I thought back to when I had met the seemingly crazed man. He looked small and vulnerable. He looked how I felt right now. Without my horse and without my bulky steel armor and sword, the three-foot difference seemed like only three-inches. All it took was a hard peck to completely freeze me.
"By Sithis, this ends now! Back away, fool! Whatever you've been planning is over!" I pulled myself away from Cicero and looked towards Astrid. "Are you alright? I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where's the accomplice? Reveal yourself, traitor!" She spoke loudly to the room.
"I spoke only to the Night Mother! I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn't speak to me! Oh, no. She spoke only to her! To the Listener!" The fool danced in happy little circles. He leaned in to peck the Night Mother on her rotting cheek. She seemed to smile, although her lips remained cracked and flakey.
"What? The Listener? What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?"
"It's true, it's true! The Night Mother has spoken! The silence has been broken! The Listener has been chosen!"
Astrid shook her head and turned to me, seeking a more comprehensible explanation. "When I heard Cicero screaming, I knew you'd been discovered. I feared the worst. Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Was I fine?
"Then what in Sithis' name is going on? Cicero said he spoke to the Night Mother, but she spoke to you? Is this just more of the fool's rambling?"
"It's true. The Night Mother spoke to me. She said I was 'the one'."
"What? So, Cicero wasn't talking to anyone else. Just... the Night Mother's body? And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, will only speak to the person chosen as Listener... just spoke. Right now, to you?" I nodded, unable to believe the entire situation myself. Why didn't the Night Mother speak to Cicero? Or more importantly, why did she speak to me?
"By Sithis. And... what did she say?" I proceeded to tell her about Amaund Motierre and Volunruud.
"Hmm? Listen, I don't know what's going on here," Astrid spoke sternly, "but you take your orders from me. Are we clear on that? The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this Family. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed. I... I need time to think about all this. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss the matter further."
After Astrid left, I turned to Cicero, who was happily humming to himself while hugging the Night Mother's coffin. I didn't want to disturb him, so I quietly slipped out. All my prior energy was gone, and I was almost positive that I was asleep before my head had even hit my pillow.
...
"We need to talk." My head shot up and slammed into someone's leather chest. Astrid's leather chest.
"Of course, Astrid," I said sarcastically. Would I ever get a full night's sleep again? "What it is."
"Look. Something is happening here. I'm not entirely sure what that something is, but... well, we need to find out. If the Night Mother really did give you an order to talk to a contact, we'd be mad to ignore it. And I think we both agree, Cicero's brought quite enough madness to this Sanctuary. So, go. Go to Volunruud. It's a crypt, pretty far to the northeast. Talk to this Amaund Motierre. And let's see where all this leads, hmm?"
I forced myself out of bed, my limbs felt better than yesterday, which was good. Since joining the Brotherhood, I'd been sore more times than not. But it was well worth it. I could see that using those daggers had brought out the muscles in my forearms. Sneaking so often brought out those in my calves and thighs. I was happy with the way I looked in the mirror, armor on or off.
Cicero stopped me on my way out, eyes lighting the entire crypt. I couldn't make eye contact with him. I just felt too surreal.
"Where is the Listener going? Do you need anything? Food? Water? The souls of the undead? Where is the Listener going?" Since the whole ordeal, he didn't seem at all inquisitive as to why I was in the Night Mother's coffin in the first place. For that I was grateful. I didn't feel much like telling him the truth. That I was spying on him to stay in Astrid's good graces.
"I'm going out to do a contract. I'll be back later." I tried to get past him, but he blocked my path yet again.
"A contract! A contract indeed! A contract for the Night Mother, might Cicero inquire?"
"Yes, a contract for the Night Mother, now Cicero, if you'd please move, I have to-"
"Can Cicero come? Please, please, please, Listener?" He looked down at me through golden brown eyes, the way in which a puppy might. Sighing, I forced myself to make eye contact. I had no idea what I was getting myself into and I might have needed the extra set of daggers.
"Fine." Cicero let out a victorious laugh and hoisted me up on his shoulders. I chuckled despite myself.
...
