Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed or messaged me! I wasn't really expecting anyone to still be interested, it's been so long since Blood and Trust. Also, up until today I hadn't realized that I have to insert the horizontal line breaks myself after uploading. Sorry for any confusion, I'll be going back to fix previous chapters.
Blood and Choice
Chapter 6
"You couldn't choose a less... sinister... location for this meeting, my lady?" Crassius Curio complained. Irarak eyed the Hlaalu; somehow, the councillor had managed to sound both deferential and annoyed.
At Irarak's side, Volrina Quarra simply smiled. "Where would you prefer to meet, Councillor? In a sunlit park, in full view of everyone?"
Curio, wisely, did not answer. He and his companion, the councillor Bero, glanced around at the interior of the Ihinipalit shrine. They both looked uncomfortable, though Bero was less obvious about it, face impassive. His restlessly shifting feet belied the calm expression, though.
A statue of the Daedric god Sheogorath towered overhead, dapper cane in hand, gazing down at the four of them. It was appropriate, Irarak thought darkly, for the madness they had met to discuss. The god would be pleased by that... hopefully, pleased enough to overlook the deaths of his three worshipers who had been there when the vampires arrived.
Part of the Hlaalu councillors' discomfort might also have been caused by being alone with two vampires, with no guards for protection, Irarak thought. Curio was a fool in some areas, but cunning enough to know that his deal with Quarra must be kept secret. Dram Bero was the only one he had ever brought to any of their meetings.
"Have you made progress?" Quarra asked bluntly, cutting into Irarak's thoughts.
"Yes, my lady," Curio replied. "We have gathered a large number of fighters, and more are coming as the word spreads among our members. Many..." he hesitated. "Many have suffered a loss of a family member or a friend to a vampire. They are eager for a chance to repay that debt."
Irarak grimaced. The councilman went on, "We have been able to make inroads into the Telvanni territory, and to fortify two of the strongholds that lay within those lands-"
Volrina waved a dismissive hand. "I am not concerned with your House's trade ambitions, Curio. When will you be ready to move on Telasero?"
Curio licked his lips before answering. "Within two weeks, three at the most, my lady. But I am concerned. I have my channels of information... The Juraene Ancient is known to be extremely dangerous. I fear that any outright attack on the stronghold will end in our failure if he is there to defend it."
Irarak glanced sideways at Quarra, who only smiled, a cruel curve of her lips. "You are correct, of course. We shall have to see that the Ancient is far away when Hlaalu makes its attack. Continue to ready your fighters, Curio; when we have the opportunity to draw Assurjan away from the stronghold, we will have to move quickly. Anything further?"
"The hunter we hired has been most helpful," Curio went on. "Nearly twenty vampires have been killed at his hands since we offered him work. And it seems that he is friends with Raema."
Quarra, who had been eying her nails with disinterest, looked up so sharply that Curio twitched. "Is that so?" she asked, in a low voice.
"The Hand was in the city this evening," Bero said, speaking up for the first time. "One of my people followed her to the hunter's home, and listened to their visit. The hunter offered to team up with the Hand on a hunt, after he returns from Dagon Fel."
Volrina Quarra smiled slowly. "That," she said thoughtfully, "is very interesting."
Silence fell in the shrine. The two Hlaalu glanced at each other.
"Irarak will contact you shortly with further instructions," Quarra said. Then, as if surprised the two were still there, she waved them away impatiently. Curio bowed, and Bero fixed Irarak with a cool, thoughtful stare as they left the shrine.
Quarra turned to Irarak, pale eyes intent on his. However much she had affected boredom with Curio's presence, it was all gone now. "What was the name of that Berne who went rogue, up near Tel Vos? Calrio, Cavio...?"
"Calvario?" Irarak guessed. Like himself, the rogue vampire had left Berne clan long ago. He remembered the Imperial only vaguely, and not fondly.
She snapped her fingers, grinning. "That's it. You will give the Hlaalu a few more days to collect their fighters. Then, you will see that the hunter is hired to capture Calvario. Do it indirectly; I don't want him to see any connection to House Hlaalu."
"Aye, my lady," Irarak said reluctantly. "What are you planning?"
She shook her head, still smiling. "Patience," she told him. "I don't think I trust you quite enough, yet. Although you have been quite obedient..." she added, her smile shifting to something deeper. She reached for the buckles on her glass bracer. "I do keep my promises. Would you care for...?"
Irarak eyed her bare wrist, remembering the cold blood in her veins, the flaring, burning power that it held. "And my vampires?" he asked, closing his hand around her forearm.
"Still alive," she reassured him. "And no less whole than at our first meeting. Continue to serve me as admirably as you have been, and they shall remain that way. Tredere sends her love," she added, with a cruel hint of mockery in her voice.
