The sun had already set by the time Calcelmo came within sight of the Imperial City.
It had been a long and hard journey- made even longer by his temporary imprisonment by Imperial troops on the border, who had mistaken the venerable Altmer for a Dominion spy. He had tried explaining to the soldiers, talked at length about his research, about his own persecution and attempts at assassination by the Thalmor, leading to a magical duel between himself and Justiciar Ondolemar just before the start of the Second Great War, during which he, along with his nephew , the Jarls personal bodyguard and soldiers from Understone Keep, had driven the Thalmor forces from Markarth.
But that was all behind him and now, riding a fresh warhorse given to him by the apologetic captain of his jailers, and protected by a full ten man bodyguard of Blades from Bruma and fifty Imperial Legionnaires, he kept on towards the city beyond.
The capital of the Empire was about a mile away, lit up by thousands of torches and lanterns along its high walls and on the buildings beyond, with the White Gold Tower itself rising up like a spear tip into the night sky, the aurora lights of Aetherius reflecting of its marble-like form. And between them and the city, down the hill that the cobblestone road clung to, were the shadowy rows and ordered lines of a vast military camp, as the Legions of the Empire rallied for war.
"Beautiful isn't it?" said his companion riding next to him, leaning into her horse as they clattered down the hill, an older woman with greying hair dressed in the armour of an Imperial officer. Adelaisa Vendicci was her name, former soldier of the East Empire Company, now captain of the garrison that had imprisoned Calcelmo for several days. "Look, Calcelmo I…"
"It doesn't matter captain. It's in the past," The Altmer replied irritably, "I just hope that it's not too late for my knowledge to be of use."
"The Empire has been readying the Legions since we received the first message from the Dragonborn. There's still nineteen other Legions without Tullius' men but half are in the other provinces and what we do have in Cyroddil are either still not fully battle ready or at the coastline ready to repel the Dominion if they manage to break through the navy's blockade. Whatever you have for us Calcelmo, it'll be worth it."
As they rode on, scattering torch bearing soldiers and one bemused looking Breton courier from the Black Horse Courier, Calcelmo, his blue mage's robe whipping around him, dipped one slender hand in the saddlebag to his left. Checking the precious object within was safe, he replaced the leather cover over the top, but not before the small metallic cube within reflected the moonlight, and glowed with a cool blue light of its own.
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Emperor Titus Mede II sat in state atop the Ruby Throne, a high backed chair of Akavari kaya wood set with dozens of glittering blood red gems. Beyond the low dais the circular throne room spread out in a view of white marble pillars and polished stone walls, with a large viewing gallery looking down on the whole room. On every pillar flew the black and red dragon banner of the Empire, and beneath each banner were the unmoving black armoured forms of Penitus Oculatus warriors- elite bodyguard of the Emperor, standing at attention with swords of purest Cyrodillic steel at their hips in red leather and polished silver scabbards.
He would not normally have been up so late if it hadn't been for such strange circumstances- he didn't like to admit it to himself, but Titus was getting old. It felt like forever since the Great War, the First Great War, and even longer since his coronation. As he attempted to keep his regal posture on the uncomfortable throne, Titus tapped one ring encrusted finger, at the end of a still toned but now wrinkled arm clad in purple robes, on the ancient Akavir wood, listening with one tired ear to the gentle shuffle of feet on the marble around him, as small groups of servants attempted to remain out of his sight amongst the pillars.
When the doors at the far end of the room, a set of two tall constructions of ebony from Morrowind and gold from High Rock, opened with a clatter, Titus felt his attention instantly piqued. He had almost fallen asleep waiting for this mysterious visitor.
"Your highness!" called out the gruff but subservient voice of Commander Maro, decked out in his full Penitus Oculatus armour and a crimson cloak around his shoulders, his long black hair and matching beard both freshly trimmed, "The scholar Calcelmo of Markarth is here, seeking an audience!"
