I strode up the steps of Cloud Ruler Temple, giving a curt nod to Roliand as he stood guard at the gate. My steps took me swiftly to the great doors of the fortress, and, taking only a small pause to calm my nerves, I pushed them open and entered. The scene was not what I expected.

"He should have returned by now," Martin argued. His hands rested on the worn wooden surface of one of the tables and he angrily stared down Jauffre, who stood on the other side. The old Blade, to his credit, looked very resolute with his arms folded stubbornly over his armour.

"Baurus can handle himself perfectly well," he explained with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "This daedric quest you have sent him on cannot be a simple one to complete, and we can spare no men to search for him regardless. We are already too few in number for my taste."

"Your taste is not what I'm worried about," Martin muttered, looking away and clearly upset.

"Has something happened to Baurus?" I asked as I moved closer, concern tightening in my chest. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to be at all. Baurus was supposed to be here too, safe with Martin, watching over him as he always was, waiting for… waiting for me to come back. I banished that final thought swiftly.

Jauffre and Martin both turned to me, surprised by my voice. Martin's gaze quickly turned to relief. Jauffre's manifested in… thinly veiled displeasure?

"Sarasamacial," the Grandmaster said coolly. "You have returned."

"And not a moment too soon, my friend," Martin said eagerly. His expression soured as he glanced at Jauffre, but it passed quickly. "Jauffre will not send another Blade to Baurus' aid. I sent him out to seek a daedric artefact, but there has been no word and he is already a day overdue."

I tensed, unconsciously checking that the straps and buckles running over my recently returned elven armour were all secured.

"To which shrine did he go? In which direction?" I asked, my voice much more anxious that I would have liked.

"Sire, Baurus is a Blade. He, like all the others, would not like the idea of you having any less protection than was possible. He knows where his duty lies."

Martin glanced at me, an apology in his eyes.

"Sarasamacial is not a Blade," he said, returning his gaze to Jauffre, "and I am sure she would be willing to go look for Baurus. He is her friend as well, isn't he?"

"Baurus is but one day late. Since she has deigned" – the grandmaster shot me a look – "to return to us, Sarasamacial's skills could be put to much use—"

I took a step forward, moving to stand at Martin's side.

"If that is your wish, Your Imperial Majesty," I said with a sidelong glance at Jauffre. "I'm sure the Grandmaster of your Blades would be more than willing to see it done."

By the deepening of Jauffre's frown lines, my not-so-subtle pulling of rank on Martin's behalf did not go unmissed. Martin himself blinked at me as if only just realizing he was the superior here.

"Yes, ah, then you… have my leave to go," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to Jauffre as if expecting a severe reprimand. Jauffre merely stood rigid.

"If that is truly your wish, Sire," he said stiffly, and then, after a short bow, he turned on his heel and left the room.

Martin let his breath out, his shoulders deflating.

"Thank you," he said. He absentmindedly straightened a misplaced paper on the table, and, by the slight discomfiture in his posture, the farmer's son in him was painfully obvious. "While Jauffre is most likely right and Baurus is fine, I can't help but worry for him. He is one of the few companions I have grown close to in these past weeks."

"You do know you are the emperor, yes?" I asked him, my eyes on the myriad of texts. The paper he had straightened was not the only one on the table, and I cringed to think of the expense of the parchment – all covered in Martin's hastily scrawled notes – littered about on the rough surface. "What I pulled with Jauffre you could do at any time."

I was greeted with a weary, amused smile.

"Perhaps," he said – a little weakly, as if he didn't quite believe it. "But I don't think I could cause him quite so much annoyance as you can while doing it."

I laughed.

"Perhaps not," I agreed. "But maybe that's a good thing." My face sobered, and I reached into my pouch to pull out my weathered, oiled map. "Now, tell me where you sent Baurus, and I'll go make sure our bull-headed friend isn't dead."

It was late afternoon by the time I slipped down from the Shadowmere's withers, and approached the Shrine of Azura. As I entered the clearing housing the tall statue dedicated to her, three pairs of red eyes turned on me. The Argonian, deeming me not to be a threat, turned away first. Out of the two Dunmer watching me, the younger rose and approached.

"I am Mels Maryon," he said. "And you have entered a holy place. What is your business here?"

"I'm looking for a man," I told him. "A Redguard, about a head and a bit taller than me with cropped black hair, probably well armed. I had word that he was searching for the Shrine of Azura."

The Dunmer was quiet a moment, his red eyes searching mine, and then he turned his gaze to the sculpted form of his daedric Lady.

