4E 225 (The 23rd year after Alduin's defeat.)

Cicero was the last person Dagny expected to find hammering against the front door of her High Rock home. The man had come all the way from Skyrim.

"Do you hear that?" she hissed, seizing the arm of her husband, Endon, who was blinking groggily beside her.

Endon yawned. "Sounds like the front door…"

There was a sudden thud, followed by a series of six frantic bangs. "By the nine, who could it be? It's past midnight."

Dagny gave a heavy moan, flinging the blankets across her body in an irritated jump to her feet. Endon forced himself to blink, reluctantly peeling the blanket from his own body. Meanwhile a dresser drawer flew open as Dagny searched for a cotton shirt.

Endon got out of bed to peer out the window. It was difficult to see through the darkness, but there was indeed someone at the door. Endon could vaguely see a small cart and a black horse beside the porch. A silhouetted figure, a man by the looks of it, was pounding a fist against their wooden door.

"I can't tell who it is," he mumbled.

"Well, put some clothes on," Dagny urged. A pair of felt pants flew across the room, hitting the naked Endon square in the face. He fumbled around, sleepily trying to find the leg holes.

"I hope it isn't that guard again," Dagny slipped on a pair of house-shoes, drawing an impatient breath. "He'll find any excuse to put you out of business."

Endon fastened his pants with a string. "You really think he'd come this late?"

Dagny raised her shoulders; she didn't know who else it could be. The two of them were rather reclusive these days.

There was another impetuous knock, and something about its aggressiveness brought an air of danger.

"Better grab a blade," Endon suggested. "Just in case."

Dagny grabbed the elven dagger she kept on the bedside table and followed Endon into the front room. A muffled muttering could be heard from the other side of the door and there was something eerily familiar about the cadence in the visitor's voice. Endon cast a flame in his right hand, readying his stance, while Dagny braced herself, knuckles white around the hilt of her dagger.

"Who's there?" Endon called to the man.

A muffled voice responded, "Heh, Cicero, Fool of Hearts, at your service!"

Dagny went white. Cicero... Cicero? Had she misheard? By the door, Endon struggled to remember where he had heard that name; it sounded familiar. "What's your business here?" he asked.

"Cicero does apologize for the late intrusion. Is there by chance a woman named Dagny here?"

Dagny took a bold step forward, and Endon shot her a confused look.

"Do you know him?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"A family friend," Dagny explained.

Endon had vaguely recalled Dagny mentioning a family-friend named Cicero. Was this the same one who occasionally signed his name at the bottom of the letters from Dagny's mother?

"Open the door," Dagny urged.

Endon nodded at his wife and cautiously unlocked the door.

When Dagny saw the man waiting on the other side, she furrowed her brow in confusion. Endon blinked, probably doubting his own senses, because standing at the door was the strangest looking man he'd ever seen—an elderly jester, all turned out in fading red motley and a worn fool's cap. He peered anxiously into the house.

"Do you know the time?" Endon gave an uneasy laugh, attempting a joke to ease the discomfort.

Dagny, however, did not so much as giggle. She was very conscious of her blade, keeping it firm at her side. For Cicero to come here at this late hour—he was either having a hysterical episode (thus the blade, in case the situation became unsafe), or something incredibly serious had happened.

"Cicero?"

It was evident that they knew each other, for the jester let out a shriek of delight, pushing his way past Endon, who stumbled backward a bit bewildered.

"Ooh! Dagny! Cicero is delighted to see you again! Delighted to see you have not been harmed!" he squealed.

Endon scratched his head in bewilderment. This bizarre looking man was a family friend? Why would he expect Dagny to be harmed? He had a million questions, but he held himself back when his wife began to speak as she moved hurriedly to greet their guest.

"By the nine, what are you doing here?" Dagny asked.

"Oh, Dagny! It's terrible. Terrible!" he shuddered, waving a wild arm, eyes darting frantically around the room.