Titus frowned, rubbing his bald head in frustration, but his voice was calm as he replied, his voice echoing across the chamber.
"Send him in! "
Saluting, Maro turned and beckoned forth a figure, who stepped forward into the torchlight to reveal the gangly Altmer who Titus assumed was Calcelmo, along with a grey haired female captain and a small troop of Imperial soldiers in travel cloaks, who all dropped to their knees at the sight of the emperor.
Calcelmo however merely walked forward, seemingly more concerned with examining the Ayelid architecture of the vast room than showing fealty to the monarch before him. Titus couldn't blame him. He had never been one for sticking rigidly to ceremony and still had bad memories of his father, Romanus Mede, and his desire for nobody to so much as look at him without permission whilst in the throne room. Titus was too old, and too tired, to bother with such trivialities.
"What is it you wish to speak with me about Calcelmo of Markarth?" he asked cordially, and finally the Altmer met his gaze, looking like he had just emerged from a dream, and blinked a few times in confusion as the emperor continued, "I heard you were coming a few days ago. I must apologise on behalf of the men who detained you. You must realise that the war has us all scared. It's bad enough the Dominion are still trying to fight us when a new enemy is already rising in Morrowind. I've already deployed half of the Legions of Cyroddil to the Morrowind border and two more to the Valenwood-Elsweyr border, not even counting the men on the coast. I hope whatever you bring to us is useful. As I said, what is it you wish to speak with me about?"
The Altmer nodded slowly, and, as Titus peered a bit closer at the venerable looking Elf he could see that, behind the slightly glazed looking expression and the sense that the man was thinking about something a million miles away, there was the spark of great intelligence.
"It's not really something to speak about," the Elf replied with a slight smile, "More something to show you…"
The Altmer reached within the satchel at his side and withdrew the unmistakeable runed form of a Dwemer lexicon, holding it up so its metallic surface seemed to glow with an inner light. Instantly there was the clatter of crossbows being readied and taut bowstrings from the gallery above, and every Penitus Oculatus soldier in the room drew their sword, moving towards the confused Altmer.
Drawing his blade with a clatter, Maro ran at the Elf.
"Drop whatever you have Elf!" he spat, about to tackle the wide eyed scholar to the ground, "I don't care if you're here for the Dominion or the Dwemer, drop that cube!"
Titus had seen enough.
"Stop!" he roared, his previous tired state dropping away to be replaced by the same cold fury he had shown on the battlefields of the Great War. He nearly leapt from the Ruby Throne and stood atop the dais, watching with a slight sense of triumph as every man and woman in the room, from the agents with drawn swords around him to the black armoured forms of the crossbowmen in the upper gallery, stopped in their tracks.
"Let the poor man say his piece…" he said in a quieter voice, but the room was almost silent so everyone heard his next words, "The Dominion would never be foolish enough to send an assassin here to the Imperial City. There's a whole army encamped outside the walls and in this palace no one so much as breathes without our esteemed friend Commander Maro knowing. Let the poor man speak. I trust we have already caused him enough discomfort on the way here."
"I…" Calcelmo began, then cleared his throat, starting from the beginning again.
"I hold in my hands a Dwemer lexicon. In my research I have found innumerable uses for it. Seeing far distances, talking to someone who is miles away, projecting your thoughts. But the most interesting, and probably most useful, use of lexicons is as a repository of knowledge…Observe," he added, with all the air of a teacher lecturing his students, then lightly tapped a small circular disk on the top of the lexicon. As he did so a beam of blinding blue light shot out of the top, striking the ceiling far above them before splitting into countless blue beams of light that spread across the room.
The emperor looked on with amazement, seeing hundreds of different images forming then breaking up at random. Some things he recognised. He saw the unmistakeable form of a Dwarven Centurion- something he had only ever seen in museums- the squat form of a Dwemer tower, as well as what looked like schematics for machinery.