"There indeed was a man of that description here, but that was two days ago. He spoke to Azura and has not been seen since." He pointed over my shoulder up the mountain. I followed the line of his hand. "The last we saw he was heading north, up towards the Sidri-Ashak Rune Stone."

I nodded, my mouth tight. Two days since anyone had last seen Baurus? This did not bode well. I pushed away the sick feeling in my gut.

"Thank you," I said, turning back to the Dunmer. "I'll leave you to your prayers."

The man dipped his head in reply, and then returned to his place by his older compatriot. I moved to Shadowmere and took her nose in my hands.

"If you see sign of Baurus, make it known," I said, staring her in the eye and calling upon the ancestral magic of the Bosmer. I let it flow through me, making in my mind's eye a picture of the man I was searching for. "If you see him, bring me to him." Our minds locked, and for a few moments all else disappeared as my command became ingrained within her being. Then she blew out her breath and the link was broken. Satisfied that I had used my magic to the best of my ability, I mounted and turned her head towards the mountains north of us.

I saw the smoke before anything else. It curled above the treetops on the mountainside, and I turned Shadowmere towards it, unsure if it could be connected in any way to Baurus' disappearance. Breaking through the trees, I came into a partial clearing, and saw the source of the smoke: a ruined Oblivion gate. I dismounted before it, hissing and holding my stomach as the movement caused a shock of pain to rush through me – I'd not yet fully recovered from the Mythic Dawn assassination attempt five days ago – then lowered my hand a set about searching for any sign of survivors nearby. Daedra corpses littered the ground, their sunken eyes betraying only a day's worth of decay, and the ground was still freshly torn from a fierce and raging battle. A few blades, broken or warped beyond use, were scattered around on the charred earth, and I reached down to lift one up, inspecting the damage. It was an Akaviri dai-katana, the length of it twisted by – what I assumed to be – the heat of an Atronach's flame. I let it fall back to the earth.

There was only one group other than the Blades I knew of that bore the arms of the long dead Akaviri: the blind monks of the Ancestor Moth order. Seeing that their temple – if I was recalling correctly – was only a small distance east of here, it made sense that they would send their warriors to deal with the threat of an Oblivion gate and the daedra. But if it was the Moth priests who had closed the gate here, where was Baurus?

I stepped forward, scouring the ground for any more clues that might lead me to my missing friend. Rumbling startled me as part of the broken Oblivion gate suddenly came loose and crashed to the ground, and I jumped back, heart racing and alert. Something clinked under the heel of my boot, and I glanced down to see the hilt of a katana rising out of the dirt, lifted by the pressure of my weight on its blade. Reaching down, I lifted it, my mouth going dry. It was no dai-katana that I held in my hand, but an ordinary Akaviri blade, a blade I had become intimately familiar with after having it held at my throat many times over several sparring matches.

It was Baurus' katana.

I glanced around. Was he nearby? Was he hurt? He must be, else why would he leave his blade behind? He must have been wounded to the point that he couldn't protest its abandonment, or, if nothing else, wounded to the point where his protestations were ignored.

So had he been taken to the Temple of the Ancestor Moths, then? Had they decided to help him, treat his wounds? I tried not to think of the alternative in which Baurus' sword hadn't been left behind in spite of protestation, but because there was none to be given. My mind turned to the thought of Jauffre, of how his face would grow still and cold if I gave him Baurus' sword, of how he would take it silently, knowing what it meant. Of how he would turn his back to me, and reverently, despairingly, place the blade on the mantel of the Great Hall's fireplace. Of how Martin would ask what was wrong, and how he would be stricken with grief and guilt upon hearing it. No, Martin was not an emperor yet. His soul still scarred too easily.

With sudden purpose, I turned and made my way back to Shadowmere – she was staring off into the copse of trees to our left – and pulled out a length of cord from one of her saddlebags, using it to strap Baurus' sword to my own, Chillrend. Baurus wouldn't be dead. I'd find him at the Temple of the Ancestor Moths. Oblivion take it. Live, you bastard. That done, I hoisted myself up into the saddle and put my heels to Shadowmere's side, urging her in the direction of the Temple of the Ancestor Moths. She trotted forward a few steps, then came to a stop, her ears pricked forward and head once again looking in the direction of the copse. I looked over.