"I'll get straight to the point," he said, visibly panicked. "Your mother! Oh, you're poor, precious mother. She is missing!" He jumped forward and grabbed her shoulders, obliging her to listen, "I- I can't find her anywhere. Cicero has searched, and searched, but she is simply… gone!"

His grip on her shoulder was a bit too tight, and Dagny winced, calling out, "Ow!"

But Cicero did not release his grip, he stared at her with frenzied eyes. "I fear for the safety of the Listener's children!"

Endon (who understandably had no reason to trust this panicky stranger) was immediately alarmed at the aggressive way he seized his wife.

He leapt forward and pulled the strange man backwards. "Get off her. You may not mean it, but you're hurting her!"

Cicero submitted to Endon's wrench, he gave a meek smile, bowing his head apologetically.

"Oh! My apologies," Cicero begged. "There's no need to worry. Cicero does not intend to cause harm! Not at all," he continued his diatribe, but kept a respectful distance.

"Your mother has disappeared," he explained, a gloved hand pressed against his forehead. "Thoughtless, stupid Cicero has failed in his responsibilities as Keeper! Protect the Listener? No, I've lost the Listener! Now her precious children may be in harm's way. Dagny, Cicero is overjoyed to find you home safe, but you can't stay here! Whoever is responsible for Hypatia's disappearance may come for you next!"

Suddenly, a million thoughts rushed through Dagny's mind, and she stood dumbfounded before her mother's old friend. Cicero always spoke with a certain hysteria, but it had been a while since Dagny had dealt with his frantic way of communicating. It brought a familiar exasperation to the forefront of her mind.

How could her mother be missing? Dagny should have been skeptical because Cicero had a flair for the dramatic. Yet, the anguish in his face told her to take his words seriously.

"Are you certain she's missing?" Dagny asked. "When did you last see her?"

"It's been eight days!" he blubbered. "Your poor mother has been missing for eight days- perhaps even longer. The Listener knows Cicero will visit on the 1st of every month, but when Cicero arrived, she was not there. She left nothing, not even a note for poor Cicero. Oh, Dagny, what a fool Cicero has been. Something awful has happened! Something horrible! Oh, I've failed! Cicero has failed in his promise to protect her!"

He let a horrid sigh fill the room, clutching his own heart guiltily.

"What about the others?" Dagny asked. "Tor? Alissei? Have you heard from them?"

These were Dagny's two other siblings. As Cicero said, if Hypatia was missing, it could potentially mean the entire family was in danger.

"It has been a few months since we've had word from Tor. Alissei still refuses to speak with us…" he gave an anxious gasp, biting his lip to stifle the noise. "Dagny, I don't want to imagine the worst, but poor Cicero, though foolish, is not known for undervaluing the dangers."

Dagny closed her eyes, thinking on the last time she saw her mother. It had been nearly six months ago during the Harvest's End Festival. Hypatia had strangely opted to remain sober, and she had seemed relatively upbeat during the week's festivities. Dagny remembered it being an odd change from her usual somber demeanor. It had been the first time they saw each other in five years.

Since then, what had her mother gotten herself tangled up in?

She squeezed her lids tighter. This had to be a dream. Surely any minute her eyes would open. and she would wake snug beneath blankets—no jester, no mother, nothing but the obnoxious snores of Endon beside her.

She lifted an eyelid; an anxious Cicero was gawking, open mouthed and crazy-eyed, in front of her.

"HELLOOOO?!" Cicero yelled, arms flying in a frenzied sort of twitch. "Did you not hear me? Don't you care at all?"

Dagny stepped back defensively. It was unlikely that Cicero would hit her, but Dagny had witnessed him handle her mother roughly. When these "incidents" (as her mother had called them) occurred, it was usually at times like this: when Cicero was fretting with agitation. For this reason, she kept a hand near the hilt of her sheathed dagger.