As the ghostly images moved across the room, making the normally stony faced Penitus Oculatus look slightly uneasy, Calcelmo continued speaking.
"I bought this particular lexicon at great expense from an adventurer working with the Imperial expeditions in the abandoned Dwemer city of Blackreach, a location I believe may have once formed the capital of the one of the largest Dwemer kingdoms- a collection of allied city states known as the Empire of Eternal Light. It came from the central citadel of Blackreach, from a pedestal beneath an artificial sun, if the stories are true. This lexicon contains more information on the Dwemer than any library, hundreds of years of history, engineering, economics, all contained on this one cube of metal. I haven't even scratched the surface of what this lexicon has to offer, your majesty. And I offer it to you," he added, finally bowing towards Titus, holding the lexicon tightly as the blue light it sent out began to fade, "With it we will know much more about this new enemy than the vague scholarly texts myself and my colleagues have written for the past centuries. Your armies can march out to meet them on an equal footing!"
"You say this lexicon came from Skyrim?" Commander Maro asked, looking sceptical, "What about the Dwemer who came from other parts of Tamriel? That's like having a guide to everything relating to Black Marsh and saying you can fight all of Tamriel using it!"
"Quiet, Maro," Titus snapped, slightly frustrated at the commander's words, "It's more of a lead than anything we have so far. Commander Maro, I want you to personally escort Calcelmo to my private quarters. I will speak further with him in private before we leave the city."
As a Penitus Oculatus soldier escorted the Altmer towards a side door, the scholar clutching the lexicon to himself tightly, Maro walked towards the emperor as Titus descended from the dais.
"Your majesty, why are we leaving the city?"
Titus smiled, "It's been a long time since I've had something this difficult to deal with. I'm almost glad of the challenge. I want us to march out in force for Skyrim. The Dwemer forces will most likely make for there if they can take Morrowind, if what our strategists are saying is correct. Send word to Amaund Mottiere. I want him to approve the Edict of Loyalty with the Elder Council. I trust most of our men will be ready to take on any foe with five hundred extra septims in their pocket."
As he said this a nearby servant bowed and ran in the direction of the council chambers. The Elder Council would hopefully still be in session now, Titus thought as he set off in the direction of the Royal Armoury.
"Commander I want you to take personal command of the city whilst I am gone. I trust your men will be up to the task?"
"Of course sir. I'll make sure to task a detachment with escorting you whilst you are with the Legions."
"Good," Titus said simply, "Now, make the arrangements. I'll be having my armour fitted while you do that. I want you and Calcelmo outside my chambers in an hour. You should be there while I discuss whatever else this Altmer has to say. Hopefully this lexicon will help in the war effort."
"So you're heading to Skyrim sir?"
Titus nodded.
"Of course. Not just the Legions either. The counts are rallying their banner men and sworn knights as we speak. I doubt the Jarls of Skyrim will complain about an extra sixty thousand men alongside them."
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An hour later and Maro and Calcelmo stood waiting outside the closed doors to the emperor's personal chambers- which was large enough to be an extra wing of the palace. Neither men spoke, nor did the two Penitus Oculatus soldiers standing guard at the doors.
Maro had never trusted Elves, especially Altmer, not because of any racial hatred though. His wife of ten years was a Bosmer and he knew many Altmer refugees form the Summerset Isles who dwelt in the so-called Crystal District of the Imperial City. He didn't trust Elves because of his background. Like many men of his age he had fought in the Great War, and had watched as his friends and two brothers were all killed by Dominion forces during the disastrous Battle of Anvil. In his job as a Penitus Oculatus agent he had rooted out many plots against the emperor, and almost all of them had been masterminded by an Elf.
