"I've documented four out of six of them as reacting typically, but the last two sprouted nearly twice as quickly!"
"It could be a fluke. We controlled the environment as much as we could, but even still, the variables in the seeds themselves…"
"But it's something, at least. Who knows? We may have a new fertilizer on our hands."
"I hope you don't mean that literally!"
Quiet titters danced between Eilonwy and I in the Mages Guild library, the two of us sectioned off at a table comparing notes. The day had gone too quickly between running shop and finishing off what I needed to put my plan into action, and now already it was late afternoon, glowing in early summer's warmth.
Tomorrow night.
For now, it was just nice to spend time with a colleague. Eilonwy was sweet, and the only thing that trumped her love of alchemy was that of Orintur. Our talk was idle, our studies personal rather than for the guild, but it felt good to share and learn another's findings, anyway. Like the old days.
Of course, it couldn't last.
"Dust." I glanced up. Astarill, looking faintly annoyed and still bearing his satchel – he must have just come in. "There was someone waiting outside for you."
"I – oh." A surge of annoyance, tainted sickly with worry. Lucien, Antoinetta? Shit. I began to gather up my books, trying to give Eilonwy a smile I didn't feel. "I'm sorry, I'd better go. It was nice seeing you."
"You as well, of course." Her smile was brief, too – I caught her making eye contact with Astarill, who stared flatly back until she turned away, face red. I sidled up, slowing at the door where he stood, voice lowered.
"How did it go? With the antivenin?"
There was a half-moment of expression, satisfaction there and gone. "Effectively."
"Glad to hear it." I grinned, sliding past him with books bundled to my chest. "If you ever need any more, well – just bring me another present like that, and it'll be my pleasure."
A nod and he was gone, finding a secluded spot for his own studies and leaving me with my thoughts again. It couldn't be Vicente, not this early. But one of the others, or even one of the smugglers…
I wasn't sure who I dreaded more.
But it was neither who greeted me at the door. I blinked, needing a moment to bring a name to the face.
"… Mister Othran?" Aldos. The Dunmer who had been with me in jail, the drunk who lost his wife and now wandered town homeless. His face didn't speak of his circumstances, not in the least – he grinned ear to ear, swaying in place as I stepped outside. "Can I help you?"
"Not me. I was sent, t'tell you." Was he drunk again? There was a definite slur to his words, his smile dazed, but – no. His movements, his hands were jerky, laughter a creeping tremble. "You gotta meet someone, big Orc n'wah, down t'wards th'chapel garden. Garden, guard-iiiiing, guards, damn the guards, pasty-faced – "
Shit. Shit. I took him by the arm and steered him around the building, into the shadowed alley and towards the backyard behind it. He didn't argue, content to chuckle and curse to himself, bloodshot gaze lingering on the birds above.
"Aldos…"
"Mn?" He didn't fight or even flinch as I reached for his face. Yes – cheeks flushed, his pupils enormous and that sickly sweet smell on his breath…
Those goddamn, poison-peddling – "Who gave you skooma? Why?"
"Can't tell you that." He chuckled, giving a little twitch as I let go of his chin. "Just, just a little. Fer running an errand, is all. I can be useful, y'see? I can. I need it. They won't let me in the taverns no more, they know I got no coin."
I grit my teeth, holding back curses of my own. The Orum gang knew that, too. Knew he was desperate, vulnerable. Knew someone to run messages, hide contraband, cause distractions and take a fall would be well worth a sip or two of their profits in the long run.
"Mister Othran – please, we need to get your system cleaned out. Will you come back to my shop with me?"
"Cleaned…?" A slow blink, then several rapid. His head jerked up, face misted with a sheen of sweat. "No. No, no – Imma come down hard 'nuff, as is. Don't need it faster."
"Mister Othran – "
"Please." I jerked back as he moved to clutch at me, then stared at his hands, slow and surely numb. They fell limp by his sides as he stared up, face twisted. "I need this."
"Aldos…"
"It's th'only way I can see 'er. My wife. Not even th'ale did that. It'll save me. You don't," I flinched again at his jerk towards me. His voice grew hoarse, low. "You don't understand, no one does."
"I can try. If we get you cleaned up, we can talk, and I can try."
A haggard laugh as he stared again up at the sky. "Y'sound like the chapel healer. She can't help me, either. I know, I know, I know sh'wants to but none of 'em, they can't understand, they look and see what I used t'be. What I should be. They pity me."
I had no words for that, no denial I could offer. A shuddering breath and he continued, hands trembling as he gestured.