Likewise, Endon watched Cicero with a concerned frown, personally unaware of his violent tendencies, but nevertheless suspicious of the brash way he raved on.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the elderly jester sighed. "Cicero is anxious. Please, tell me your mother has stopped by? That she's perhaps…. here now?"

He bit his lip, eyes darting desperately around the room. Cicero must have thought it an elaborate prank. Was Hypatia hiding behind a bench, holding her breath, and stifling a laugh?

"No, she's not here," Dagny said, and gestured into the silent, empty home. Nothing moved. No matter how Cicero willed it, Hypatia did not materialize.

"If you don't mind, let's move to the kitchen," Dagny offered. "I want you to explain everything from the beginning. Are you hungry?"

Cicero gave a sigh, grabbing his stomach. "Cicero supposes he is a bit peckish."

Dagny stepped aside, pointing toward an archway that led to the kitchen, and Cicero dragged himself through her living room, looking like a kicked puppy. "Oh, your mother, your mother, your poor mother…. I pray she's okay," he mumbled as he trudged along.

Endon waited until Cicero was out of earshot (but visible through the arch) and quickly pulled his wife aside.

"Who is this man?" he asked rubbing his forehead. "I'm certain you've never mentioned anyone quite like… that. Is he always this frazzled?"

Dagny cast a nervous glance at the elderly Cicero. "Oh, gods. He was my mother's friend for a long time. Around a lot when I was a child, and he lived with us for a while. But he's… uh, a bit mad, I suppose."

"Your mother's friend…" Endon repeated. He was aware of Dagny's strained relationship with her mother, Hypatia. Endon had only ever met her once—six months ago at the Harvest's End Festival. Dagny's brother had invited the couple to celebrate the holiday at the Blue Palace in Solitude. Endon had been nervous to formally meet his wife's family, especially the legendary Dragonborn. There would also be rich politicians and nobles at this party. Endon knew some of the elite had a bad reputation for arrogance. He was nervous that they would look down on him for his non-Nordic heritage and for the fact that he was a mage, but as for Hypatia, she did not give the slightest air of superiority.

She greeted him as her own son, with a hug. Her blonde hair had been tied up in traditional Nordic braids, and she had been wearing a simple cotton dress. Nothing about her was overly highbrow. She had seemed normal and nice enough to him. Yet, from the way Dagny spoke of her childhood, it had been difficult having the Dragonborn as a mother. He knew people were deeper than what a first impression could give off. For this reason, he remained polite, but still respected and believed what his wife said about her childhood experiences.

"I don't know what Cicero's on about," Dagny said, pulling Endon from his thoughts. "He's not always in the right state of mind, so it's hard to know what to take seriously. Just be careful if you say anything to him."

"Be careful? What do you mean? Is he violent?" Endon whispered, eyeing Cicero anxiously.

"I hope not tonight. But don't make sudden movements… Ehh, slight things can set him off. He's kind of unpredictable," she muttered, her tone brought Endon no comfort. "I've seen him lose control," she said, and Endon nodded seriously, eyebrows creased.

"I'll follow your lead," he told her.

Dagny gave an apprehensive sigh and the two of them walked into the kitchen. Cicero had taken a seat at the table, wringing his gloved hands nervously. Since it was the middle of the night, the room was dark. However, a large beam of silver moonlight came in through the window, shining directly on Cicero's face.

When they were standing in the doorway, Dagny hadn't seen Cicero clearly, but now she saw that he looked… well, old. She guessed he was now mid-sixties, with watery eyes shaped by dark circles and saggy skin. His once red hair was grey and thinning. The familiar jester outfit, which used to fit well, now hung loosely from his thin arms.

It had only been five years since Dagny last saw him, but Cicero looked exhausted, as if he'd aged a decade and a half.

She took a seat beside Cicero at the table, and Endon cast a small flame between his fingers, lighting candles on the table and across the room on a short cupboard.

"What exactly happened?" Dagny asked. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"A few weeks ago, Cicero came to the Listener's manor to visit," he explained. "Oh, but she had been in that bottle! It does things to her mind! Makes her crazier than Cicero, it does!"