And yet Calcelmo was different. He almost reminded him of his grandfather, who had also been a prominent scholar on the Dwemer, but he had been much more based around the ruined cities in Hammerfell, not Skyrim. He had the same scholarly air and detached but not necessarily cold attitude, as if he was thinking of a million different ideas at once while trying to hold a conversation. Most other Altmer he had met were brash and arrogant, but the academic was anything but, even lacking the received pronunciation of most of his race and having a similar accent to the Nords of the Reach. However, whether he was academic or not, Maro was eager to see the man gone, and waited impatiently for the emperor to arrive.
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The emperor was only five minutes away from them as Maro thought this, making his way through a nearly empty corridor with two Penitus Oculatus warriors at his side.
His normal regal robes were gone, replaced by the glittering steel plate and gold embellishments of the Septim Dynasty Armour, a stunning set of handcrafted armour forged millennia ago and embossed with gold from High Rock and silver from the Reach. Around his shoulders flowed a deep red robe marked by the black dragon crest of the Septims, and at his hip was belted the ancient Akavari style katana known as Goldbrand- a sword of mysterious origins forged of gold as hard as diamond, and the same weapon he had wielded during the Battle of the Red Ring.
It was as the emperor and his bodyguards were about to step into the corridor leading to his private quarters that Titus heard a voice shouting from behind and the slap of servant's shoes on the marble floor.
Turning around Titus saw a servant girl walking briskly towards them, a roll of pressed fabric under her arm.
The woman had the wiry figure of an Imperial, but with the pale face and high cheekbones of a Nord, and her almost platinum blonde hair flowed gracefully down the back of her rough servants robes. But it was her pale skin that really caught the emperor's eye, as white as the snow that made her gold coloured eyes seem even brighter.
"Titus -my emperor," the woman corrected herself quickly, curtseying gracefully, evidently having had years of practice, "I heard you were leaving…"
"I am, Katariah. And the answer is no before you ask…"
Katariah frowned, seemingly unperturbed by the two unimpressed looking Penitus Oculatus agents standing next to the emperor.
"Another emperor would…"
"Any other emperor would not have taken someone like you into a warzone. Besides, don't you have everything you need in the palace? I…I just can't be seen with you anymore. People are starting to say things."
"If they knew the truth they…"
"If they knew the truth I don't know what the people of this palace would do." Titus replied evenly, "I can't afford to bring you with me. Your place is here. Gods, if my father could see me talking to you like its normal. Look, I know you've been with my family for a long time but someone with your…unique position, shouldn't be wandering the palace at this hour. We'll talk about this later." He added finally then, with a slight smile at the frowning servant, the emperor turned away.
Katariah sighed. The double life she led would only get worse now the emperor wasn't in the city. And, as she looked out through a small side window out onto the torchlight courtyard below, where a few dozen Legionnaires drilled in battle formations, she felt the hunger within her rising. She tried to control it, tore her gaze away from the men below, from the veins standing out so temptingly in their necks, tried not to hear the call of the blood.
Turning away from the window and sitting herself down against the window-seat, Katariah closed her eyes and hugged her knees to herself, but it didn't dry the tears streaming down her face, or stop a twin set of gleaming white fangs from sliding out of her gums.
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Titus pushed open the doors to his private quarters, Calcelmo, Maro and two Penitus Oculatus soldiers at his back. They walked quickly down the marble floored corridor, past tapestries and lavish paintings of great events from Imperial history. Turning the corner next to a full sized painting of St Alessia freeing the slaves of Sancre Tor, they came to another large set of doors, where two other Penitus Oculatus agents stood, their heads bowed and fists on their hearts in the traditional salute.
Although Titus acknowledged their salute, the men still didn't move from their position as he passed them, not meeting his eye and Titus felt a slight feeling of confusion pass through him. Shrugging, he put it down to Maro's overzealous training scheme. His father would have been proud.
"Let's get this over with," Titus said as they entered the large, dimly lit room and Maro shut the door behind them, "I thought I told those men outside to always keep the lights on. Light the candles would you?" he added politely to the two Penitus Oculatus men, who bowed and moved amongst the collection of gilded candlesticks on the tables around the edges of the room.