"I can't – I can't – I can't pretend anymore, you see? I can't go back t'the mill and pretend I'm the man I was. I can't pretend it doesn't hurt. I know too much. How easy it just, just is gone. I can't pretend not t'want to scream, to fuh-cking…" A choking sob, wrenching at me as he raked his fingers through his hair. "To tear off my clothes and run around like a madman, to wail for her, scream her name… Nine save me, Ureso, what would you think of me now…"
Gods. I blinked back tears, utterly at a loss. His grief ran so deep, so utterly consuming. I'd known that, yes – maman's loss ached in me. It would never not. But he had nothing, no friends or family left to care for him. Only a city that would see him as he said – as nothing but a broken down…
A tingle racing down my back, lighting up my thoughts. A broken down madman.
Those days after maman's death, broken by grief, I'd stayed at the shrine in the swamp. I screamed, I wailed, I tried to forget her and clung to her memory all at the same time. And they encouraged it, supported it. There was no judgment, no callous distaste for rejecting what I should have done, should have been.
"… Mister Othran." I reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to catch his attention. "What if – what if I told you I might know of a place, where you'd be safe to grieve? Where no one would judge you?"
A blink. He frowned, eyes taking a long moment to focus on mine. "…What? Where. What?"
I bit my lip, thinking. "… Later. We can talk about it later. But for now, we need to get you cleaned up. With the amount of abuse your liver has taken, I'm not sure you'll be able to process the skooma safely. Will you come with me? Please?"
A long moment of staring, eyes glazed. Finally, he nodded. I felt my shoulders sag as he leaned his weight on to me, groaning. "What about yer meeting?"
"He can bloody well wait." If they were going to poison people and send them my way, dammit, that took precedence. I might annoy them, but they wouldn't cut me off or punish me just yet. They needed me. And if it was that important, he surely knew where my shop was. He could harass me there.
Mercifully, there was no one waiting to greet us but Luke. Aldos didn't give him a second glance, still lost in a skooma haze, muttering endearments and apologies to his wife. No resistance as I fed him potions – foxglove nectar and ginseng to cleanse his system, ground peony and fennel seeds to strengthen it. He'd wake up miserable, his wife gone from his sight, but at least he'd be sober. At least he'd be alive.
I left him to rest, for a moment daring to think I'd gotten lucky. I'd worked in silence with Aldos until he was able to doze off, sleeping like a dead man if it weren't for the tremendous snores. A bare glimpse of hope. Maybe the smuggler had forgotten, changed his mind. Maybe…
Ah, but there was the bell at my door jingling, the scratch of Luke's claws as he stood. Of course.
I strode to the main room, not bothering to hide my annoyance as Magub sauntered towards me. "If you're going to send me a messenger, it would do not to poison him, first."
"You mouthy little – " He slowed his step only at Luke's growl beside me. A little smirk on my lips at feeling Luke's growl through my hand on his flank, at seeing the Orc's face go ashen. "If I say we meet, we meet. You understand that, girlie?"
"My name is not girlie. I'll meet, but not if you send me someone in need of immediate healing attention. He's been drinking, everyone knows that – his liver must be nearly ruined. You could have killed him."
A snort. "Think I'd weep for one less homeless drunk in town?"
"I don't care what you weep about. I had to help him, first." Luke was silent now, but kept his hackles raised. A surge of affection for him, my canine guardian. One minute begging for scraps, the next my protector. I kept a hand on him as he watched, guarded, but not about to pounce. "What was so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow night?"
"You got nightshade?"
"Plenty." I went through it quickly, with the poisons the Brotherhood demanded of me, and always tried to keep it in stock. "I thought your people would provide what I'll need."
"Keep your skirt on. We've got everything else – just a rat got in our supply, died and rotted in the sack. It's all useless now."
"Fine. I'll bring mine." I crossed my arms, small defense against a glare that turned suddenly leering. "If that's all…"
"Not quite, nah." Luke's teeth gnashed beside me as the Orc stepped closer. "What is that thing? A conjure?"
"… He protects me. From people like you."
"Better tell him to behave." A grin, making my chest go tight. "There'll be other alchemists, if we need 'em. If I go back to the gang missing an arm, they'll see yer not worth the trouble. They'll kill you, or you'll hang."
"You need me. Without the Camonna Tong – "
"Things'll be easier without 'em, true." He sauntered closer still – my back hit the wall and I willed myself to stand taller, Luke letting out a low warning. "Striking out on our own is a helluva lot more profitable."