"Crazy? How so?" Endon unexpectedly asked from the other side of the kitchen. "Also, uh, Mr. Cicero, what flavor of tea would you like?"

Suddenly, Cicero looked up at the Redguard as if he were seeing him for the first time. The expression struck an initial chord of fear in Endon's heart, due to the warning his wife had given him. Dagny knew the chances of Cicero springing forward to attack were slim, but her anxiety knew he was as unpredictable as a storm.

The old jester merely gave a gasp, and then promptly erupted in a fit of laughter.

"Oh ho ho!" he sniggered. "Dagny, how rude of me! In my haste, I've forgotten completely about your… er?"

"Husband," Dagny said. Cicero's jaw dropped, and he slapped himself, hooting even louder than before.

"Your husband!" he gave her a sly, excited smile and cackled. "Why, Dagny, you funny woman. You've gone off and gotten hitched!"

Cicero beamed congratulations, flashing the couple a toothy smile. He couldn't keep himself from erupting in joyous laughter. Endon glanced a bit awkwardly toward his wife, chuckling nervously.

Dagny couldn't blame him for being overly excited as he was. After all, it had been five years since Dagny had seen him. A lot had happened in that amount of time, and Cicero apparently never knew she'd gotten married.

"Oh, and he's so polite! 'Mr. Cicero, what flavor of tea would you like?' How delightful you seem. Cicero adores meeting new people! Yes, certainly, we'll get along well. What is your name, Dagny's husband?"

Endon looked uncertainly from his wife to the jester and then back again to his wife. Somehow in all that hubbub, he'd forgotten his own name. Cicero leaned forward eagerly, a large and enthusiastic smile stretched across his face. Dagny gave a few perplexed blinks beside him, she still couldn't believe this was happening.

"My name's Endon," he said after what felt like too long of a pause. Cicero clapped his hands and cackled.

"Ooh! Endon! What an honor it is to meet you! Married to Dagny, hmm? Such a handsome gentleman. So personable and charming. Oh, welcome to the family, Dagny's husband, Endon!" He held back his laughter, snorting into his hand. It was as though he'd never heard anything funnier.

"Your mother would be so pleased if she knew!" he told her.

"My mother knows," Dagny said. "We married in a private ceremony last year, but Endon met Tor and Ma during the Harvest End's Festival."

"Oh," Cicero's expression turned grim. "Cicero was notinvited to the Harvest End's Festival. No, not me. Not Cicero!" he growled bitterly.

Endon was beginning to see why. He put an awkward hand on the back of his head and tried to steer the conversation back. "So, uh… what kind of tea would you like? Do you want anything to eat?"

"Oh yes, back to the more important business of food and drink," he laughed. "Cicero does hope you're brewing lavender tea, perhaps. As for food—anything will do. I am too hungry and too grateful to make any more demands."

Endon nodded. "We have some lavender in the counter." He made his way over to the cabinet and rummaged through a few jars.

"We're something of tea connoisseurs," Dagny joked awkwardly. Cicero nodded, as Endon dropped a plate of bread and cheese on the table before them.

"Hmm… Is that so?" he muttered, grabbing for the bread.

"Well, uh Endon's always been a big tea drinker… I guess I just… I don't know. I started drinking it a lot after we met..." Dagny awkwardly trailed off and Cicero nodded thoughtfully as though it was the most interesting thing he'd ever heard. Cicero always had a way of making people feel special for their ordinary interest – no matter how boring they were to talk about.

Dagny turned the conversation back to Hypatia. "Cicero, how did my mother seem the last time you saw her?"

Cicero leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands on his forehead. "Well… about that. Oh, Mother forgive me."

Dagny sensed a serious change of tone in his voice. Endon kept a wary eye on Cicero as he lit a small flame on the stove, placing down a teapot.

"Cicero is too ashamed to admit his mistakes to the Listener's own daughter."