Cicero turned out to be very useful. He killed every wolf, troll, and bear before I'd even see them, even the ones minding their own business. The only close call was a pack of dark elf mages camping outside of Vulunruud's entrance. I sat back and waited for Cicero to turn them all to cadavers, which is why I just barely jumped out of the way of as an icy spear came hurdling towards my head. I looked to Cicero who was tiddling his fingers along the hilt of his daggers and kneading worriedly at his bottom lip. I took charge for the first time this trip and drove my dagger into the stomach of the nearest elf and twisted so that I could use the corpse and a human shield.
"Cicero, do something!" I screamed to him. One of the elves had torn away my cover and was starting to conjure a new spell.
"Cicero cannot!" He shouted back. An elf ran toward him, his daggers crusted over with old blood. Cicero quickly side stepped the man and twisted his arm behind his back. With a deadly snap the bandit fell to the ground. He wasn't dead, but he wasn't able to get up either.
"What do you mean you can't?!" I rolled behind the spell caster and shoved my dagger into his lower spine. Blood splayed across my cheeks as he crumpled to the ground.
"Cicero cannot kill people. Not as Keeper!" I turned to stick my other dagger into the incapacitated elf's chest. He died with a shriek. I tore a bit of the man's tunic and used it to wipe my face.
"Hair as black as Void, eyes as blue as Sovngarde, skin as white as dawn, and blood as deep as dusk. Could our Mother have chosen a more fascinating Listener? And you being the one they call Innocence, I would oblige to say no," Cicero smiled at me.
"Being a keeper, how does it keep you from killing people?" Cicero sighed and smiled.
"Cicero used to kill well and often. It was a passion, one almost as strong as the Night Mother. When the Cyrodiil sanctuary was infiltrated by the Vigilants of Stendarr, I tried to help my family fight, but failed. I was the only one that survived. With the previous Keeper dead, I was forced to put down my daggers and carry the burden," he quickly corrected himself. "Not that Cicero minds of course!" He loves our mother with his entire self." He sighed. "After twenty years of fruitless attempts to rebuild my home, I fled. I feared that they would come to finish what they started and destroy the Night Mother. Without her there is no justice to death. I took the Night Mother and I brought her here to Skyrim." Cicero and I were sitting in the grass outside the crypt now, neither of us were ready to continue on just yet. He twirled a lock of my hair though his fingers absentmindedly.
"Why though? Why can't keepers take jobs? And why did you have the Aretino contract if you couldn't complete it?"
"As Keeper my feet shall walk for our Mother, my hands will do for our Mother, and my head will think for our Mother," he recited melancholically. "That's the vow you take when you become Keeper. There's more but it's long and unimportant. In a nutshell, my feet, hands, and head are only good for serving the Night Mother. I would be lying, however, if I said that I didn't occasionally imagine that the formaldehyde on my hands is the blood of a successful kill." He smiled nostalgically. "As for the contract, when Astrid heard of my coming to Skyrim, she sent a contract my way to get me started. She had no idea that Keepers were not killers," his face scrunched, clearly displeased, then softened. "But Cicero gets to serve his lovely Listener, so that is a plus." He tucked the lock of hair he was playing with behind my ear and caressed the back of my neck lovingly. For a jester, his movements were so gentle experienced. I could only imagine the things these hands have been through.
"What exactly does a Listener do?" I finally asked. The question had been burning in my brain since that night in the coffin.
"Oh!" He looked quite happy with this change of topic. "The Listener, well, listens. The Night Mother speaks to you. Guides you on your path. But when the Night Mother speaks, the listener must obey. You must! For her word is the will of Sithis. And Sithis is the Dark Brotherhood incarnate."
"Will the Night Mother speak to me again?" Cicero stared at me for a moment before bursting into hysterics.
"Oh, Listener. You do tell good jokes. Oh ho... Wait, the Listener is serious? Oh, well of course the Night Mother will speak to you again! She might speak now, or later, or... I don't know, but she still will. The Night Mother is part of you now. You get to hear voices inside your head!" He sighed. "The rest of us should be so lucky..."
"Cicero?" I asked, placing my hand atop his. "Did you want to be the Listener?"
"Oh... well," he shifted uncomfortably, "Yes, I did. I did indeed. I tried to listen. Tried so very hard. But the Night Mother has never spoken to poor Cicero. The silence became almost," he shook his head, "maddening... But that was then, and this is now! You're the Listener, and the Night Mother wouldn't choose just any old Listener." He stood up and helped me to my feet. "Well," he said, "Is Innocence ready to start destroying the name of the Dragonborn's Apprentice?"