"Then – "
"But like I said, there could be other alchemists. If we had to, we could even try 'ta bargain with the Tong for a new deal. Give 'em something to sweeten things from our end. They run more than skooma, you know." Something about his smile unnerved me, the threat behind it as his voice dropped low. "Opium, Khajiiti pelts, slaves."
"Slavery is illegal in Morrowind, now."
"Really!" His voice rose, high in feigned shock. Bastard – vile, toothy bastard, but I kept Luke back with a hand on his flank even as I wanted nothing more than to sic him. "Next you'll tell me murder's illegal, too!"
"What do you want."
"Just t'remind you to watch your manners, girlie. There's worse things that could happen to you than the gallows." Another step, another until he loomed over me again, like he had that night with a hand on the wall above me.
I wanted to tear out his throat between my teeth almost as much as Luke. But he was right. If I attacked him, they'd never let me live. "Like burning alive in my shop?"
"Worse still. Like I said, we could bargain with the Tong. They've gotten all they're gonna get out of your poisons, but that's not all you're good for, is it?" Sneering down at me now he grinned. "What was it you said you was called? A harlot?"
A flush down my back, over my cheeks, twisting and raging in my gut as my hands curled into fists. The heat only grew, prickling sting in my eyes as he snickered low.
"Don't you think you'd make for a pretty slave?"
"Get out."
"Was you what suggested a tryst - "
"Get out, you pig-headed, pathetic excuse for a mage -"
A hand closed around the neckline of my blouse, dragging me up. It all seemed to happen at once – my feet left the ground as a snarl curled his face, a button snapped and clattered to the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut on instinct, ready for a blow, then behind me came a reverberating, terrible growl.
Luke. Luke, you good, good boy.
As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Magub took the hint, depositing me on my feet as Luke approached, head low and maw quivering. He didn't attack – thank gods, he didn't attack. That would ruin everything, give them every reason to hand me to the guard, or worse. But the threat was enough. The Orc stood back, hissing.
"You'd better learn quick, girl. The doggie won't always be around to protect you."
"I'll be there tomorrow, with the nightshade." I felt it, felt the fear and anger coiling in my throat, felt the tremble in my words and hated myself for every wavering syllable. But my time would come. Dammit all, it would, and it would wipe the smile off this bastard's face, for good. "I have a patient to tend to."
A shrug of his shoulder and, at last, he left. Luke whimpered and nosed my cheek as I sank against the wall, raking my hands through my hair. My face burned hot as a brand, hotter still the tears that escaped and my loathing for them. That weakness.
A sudden thought. If maman were here – oh, if she were. If anyone had spoken to her that way, she'd have served them their own liver. I, meanwhile, could do nothing but feel small and scared.
Patience. I can be patient. One more night, and I can end this. Put them in prison, free myself and…
"First madmen, now skooma runners and drunkards. Interesting company you keep these days, pet."
"Godsdammit – " Not now, not now! When – how long had he – I pushed poor Luke back and leapt to my feet, hurriedly rubbing at my face. "Knocking, Lucien. I beg you to try it."
"Your door was unlocked, I presume from your guests." Dammit, dammit, dammit. I took a deep breath, wiped my cheeks to try and hide the evidence of tears as best I could. Breathe, don't let him see. I turned as smoothly as I could manage when he approached.
"It's – it's late. That was my last customer for the night, and I've got a patient I need to look after…"
"Please, have a modicum of respect for my intelligence." I tried not to wince at his hiss, the line of contempt beside his curled lip. "You're an alchemist, he's a skooma peddler. What happened?"
"It's – I'm handling it. They're an annoyance, nothing more, and I'm handling it."
Silence. I thought him mulling over his words, jaw shifting, but his eyes weren't on mine, drifting instead to the neckline of my blouse. The fire in them wasn't for me.
What – oh. Instinctively I raised my hand to the tear, where the button had popped away. "… It's not – it wasn't like that."
His gaze flickered up, steely.
"It wasn't, I promise. I'm – I'm fine, Lucien. I am."
"Look at me."
I obeyed. He stepped closer, taking my chin in hand, searching my gaze for a long, naked moment. There was no use hiding it, not from him, not from the eyes the Night Mother blessed.
A twitch of a mirthless smirk. "And here I thought you didn't have that sort of bloodlust in you."
Was that what he saw? It made sense – the disgust and hatred were fresh, my heart still fluttering. I did want to hurt that bastard, more than I could put into words. But…
"… There's a difference between what I desire and what I do." Luke nosed my hand and I relented, stroking down his head to find that favourite spot behind his ear. "I'm fine, Lucien. Luke scared him off, he practically pissed himself." I managed a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. "He wouldn't let anything happen to me."