A deadly expression appeared on her face. "By the gods, Cicero, this is no time to keep secrets! My mother is missing. Do you want our help or not?"

"Ughh!" Cicero heaved an incredible sigh, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "Oh, Dagny. Cicero is mortified by his actions. The night before your poor, sweet mother went missing, she and Cicero had a …. quarrel. That was the last night I saw her."

His whole body shuddered at the confession.

"What kind of quarrel?" asked Dagny as Endon placed a small, sweet roll in front of her. She glanced up at her husband, nodding in thanks before taking a bite.

"Was it a bad one?" Endon asked, placing a plate before Cicero as well.

In Cicero's closely guarded memory, he saw his own body soar backwards. The force of her Thu'um, had lifted him off the ground. He crashed through her greenhouse windows. In retaliation there had been a blow to Hypatia's head, a bit of blood, and a lot of shrieking.

"No," he lied, keeping the memory to himself. "Not particularly." It was nothing he should be telling the Listener's daughter. He cast his eyes down, taking a bite of the sweetroll.

Dagny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Do you think she left because of the argument?"

"We apologized afterwards…" he mumbled, swallowing his bite. "Cicero didn't think the poor Listener was still angry."

"What was she angry about?" Dagny asked.

Cicero's face cringed at the question, obviously he didn't want to say.

"It was… a matter of…" he trailed off, eyes falling to the floor. "Oh, I can't say!"

"Come on!" Dagny raised her voice. "Cicero, how can you expect me to help you if you won't give me the relevant facts? Your argument could very well be the reason why she's missing! By the gods, don't you think if-"

Before Dagny's tirade was allowed to continue, Endon placed a soft hand on her shoulder.

"Cicero," Endon said calmly. "Please just tell us. This argument is the only lead we have."

Cicero glanced around uneasily. "Your mother made me promise I wouldn't speak of it," he said. "Many, many years ago."

Dagny jerked her head back, her lips pressed flat.

"What is that supposed to mean?" her voice was dry.

Cicero grabbed uncomfortably at his hat. "The subject of this quarrel is one which Cicero has been sworn to keep to himself. It is an argument… oh, more of a discussion really…that your poor mother and I have had many times in the past," he said. "Over the course of many years."

"Why would she want to keep it a secret?" she looked at her husband curiously.

"Oh, she wanted to protect you," Cicero waved his arm. "Please. Cicero can't talk about it!" he looked uncomfortable enough to burst.

Dagny's heart raced. What in Oblivion was Cicero on about? She glanced at her husband. He didn't look any less confused than she felt. The water was beginning to steam now. Endon gathered the lavender herbs into a small pouch, tossing it gently into the heated water.

"Was it about your relationship?" Dagny asked. Cicero shook his head. "Was it something about us kids?"

"No," Cicero said.

"About Dragonborn business?"

"No," Cicero groaned.

"Could it have been about the manor?" she wondered aloud.

"No, no, no, and please, for the sake of your poor, sweet mother's wish, don't ask Cicero again."

His body slumped dramatically onto the table. "I can't speak of it," he begged. "And it's not for lack of wanting to. Believe me."

Dagny raised one eyebrow, glancing at Endon who merely pursed his lips, pouring from the teapot into three decorative teacups.

"Well, if you're not going to tell us, so be it," Dagny waved her hand dismissively. "But she didn't say anything about leaving?" Dagny asked him. "Are you certain you can't remember?"

"I… well," he gave a thoughtful scrunch of the face. "Ehh…. No! Not at all! I would have remembered something like that. Surely, I would have! She's just gone. With nothing, as I said, not even a note… Oh, Dagny. Something terrible has happened… I fear someone has kidnapped her off the side of the road."

Endon placed the cups of tea before both Cicero and Dagny before taking a seat with them at the table. Dagny immediately took a sip of her lavender brew.

"We need to go see Tor," Dagny suggested, and Endon nodded.