Irarak fought back a wave of fury. The bloody s'wit did not have the right to speak his lover's name aloud, much less presume to deliver a message... But there was only one way he could be strong enough to save her, and it was pulsing slowly in his grip. Resigned, he sank his fangs into Quarra's skin, drinking in the power that the Ancient had promised him, while she smiled down at him.
"I don't like this," Dram hissed, as they walked St. Delyn's underworks.
Crassius gave a long-suffering sigh, stepping over a pile of refuse. Though the underworks was always deserted, especially in the dead of night, he spoke just above a whisper. "I know you're less than enthused about our latest venture. To which part are you referring? The alliance with a vampire clan, or the fact that we plan to turn against them?"
"At the moment? The fact that we are using another vampire to do it! Why are we taking orders from that... that thing? How do we know she will not turn on us just as easily, after we have done what she wants?"
Crassius stopped at the base of the ladder to the upper level, and turned to face the Dunmer. "She will have no reason to do that... so long as we do not give her a reason. We cannot back out now, Dram. And anyway, why should we? When the eastern coast is ours... Think of it! House Hlaalu will become the most powerful influence on Vvardenfell. Telvanni and Redoran will waste away to nothing!"
"And we need the vampires to do that? If this all goes wrong, we will have two vampire Ancients thirsting for our blood."
Crassius leaned back a bit, looking surprised. "Come now, Dram... you know as well as I that making great gains entails taking great risks. You've helped me manipulate the Trade Guilds, and the East Empire Company. The only difference here is the magnitude of risk- and its reward." He grinned, clapping Dram on the shoulder. "Don't tell me you're going soft, old friend. I still need your help."
Dram pressed his lips together. "No," he said finally. "No, not going soft, thank you very much. You know me, Crassius- I am cautious by nature. That is all."
"Good." Crassius began the climb the ladder. "Come on, I need a drink."
Hands, mouths groped at her, nails and fangs gleaming. They were draining her, down to an empty shell, and she was so hungry... so hungry...
"Please, let me feed," she whimpered, as yet another bit into her flesh. Her body twisted under the pain of it, and her plea changed, almost without her realizing. "Please... let me die..."
Raema bolted upright, gasping, arms swinging, fending off vampires that were not there. In the darkness, she struck one hand against the stone wall beside her bed, hard, and hissed out a curse. Just a nightmare. Another one. Bloody oblivion, I only want to sleep!
Frustration and exhaustion made tears well up in her eyes before she could stop them. Don't be a child, she thought, dashing the tears away. She lay back on her bed, cradling her sore hand, and stared up at the ceiling.
Silweyn. She was living Raema's nightmare, only a few paces away. Vivec only knew how long Assurjan intended to keep her there.
He had threatened to do the same to Raema, once. There is always room for another sweet-blooded Bosmer among the cattle. If she'd had the courage to refuse his offer in the first place, it wouldhave been her in there. If she hadn't agreed to work for the vampire, to kill for him and send others to their deaths at his hands.
It was useless to think on might-have-beens, she knew. If she had refused Assurjan's offer of becoming his Hand, she would have been made one of the cattle... and she would have been killed, or worse, when Raxle Berne and the others attacked Assurjan. At the time, she hadn't believed she had a choice... and in truth, she still didn't believe she had.
But is it worth it? She wondered. How many more lives will I destroy on his behalf, because I chose to save my own?
She turned onto her side, staring at the door to Assurjan's chamber. He would be in there, working on his impossible new spell, no doubt. She let her lids close, and saw through Silweyn's eyes again, remembered the despair in her dream.
She would not get any more sleep today. Rubbing blearily at her eyes, she got up and left the chamber.
The cattle's pit was uncomfortably hot, as always. The nearest slaves actually shied away from her when she approached. Raema wasn't certain whether they ever heard details of the goings-on within the clan, if they had heard what Assurjan had done to the last slave she'd brought him... But at the very least, they knew that the last slave she'd chosen had never returned. She could almost feel the fear in them, pressing against her like a heavy cloak on her shoulders. She wondered what they thought of her, the one living person in the stronghold who wielded influence among the undead, who seemed a traitor to their very plight of being living food for the vampires. Guiltily, she hurried past them. She found the object of her search slumped in a deep corner, far back in the tunnel and given a wide berth by the others.
Silweyn looked up, seeming unsurprised to see her. Sweat glistened on her skin, and the nearby lava lit her face with an eerie reddish glow. Her hands were still bound with the magicka-blocking bracers Jole had provided, and a chain from the wall to a cuff on her ankle kept her segregated from the other slaves. It kept her from feeding, Raema realized. Several bite marks already marred the pale skin of her neck. Raema knew that vampires avoided feeding from each other because it was simply not as satisfying as a living victim... but she knew that there were clan members eager to take their own measure of revenge against the traitor.
Assurjan had told her not to have any contact with the prisoner, and she had managed to stay away for a few days. Now that she was here, though, she was not sure what she had thought to accomplish. She stared down at the other Bosmer, and Silwyen fixed glittering eyes on her.