"Mm." He extended his hand, letting Luke snuffle his fingertips before reaching to scratch his brow as he stepped forward into his palm. "What, precisely, did he want?"
"For me to work for him, the gang he's in." It wasn't a lie, exactly, just not the entire truth. "I won't, of course."
"Is this the first time he's approached you?"
Shit. I clenched my teeth, tried to dredge up moisture to speak, but my mouth had gone dry. There was no dodging around this question, no half-truth I could give.
The pause told him enough. A rumble of irritation and he pinched his forehead, teeth bared as he enunciated again. "What happened?"
Gods-dammit all. Once, just once, couldn't I be allowed to fix something myself, my way? Couldn't I be independent, free? "… I don't want any more blood on my hands, Lucien. On my conscience."
I saw his brow raise out of the corner of my eye and continued, trying to strengthen my words, my resolve. "… They approached me a week or so ago. About – about Voranil. They don't know who I work for," I added quickly, wary of how his gaze sharpened. "They think the Camonna Tong that provides their skooma blackmailed me to do it. I've been – feeding into that. Letting them think I'm willing to betray the Tong and help them."
A long moment of silence, face flat. "And you didn't approach us for help, because of your…" His lips curled, a flicker of contempt. "Conscience."
"Yes, Lucien, my conscience." My patience snapped and so did I, hurt and frustration roiling. "Most people have one, believe it or not."
"You'd be surprised, pet. We would be out of business if that were so." I thought he would be angrier, but no. His smile remained, not unamused, but hard. "You thought I would leap to murder."
"Of course." I blinked. "… You wouldn't?"
"Murder is my business and my art, not something to be applied so – indiscriminately. To slaughter an entire well-known group within the bounds of our own city, without the sanction of the Night Mother, would invite disaster. Even the Count couldn't cover that up."
My mouth went dry again, lips parted as I searched for words. His voice became finer, thinner like the edge of a blade meant to cut precisely. "You would know that, if you had come to us."
The anger I felt was swallowed up by the guilt, a mouse in the jaws of a snake. I looked away again, choking down the lump in my throat. "… I – I just wanted to handle this myself. I know I'm beholden, I know my life belongs to the Brotherhood. You said it yourself. You're my warden. I'll serve, but I want to do things my way when I can."
"So you assume your desires and mine are mutually exclusive?"
I had no answer for that. The silence between us grew thick until he moved to sit at the table, an arm draped over the back of the chair as he regarded me, scratching Luke's head.
"What was your plan?"
I told him. The lies, the fire I envisioned, the inevitable consequences. I left out only where I'd gotten the material for the candle – I couldn't possibly explain that the Madgod himself once sat in the very chair he did now.
A slow nod. "Clever. It could work."
"Exactly. So let me go through with it." I closed my hand over my chest, breathless. "Let me deal with it my way."
"So selfish." I stiffened at that, indignant, but he was smiling. Teasing as he stood, a half-smile there before it slipped away and his gaze hardened. "You told Antoinetta three days."
"She told you?"
"She told Vicente, who informed me." I bit my tongue, steam hissing out my ears. She promised me she wouldn't tell –
…Ocheeva. She promised she wouldn't tell the Speaker. She said nothing about Vicente, or even Lucien. That gods-damned clever, word-twisting little…
"Out of worry, Dust, worry that you saddled her with." The annoyance that sapped from me with every syllable crept into his own words, a hiss. "In your attempts to be 'uninvolved.'"
A war of emotions clashed in my head. Anger and frustration, guilt, foolishness enough to make me turn red and avoid his gaze. "… I never meant to cause her trouble. Just the opposite."
The only sound was Luke's little whimpers, rubbing up against Lucien's hand again until he indulged. That, and the heavy snores above. I was deaf to both, hugging myself hard, fighting to even understand how I should feel. I was only trying to do what I thought was right, what made sense to me, dammit. This had, all of it had been so right until…"
"Do as you've planned." I glanced up as he crisply spoke. "I will be in the city a few more days. Telaendril will watch, discreetly, and assure nothing interferes. And that," a whip-like crack to his voice as I moved to protest, a flash in his eyes, "Is non-negotiable."
I made a face. "… She can be the one to report the fire to the guards, then. They know her face around town." Only then did I let myself grumble. "As though she wouldn't be watching me, regardless."