"I agree. I'll come with you," her husband said supportively.

Tor was Dagny's older brother by about five years. He currently worked under Falk Firebeard at the Blue Palace. He was close to the High Queen of Skyrim, who was an old friend of their mother's. His influence would no doubt be advantageous in their search for Hypatia.

"Cicero will accompany you as well!" he said. "How Cicero longs to see Tor again!"

"Perhaps we should visit Alissei as well," Dagny said. Alissei was her twin sister, an entire four minutes younger from the way Dagny had been told. "See if she knows anything. The least we could do is make her aware of the situation."

Cicero gave an awkward chuckle. "Perhaps Dagny will do that one alone," he said uneasily.

Dagny understood what Cicero referred to.

A few months before the Harvests End festival, Alissei had accepted a position as a professor at the College of Winterhold. This was not before she swore to never again speak with Hypatia nor Cicero. During the festival, their mother had vaguely described the situation after Dagny noted that neither Alissei nor Cicero were there. Their brother, Tor, was just as in the dark as Dagny. All he knew was that Alissei had sworn to kill Cicero if she ever saw him again.

"What exactly happened, Cicero?" Dagny asked. "At the Harvest End's festival, I felt as though my mother was ashamed to discuss it."

She took another sip of her tea and Cicero nervously scraped a hand through his greying hair, biting his lip. "It was a misunderstanding," he said. "Cicero… made a mistake, that's all." He turned away, clearly in no mood to go on.

A spark of annoyance flickered in Dagny's eyes. "Why does nobody in this family give a direct answer?" she accused.

"Oh, Dagny, there's no need to dig that nonsense up tonight," Cicero begged. "No, no, no, no. Please, no! Cicero hasn't come to lecture the Listener's daughter on long dead family drivel, however unresolved it may be. No. Poor Cicero has come to beg help of Dagny, to ensure her safety, and to accompany her to Solitude to see Tor."

Dagny sighed, agreeing for the sake of it. Perhaps if she and Endon did visit her sister in Winterhold, Dagny would ask Alissei herself.

"Okay," she began. "Solitude is a little less than a few days journey from here." she stood from the table. "We are going to need a lot of blankets. If I know anything about Skyrim, it gets colder every damn year," she shuddered.

Dagny never imagined that she'd be heading to that snowy hellscape under such anxious circumstances. Her mother was tangled up in Talos knew what, and now Dagny had a broken-hearted jester at her dining table, intent on burning down Nirn to find her.

Of course, Dagny desired to know her mother was safe, but she had many complicated feelings toward that woman. The Harvest End's festival was the first time they'd met in person in five years. Though, Hypatia occasionally sent letters.

And when it came to Cicero, Dagny indeed felt a bit indebted to him. Although, he had undoubtedly always been annoying, loud, and offensive—she truthfully held no resentment toward him. In fact, it was really on account of Cicero that her childhood had been at all bearable. Her mother was a livelier person when he came to visit.

Her change in personality was like night and day. When Cicero was gone, she had been depressed, sleepy, and reclusive. When Cicero came to visit, she was energetic, loving, and involved in the children's day. These changes were confusing for a child, to say the least.

Dagny recalled being spooked awake many nights as a kid, dreaming childish nightmares of ghosts and monsters. It had never been her mother that comforted her—no, Hypatia had had been so drunk, all she could muster was a drowsy mumble before her head slumped back down on to the pillow, drooling.

It had been Cicero who consoled her with stuffed animals and comforting words. Cicero who played games with her and stayed awake by her bedside, clutching his knife to protect her from imaginary 'monsters'. Dagny would never forget that. In a strange way, she was thankful for him. Perhaps he was the closest thing to a father she had known.

She sighed, forcing her thoughts down. It was painful to think of the past. Sometimes she found it unbearable.

"Listen," she began slowly. "It's very late. We can't stay up all night talking.

"There's an inn just up the road," Cicero said. "I will stay there this evening."