Stepping across the marble tiled floor to the large central table, Titus, Maro and Calcelmo looked at each other from opposite ends of the table.
"No sense standing on ceremony, Elf," Maro said bluntly, "Show us the lexicon. And explain why this cube of knowledge is really that important…"
If Calcelmo was in any way annoyed by the commander's attitude, he didn't show it as he placed the lexicon in front of him on the table, and moved his hand to unlock its power once more.
Titus took a deep breath as the Elf moved forward. He didn't know why but something felt…wrong, about this room, this situation.
Then Calcelmo's thin fingers touched the button atop the lexicon and the lances of blue light shone out again.
As Titus looked up at the ceiling he saw, shown up for a second in the flash of bright blue, a shadowy figure clinging to the roof across the room.
"Stay down!" Maro roared, drawing his sword as the figure crawled along the ceiling like a spider to the far end of the room, then, as silent as a predator stalking trapped prey, leapt down and alighted softly on the polished floor.
Without a second's hesitation, Titus drew Goldbrand, the shimmering surface of the blade seeming to shine in the blue light, and stepped in front of the table next to Maro, watching as the two Penitus Oculatus agents ran at the intruder, who almost entirely blended into the gloom in their black armour.
The figure didn't flinch as the two warriors ran at them, and whispered a quick spell under their breath. Instantly every candle in the room was snuffed out, the only remaining light being the randomly shifting lines of blue emerging from the lexicon. The two Penitus Oculatus men looked around wildly, their quarry having disappeared into the shadows.
But as Calcelmo sent off a small orb of Magelight from his hand, Titus saw for a second a shadow standing directly behind the two men. He began to shout a warning as, with a flourish, the figure produced two ebony daggers shimmering with red light from their hip and slashed the throats of the two guards simultaneously.
"Get behind me sir!" Maro bellowed, looking around wildly as the figure disappeared into the shadows once more.
Titus wasn't going to stand back though. As he balanced Goldbrand in both hands, eyes glancing all around him, making sure his back was against the table, he kept himself calm and ready to fight.
"Calcelmo, get out of here," he said simply and calmly, "Get the Penitus Oculatus. Myself and Commander Maro will…"
The Altmer was already running for the door as the words left Titus' lips, but the emperor hadn't even finished speaking before a shape appeared from the gloom and leapt at him.
Deflecting the slash of his assailant's knife, Titus moved to his left, the clash of metal on metal filling the room as he parried the knife slashes and stabs coming at him in a flurry of ebony blades.
Maro ran to help him, raising his sword in a two handed grip as he came up behind the assassin.
The commander's battle cry turned the assailant's head long enough for Titus to rush forward, swinging Goldbrand two-handed and bringing it in a slash for his opponent's midsection.
In the seconds it took his sword to find its mark, the assassin had already sidestepped it and, in a blast of arcane black smoke, was gone. Goldbrand cut through the smoke, but already the enemy was gone.
"You are getting slow aren't you, your majesty?" called out a voice from the far end of the room, with the unmistakable haughty tone of a female Altmer, and both men instantly turned to the source of it.
"Almost takes the fun out of it." The voice called out again, this time from the complete opposite side to where it had last spoken.
"Still, a jobs a job." The mysterious Altmer said simply, and this time her words came from right on top of them.
"Get..!" Maro shouted as he looked up at the ceiling above them, but by then it was too late. Descending like a thunderbolt, a figure of black armour and arcane smoke dropped down next to the Penitus Oculatus commander.
"Try it…Elf," Maro spat, as the two warriors circled each other, "I doubt your daggers can pierce this armour…"
The Altmer laughed and advanced on Maro, and Titus felt a stab of fear course through him as he finally saw the assassin properly.