"Kept a taste for blood, have you?" she asked, in an echoing voice.
Memory assaulted Raema at the words: a Berne vampire dying under her hands while his blood flowed past her fangs. She pushed the memory away and crouched before the captive.
"Why did you do it?" she said quietly.
Silweyn laughed weakly, her lip twisting. "Why do you care? Don't pretend you don't understand, Raema. You're just like me." She coughed. "The only way you'll be free is when he dies."
Raema's heart skipped a beat. More nightmare images burst into her head: Assurjan slumping over his desk, dead with her own sword in him... and the sorrow in his gaze as he'd looked at her, dying. And then, Dram Bero, gauging her loyalty. A place for you in House Hlaalu...
Silweyn turned away, staring into the lava pit just a few steps away, evidently finished talking. Raema stood, and gazed down at the chained Bosmer for a moment longer. "I will try to speak to him," she said softly. "No one deserves this. If nothing else... perhaps he will grant a quick death. If you want it."
Silweyn looked up at her sharply. "Why?"
Because it could be me in here.
When she didn't answer, Silweyn leaned her head back against the stone wall and closed her eyes. "Go away, Hand."
Holding back a sigh, Raema went.
She found the Ancient in the library, perusing his books. Despite herself, despite everything, the sight of him still made her heart leap. He did not look round from the shelves, and any other time she would have taken the opportunity to gaze at him, wishing things were different.
"My lord?"
He glanced over his shoulder at her, and must have seen in her expression how upset she was. He paused, hand on a book half-off the shelf. "What is it?"
She hesitated, taking a cautious step further into the room. "I... Silweyn has already suffered much, my lord. If there is any way to... to-"
"To show her mercy?" He finished in a dangerous voice, his expression dark. Raema tensed. "As Berne would have shown us when she betrayed us into his hands?" He sharply pushed the book back into place with a loud thump, making her flinch. "I am surprised you would ask this, Raema."
Raema held his gaze steadily. "She acted for her survival, my lord... as we all did."
He turned to face her fully, frowning. "And you believe that our continued survival will be assured by showing the clan that I tolerate her betrayal?"
"I do not ask you to free her, my lord, only... do not let her linger, being slowly drained with no end to it. Would a quick death send that much less of a message to the clan?"
"What do you think?" He asked quietly, and Raema pressed her lips together, unwilling to answer. "Juraene clan is balanced on a precipice, Raema. The other three clans have already fallen over the edge, and if we do not regain our footing, we shall follow. My vampires have seen me betrayed, have seen me survive, and been rewarded for their own loyalty. But our strength is not yet assured, and there is nothing to stop them from aligning with the next traitorous n'wah who seems to offer them their only way out of a bad situation. Silweyn gives them a constant visible reminder of the fate that awaits them, should it happen again." He paused, fixing Raema with an unblinking stare. "And I cannot say that I am sorry to do it."
Raema stared back, shocked. "It's not like you to be purposefully cruel, Assurjan."
"No?" He said, too calmly. "It is no worse than what Raxle Berne would have done to me."
"That doesn't make you better than Berne," Raema snapped. "You've already won your vampires' loyalty, Assurjan. Do you think threatening them will allow you to keep it? This is the example you wish to set? If you teach them to expect ruthlessness, it will only make any traitors that much more determined not to fail."
"You forget yourself, Hand," Assurjan said quietly. He had gone very still, which should have been a warning, but she was too upset to take notice.
"No," she blurted, without thinking. "My duty is to aid you, my lord. You gave me this position, and now I have a duty to ensure the safety of Juraene clan, just as much as you do. But you make it difficult when you do things like this, and won't listen to me when I... Assurjan, you don't even talk to me!"
"What more would you have me tell you, Raema? That I am more sorry than I can say for the way I chose to keep you alive?" That easily, they were no longer speaking of Silweyn. She blinked at the shift in subject. He'd always known what was truly bothering her these last months- why did he choose to bring it up now?
He hadn't moved, but there was a sadness to his expression that reminded her, horribly, of her nightmare. "It is true, but I have already apologized," he said, his voice going soft. "Will you change your mind if I say it again?"
Yes, she cried silently, but the word caught in her throat, and did not reach her lips.
Assurjan fixed her with a stone-white stare, unmoving. "You ask for a quick death for the traitor," he said finally. "It is not something I will grant lightly. I want you to understand the seriousness of the matter, Hand. If you wish to grant her the mercy of a quick death, it will be done at your hands."
Raema's throat went dry. She had to execute Silweyn? Horror and fury warred within her, and her mouth worked silently, unable to decide which emotion to voice.
Assurjan did not relent. "You are dismissed," he said, and held her gaze challengingly, waiting for her to leave- or to defy him. She knew that look; the latter was not a good idea.
Words crowded into her head, infuriated words and curses that she knew would spill out if she opened her mouth. Lips pressed tightly together, glaring at Assurjan, she turned and left the room without another word.