A twitch of a smile, making me uneasy. He was annoyed, but there was something else there, too. Something I'd glimpsed on the hill that night, while healing his wounds, when I leapt into his arms in Oblivion.
I didn't dare name it. Not now.
"Antoinetta takes care of that well enough." The moonlight crept in now, silhouetting his features as his gaze drifted in thought. "… Speaker Ocheeva told me how you – addressed her, what you said."
I'd almost forgotten about that. I shrugged, feigning indifference. "It's the truth."
"Did it not occur to you that we should care for you, in turn?"
My head snapped up. No words, not yet – an open-mouthed stare as he watched, expectant. A thought came, but I couldn't bring it to pass, couldn't wrench it up through my heart and past my lips.
Don't do this to me.
Don't make me love you when I need so badly to leave you.
"Is that such a shock?"
I shook my head, swallowed hard and blinked away tears to bring myself back to the moment. No subtlety to my change of subject, how I darted my gaze away. "… How are your burns healing?"
That smile, that gods-damned smile making everything else melt away. "Better. Vicente nags me in your absence, that I rest often like the old man you fear I am."
"You are an old man." The tease left me before I could stop it, a breathy laugh. I knew it was stupid, I knew I'd regret it, but I couldn't stop myself reaching for his cheek as he smirked. "Comparably, at least."
"And what does that make you, pet?"
"A graverobber." I lifted my fingers to the hint of silver at his temples, disappearing into black. "I like the grey. It suits you."
"Pray I should say the same to you, someday."
I laughed through the resurgence of tears, let my brow fall to his shoulder even as inside, I ached. Would we ever reach that day? Could we? I needed him, I needed to be free of him, I needed…
A tingling down my back as his fingers grazed my cheek, my gaze flitting back to his. A shuddering sigh. I needed this, his hand capturing my jaw, his lips crushing mine, the brief parting of shared breath and…
"Ureso!"
Shit. I broke the kiss, reality crashing back through the haze at Aldos' anguished cry. "My – my patient. I should…"
"The drunk?"
I pursed my lips, still tingling from the kiss. "… He's not just a drunk, Lucien. He lost his wife, his home. He's a good man, and he's hurting. I can heal him, cleanse his system."
"And then what?"
"I…" My earlier thought, that faint hope for his future. "… I might know others who can help him. Give him a home again…"
"Your 'friends' in the woods?"
I froze, feeling my eyes widen. He knew? As quickly as it had come, the affection washed away in a tide of resentment. Of course he did. Whether through Telaendril, through calculation or even from the desires behind my own eyes, of course he knew. I turned away. "… They helped me, when I was grieving. When I was…" Broken, anguished, mad. They continued to help as I stumbled, trying to find my way.
"He has had months to grieve. If you give him a place where he can indulge it without judgment, why should he ever stop?" Already, the warmth was evaporating. Lucien stepped back, his absence remarkably cold around me, enough to make me shiver. The heat entered his words instead, flaring with annoyance. "Why should you care for a pathetic beggar or the lives of skooma peddlers who would use you?"
The implied question never came. Why them, over us? Over me?
"Ureso, my love, please…"
"Because this is what I am, Lucien." I wiped away tears that threatened, taking a step back to steady myself. "A healer, an alchemist. I, I make poisons, I help who I can." How could I explain it? "I do what I do for the Family because I have no choice, but I care for you, for Antoinetta, for all of you as myself. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I'm doing the same for Aldos, because…"
Because alchemy coaxes the impossible. It makes two opposites find their common ground and join in a whole.
What are you trying to make?
Myself. Trying to make these opposites – this love for a man who destroyed, this need to heal and create – exist in the very same skin.
I swallowed tight, my words torn and hoarse like there'd been a mouthful of glass going down. "This is what I am, Lucien. Take me, or leave me."
I wished I could read him, as he so easily could me. His eyes were lidded, expression blank. The silence yawned on, too long and not long enough.
"Telaendril will wait outside the warehouses and report the fire when it begins." Cool and soft he stepped away, glancing up at another hiccupping sob. "I'll find you tomorrow. Tend to your patient."
And he left, as silently as he came.
I went upstairs, shoving every tumultuous emotion that threatened to break my calm deep inside, cavernously deep. Poor Aldos – tossing and turning, half-awake as he groped and wailed for a woman whom he could never see again. A sleeping draught and another session of healing, coaxing toxins out, let him sleep deep again.
Why should he ever stop?
Why should you care…
Why…
It was too much, all too much for one night. I watched Aldos until I was certain he wouldn't wake, breaths calm and even, until my own followed in sleep.