"There's nothing there," I told her. "We don't have time for this." I put my heels gently to her sides, and, although she leaned in the direction I asked her to go, did not move. "Shadowmere," I said, my voice rising in warning, but she did not seem to heed me, her attention fixed on whatever had claimed it earlier. I urged her forward again, harder, and still she ignored me. Then, with a gathering of her strength, she stepped away from our chosen direction and swerved hard into the trees. "Shadowmere!" I shouted, and then cursed as I was forced to manoeuvre around a swath of branches intent on knocking me from her back. She pushed on, oblivious to my anger, until we emerged on the other side of the copse and into midsized clearing. The foul stench of rotting meat assaulted my senses. I grimaced and raised an arm to bury my nose in the crook of my elbow. Foolish of me not to notice such a thing before. Foolish, stupid, and weak – I should never have let my concern Baurus cloud my senses.

Shadowmere trembled under me. I followed her gaze to the source of the rancid smell, and swallowed: A troll corpse. I slid from her shoulders, making my way cautiously to the carcass, wary of any predators or scavengers who may be about, and not entirely trusting that it was dead despite the smell and the cloud of flies buzzing about it. Trolls were notorious for their health regeneration. I never really considered them dead until their heads were several feet from their shoulders.

As I moved closer, however, it became clear that this troll was, indeed, deceased, even despite the lack of parting between its head and neck. It was covered in lacerations, some shallow, some deep, and there was a great, bloody hole in chest above its heart where it looked to have been pierced by a blade several times over. The head, too, bore a terrible, gory gash. Whatever had killed this beast, it wasn't an animal.

I turned my head to look over at Shadowmere where she waited patiently at the edge of the clearing for me.

"I don't know why you wanted to show me this," I said as I watched her fidget. "You're frightened three times over by this thing, and I don't see how it's of any use to me." She lowered her head and continued to watch me, her dark eyes flickering back and forth between me and the corpse. I frowned and made to rise.

Someone coughed.

I froze and glanced back at the troll carcass, wondering, and then motioned for Shadowmere to stay where she was before turning in the direction of the sound. Is this what had caught her attention? A survivor, perhaps? The trees were thick on the edge of the clearing opposite the Oblivion gate, and, as I made my way through them, I noticed an alarming amount of blood glistening on the silken leaves of the low lying bushes. I pushed through the growth faster, Chillrend singing from its sheath as the sound of rushing water reached my ears. The last of the leaves parted before me, and I found myself on the edge of a clear, cold stream. A cough sounded, pain filled and rattling. I cast about until my eyes landed on the prone figure of a man half submerged in the stream's water. Rushing to him, I hooked my hands gently under his arms, drew him up onto the bank, and carefully turned him over. My breath caught in my throat.

Quickly I laid one hand on the man's fevered brow, the other down his body, checking the state of his wounds. Brown eyes fluttered open beneath my palm, glazed with pain. Cracked lips whispered hoarsely. "I know," I murmured back, "I know. I'm here now. Shh, don't talk. Save your strength. I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to make you live, Baurus."

I worked long into the night, heating water, stitching flesh, binding poultices, and otherwise doing what I could to save my friend. I kept my healing potions until the end; I remembered too well Martin's words after Kvatch – whoever healed you kept you alive, but it was not cleanly done. The wound was soiled and infection spreading – and refused to let something as trivial as a tiny, infected cut destroy what little my healing knowledge was able to save. My magic, too, waited until the end, and, when I had used what magicka reserves I held in my body and laid myself down, exhausted, beside him, I fell immediately into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I woke to the smell of smoke.

I shot up, my hand curling around the hilt of Chillrend, my eyes flashing about to discern the lay of the danger. Baurus was not beside me. The fire was stoked, burning merrily, and a figure… I blinked, surprised, then scowled.

"Baurus, what are you doing up? Get back to bed, immediately."

A half smile appeared on the Redguard's features as he crouched beside the fire, his dark hands adding another log to the flames. He was clothed, I noted – I had, after all, stripped him down to his undergarments to tend his wounds – although the collar of his shirt was loosely tied and revealed much of his bandage wrapped chest.

"Is that an order from the Hero of Kvatch?"

I scowled at him further.

"Yes, if it will get you back to bed. It took me most of the night to stitch you up, I'll have you know. Don't you dare think to waste all that effort."

"I won't, I swear," he said with a bit of a laugh, which swiftly turned into a grimace and a groan of pain as he put an arm to his bandaged ribs.

"See?" I said scathingly. "Look at you. You laugh and you're cringing with pain."

"It's not that bad," Baurus replied. "It'll go away in a bit."

A wave of fury broke over me.

"Four broken ribs, a broken arm, and numerous lacerations and burns don't count as 'not that bad," I said, my voice nearly a hiss. "What did you try to do, kill that troll with your bare hands?"

"No," he said defensively, and then, looking a little cowed, "I had a blade."