Maybe Dagny should have felt a bit guilty for not inviting Cicero to stay the night in her home. However, the truth was that she simply did not trust him. She had seen more than her fair share of his "episodes" to know he just wasn't mentally stable. He might have one triggering thought, or a violent auditory hallucination, and it would send him over the edge. She wasn't sure how they would get through this trip to Solitude.

"Cicero, that's probably for the best. We will discuss it more tomorrow morning. If we're going to make this trip, we should be on the road early."

He smiled. "Oh, how I agree!" he said, scarfing down the remainder of his food and rising from the chair. Dagny rose from her seat as well and walked with the jester to the front door.

Cicero let himself out and pointed toward a cart parked in front of the house. An odd, dark horse was pulling the load. It seemed rather blacker than the shadows surrounding it. Dagny instantly recognized her as Hypatia's favorite horse—Shadowmere.

"My things are all here… I didn't bring much, because I hoped it would be a rather short trip if the Listener were here with you."

"I'm sorry she wasn't," said Dagny. They stood together in the summer air for what felt like longer than necessary.

"… Dagny," Cicero began. "I know you expected peace after leaving Skyrim… You've got a husband now, and perhaps even kids?" he asked looking hopeful.

"No, no kids," she laughed. Cicero shrugged and gave her a soft smile.

"Probably for the best, I'm sure the Listener thinks she's too young to be a grandmother!" he snorted at his own joke. "Either way. Cicero understands he's being a bit….uh, presumptuous when he asks you to leave and help him."

"I'm not leaving because you're asking me for help," Dagny said. "I'm the Dragonborn's daughter. This search is my responsibility."

Dagny looked away, staring down the road toward the distant glow of the village. "I just worry Tor will know nothing more than we do. If that happens, what is your plan?"

"To find her." He looked so serious, as though he believed this search would be that simple. It was a bit annoying. Too dramatic for Dagny, but Cicero was always one for pointless flair.

Perhaps this his way of saying he was relentless and bound to find her. Dagny suppressed a desire to roll her eyes. In her own opinion, Hypatia had done little to deserve a man as loyal as this jester was.

"Perhaps Tor will have an idea of how to begin our search," she said, and Cicero nodded in agreement.

"This fool certainly hopes!" he sighed. "Oh, Dagny. Can you believe it's been five years since we have all been together? You've grown so much in such a short amount of time. Cicero is just…." he struggled to find the words. "… proud of the Listener's daughter. I'm sure your mother would be proud too."

Dagny wondered if her mother's pride mattered to her or not. Nevertheless, the jester continued, "Soon, Hypatia and I will be together again, and she will be overjoyed to know you're doing so well. Once we find her, she'll be glad to see you. I'm certainly glad to have seen you," he said.

"I'm glad, too," she said, though she wasn't sure if it was the truth.

"And to have met your husband!" Cicero called out behind her, and Dagny turned to see Endon waiting a few feet away in the doorway, grinning a bit sheepishly.

"Well, Cicero supposes there's nothing to do now but return in the morning after a good night's rest," he said, eyes darting anxiously. "I admit, I feel… somewhat desperate. I'm sorry for disturbing you so late, but surely you understand it's a matter of urgency. And now, poor Cicero is rambling, which he has a bad tendency to do when he gets anxious and needs to fill the silence. Stupid, stupid, Cicero, collect yourself!"

Dagny nodded, and took a step back, but without warning Cicero pulled her into a rather awkward embrace. It was a fatherly sort of hug, full of genuine affection, but somehow, standing there, Dagny felt rather… sad.

He pulled away and looked directly at her. It was like he wanted to memorize her face; in case they went another five years without seeing each other. "Oh, what a joy it was to see you again! But now I'm afraid I must go," He heaved himself onto the back of the carriage saying, "Cicero will return tomorrow! Don't worry!"

The horse pulled away and Cicero gave a huge, exaggerated wave as he turned toward the road.