Dressed from head to foot in a surprisingly light looking armour of ebony plate and blackened chainmail and her face hidden by an ebony helm, the Altmer more resembled a Dremora warrior than the Thalmor agent he had been expecting. But it was the long bladed dagger that she withdrew from an ornate sheath at her hip that really struck fear into the elderly emperor.
"Mehrunes Razor…" the Altmer said, almost reverently, "Fitting that I kill the last of the Mede Dynasty with the weapon of the god who destroyed the Septim Dynasty."
And with that she leapt forward, the Razor clashing against Maro's sword with a clash of steel. Maro moved back, slashing at the Altmer, forcing her to dodge his blows. With the longer range of his sword, Maro looked as if he could take her on, as he drove the assassin back.
Behind them Calcelmo had reached the door, but, much as he hammered his fist futilely on it and pulled on the handles, he couldn't get it open.
"You won't be leaving this room alive," the assassin declared with a haughty laugh, "I enchanted the door before I let you find me. The only thing getting through that door now is a battering ram!"
Her blade clashed against Maro's once again, sparks flying as she dragged the Razor up the length of the blade, dangerously close to slashing Maro's throat before he pushed her back with a rough shove.
"I made sure to kill those guards on the door a good hour ago," she added, drawing one of her ebony daggers and slashing both weapons at Maro, keeping an eye on Titus as he began to come at her from the other side, "Froze their bodies in place so you wouldn't suspect…"
As she said this Titus ran at her, slashing Goldbrand at her chest. The assassin bent backwards, letting the blade swing over her before aiming a savage kick at the emperor's knee, forcing him backwards just as Maro came in from the other side, his own attack blocked between her two daggers.
"My name is Lilith, the Shadow of Alinor, and First Blade to the Thalmor High Council." The assassin said as she pushed his sword away and advanced on Maro, swinging her blades in a complex flurry that left Maro unsure what to block as he only just managed to keep the deadly blades from cutting his throat.
"And I am the bringer of your demise…" she added, as she dodged under Maro's swing and slashed him on his unarmoured hand.
For a second Titus, still attempting to recover from nearly having his kneecap shattered, thought nothing of it, and neither did Maro, but then the assassin, Lilith, laughed again as she leapt back.
"I see none of you have read much into the Razor of Mehrunes Dagon. The ancient scrolls say that it took merely a touch from its edge…"
As she said this Maro paled and, with his mouth open in a silent scream, collapsed to the floor, his sword clattering uselessly next to his body as he fell to the marble with a dull thump.
"…to tear the very life force from a man." She finished, then there was no more time for talk as Titus ran at her, slashing and hacking Goldbrand at her but hitting only air.
Titus kept up the attack, but Lilith almost seemed to be playing with him, merely ducking and dodging his strikes, while her own attacks with the Razor and her dagger were mere feints to catch him out.
Pushing her back towards the frozen door, Calcelmo leapt aside with a cry of fear, and Lilith turned her head to him briefly.
"Don't worry Calcelmo. I'll get to you soon. The Dominion has need of your knowledge…"
The emperor panted heavily as he kept up the attack, angry at this arrogant Elf who almost seemed to be playing with him. The Altmer was like a snake, always sliding away just out of his grasp, her attacks precise and swift- making his own strikes seem as clumsy as a giant's club.
Already he could feel himself tiring, his age getting the better of him again. He needed to finish this assassin soon. Leaping forward he rushed at her, but Lilith merely sidestepped his attack and, before he had a chance to react, Goldbrand rebounded over the frozen form of the door and he barely managed to dodge her counter, the Razor passing within inches of his unarmoured head. He cursed himself silently for not wearing his helmet with the armour.
As he managed to grip Goldbrand properly again and retreat back, Titus felt an odd feeling coming over him, his whole being seeming to get colder, and a sharp pain began to spread through every part of him.
"I didn't mention did I…" Lilith said, this time her tone more serious as Titus kept pushing her back with his now anger fuelled attacks and she blocked every strike, "My armour isn't just some ebony plate a filthy Dunmer threw together. This is the Ebony Mail of the Master of Plots herself, Boethiath. I see you wield Goldbrand. Interesting. Last I heard the Dark Mistress has bestowed it upon the Champion of Cyroddil. Well, irony is a funny thing isn't it…"
And with that Lilith leapt forward, switching Mehrunes Razor in her hand from a slashing position to a stabbing one, and plunged it straight into the centre of Titus' breastplate.
Then the clatter of Oblivion-forged steel rebounding off metal filled the room.
"What!" Lilith said with obvious surprise, her arm recoiling back at her failed attack, and a grin spread across Titus' pale face.
"My armour is the Lord's Mail, forged by Kynareth herself for the mortal men of Tamriel to fight against Daedric champions like you. Did you really think your puny Daedric dagger could pierce the armour of the Goddess of the Heavens who helped craft all of creation?"
For the first time since she had attacked, Lilith was rendered speechless and, with a new fire in his heart, Titus pushed her back, his blade a near blur of gold as his newfound energy drove the Altmer back with a flurry of attacks that she only just managed to parry. With one last slash that broke her ebony dagger in two and sent Mehrunes Razor flying into the shadows, Titus forced Lilith against the wall, placing Goldbrand up against her throat.
"I don't care what kind of hell-forged amour you're wearing," Titus said slowly, "But this sword was forged Eras ago by the Dragons of the North as tribute to Tiber Septim. Nothing will save you from the blade of Talos himself!"
If Lilith had any kind of remark or counter, she didn't say it and Titus smiled darkly.
"Now, before I have you given the same punishment I meted out to Lord Naarfiin, tell me who you work for."
That was when Lilith laughed and Titus angrily pushed the blade slightly into her neck, enough to pierce the blackened mail and reveal her golden Altmer skin that seemed so bright in the near darkness.
"I represent the Aldmeri Dominion, yes, but I serve a much nobler cause also. I am a Daughter of Sithis."
"No…" Titus said softly, his eyes widening.
"Interesting fact about the Dark Brotherhood." Lilith added casually, with all the air of someone just recounting a simple detail.
"They always work in pairs." Said a voice from behind Titus, and then he felt the scrape of ebony against his throat, as a black dagger tore a jagged line across his neck and his blood flowed freely out and onto the Lord's Mail.
"Leave him Veezara." Lilith snapped, and the assassin behind the dying emperor, a broad shouldered Argonian dressed in the Brotherhood's black armour and hood, let the man fall, Titus Mede II's last words being nothing more than a strangled choking sound.
"As you will, Listener." The Argonian rasped, and the two assassins turned to see Calcelmo cowering in the far corner, Commander Maro's sword in one hand and a charged lighting spell in the other.
As they began walking towards the defenceless scholar, the sound of booted feet and raised voices outside the door became audible.
"The Penitus Oculatus took their time." Veezara said with a hoarse laugh.
"No matter. By the time they break through that door we'll be long gone," Lilith said as the thump of axes on wood came from the other side of the door, and more shouted commands, "Veezara, find us an escape route."
As the Argonian bowed and ran to the shuttered windows at the other end of the room the Altmer turned back to Calcelmo.
"Now Calcelmo, you don't want to make this any harder on yourself do you?" she said as she picked up Mehrunes Razor from where it lay near her feet. "I was ordered to bring you alive but it is a long journey to Morrowind and I may get a bit…frustrated, along the way if you make it hard now."
Taking a deep breath Calcelmo closed his eyes for a second, then dropped the sword, the magic in his hand fizzling out with a slight crackle.
"Good good," Lilith said with false kindness as she stepped towards him, tracing one leather gloved hand across the scholar's wrinkled face. "Don't worry though. Lord Naarfiin will be most pleased to see you, and…" she added with a glance at the still glowing lexicon on the table,"…all the secrets of the Dwemer are just an added bonus really."