I raised an eyebrow at him crossly.

"A blade? You mean the one I found at the Oblivion gate?"

Baurus glanced up, surprise giving way quickly to shame, and then to obstinate resolution.

"How did you…? No, never mind. It was there when I came out, and I had to kill it. Didn't leave me much choice when it pulled it out of my hands." He drew the dagger he had hidden in his boot. "I used this one."

I stared at him flatly.

"Baurus, that is a dagger. This—" I gestured at the katana still strapped to my own sword "—is a blade."

"This is a blade," he argued stubbornly.

"You expect me to believe you slew a troll with a dagger?"

He drew himself up defensively.

"What?" he said. "You don't believe me? I'm the youngest Blade to serve in the emperor's personal guard. You think I earned that honour lightly?"

"I assumed you earned that honour through outstanding ability in battle and with loyalty just like everybody else, not attempting suicide!"

"I wasn't attempting suicide!"

"Going to kill a troll with a dagger would be considered suicide by most!"

"Why does this bother you so much?"

I choked on the retort that had been waiting at the back of my throat, caught off guard by the Redguard's question. The anger filtered away as quickly as it had come.

"Because I couldn't… I don't want—" to know you are gone… and never coming back. "—to tell Martin that you had died," I finished lamely. "He's already beating himself up for sending you alone. To know that you had died in his service... Martin isn't ready for that kind of guilt yet."

Baurus' shoulders fell as he let out a sigh, his expression sobering as he gazed into the fire. Was it imagination, or did I see a twinge of disappointment cross his face for a moment?

"Martin will make a good emperor one day," he said quietly. "He cares for his people."

"…yes. That he does." I didn't bother to tell Baurus that sometimes a warm heart was a fatal characteristic in a leader, should he or she come upon a hard, cold decision or across a merciless truth. Let him have his idealistic fantasies while they lasted. He shifted as the silence stretched between us, his hand gradually moving to his side where I knew a raw, pale scar lingered beneath his bandages.

"Is it bothering you?" I asked quietly. "I'm not angry anymore, and I'm sure my magicka has returned enough to perform another healing."

"No," Baurus said with a shake of his head. "It's fine. You must be tired after last night. I can manage."

Renegus' leg crumbling under its own weight flashed across my mind.

"I don't want you to 'manage'. Here, let me see." I rose and crossed our little camp, kneeling beside Baurus as he half-heartedly made to wave me away. I fixed him with a look and he quieted. Lifting his shirt, I inspected the bloodied bandages – the remnants of the cloak I bought in the Imperial City – and tsked. "You shouldn't push yourself," I admonished, unwinding the cloth. He tensed as I laid a hand on the freshly bared flesh there, but said nothing when I gazed up at him with questioning eyes. I turned my attention back to the wound, calling upon my inner reserves and trying not to think about how my bare skin was upon his.

"Martin isn't the only one who would grieve your passing," I said quietly as I worked. Baurus didn't reply. He had turned that rather becoming shade I'd seen before at Cloud Ruler, but I pretended not to notice, although a small smile did tug at the corners of my lips. The magic sang through my fingertips and into his flesh, drying the blood and knitting the torn skin back together. Slowly he relaxed under my hand. I felt his eyes on the top of my head.

"Would you grieve for me?" he asked sombrely. I caught myself just as I was about to say 'yes', my tongue loosened by the sincerity in his voice, and scoffed.

"Grieve for you? A man who gives me nothing but trouble and insists on getting himself killed for the empire? Of course not. Seems like a waste of effort."

"You've wasted an awful lot of effort to keep me alive, then." I could hear the smile in his words.

"Cheeky," I grumbled good-naturedly. "This is an investment, not a waste."

The magic flickered painfully under my fingertips, my reserves run dry after so little regeneration, and I winced. A large, brown hand settled over my own. I looked up to meet Baurus' earnest gaze.

"It's enough," he said softly, eyes unwavering. "Thank you."

For some reason I could not fathom, heat bloomed in my cheeks. I looked away, startled by it and seeking to keep him from noticing, although on my fairer skin such a thing was probably difficult to ignore.

"You need not thank me," I replied, my voice low as my mind went around in a whirlwind, trying to figure out exactly when I had turned into a blushing maiden. "Your life was in my power to save. There wasn't any other choice to make."

His hand tightened around mine.

"There was," he insisted, leaning forward and trying to catch my gaze. "You didn't have to come back. You didn't have to look for me. By Talos, you could have just left me to die in that stream, but you didn't."

I glanced up at him sharply.

"And how do you even know I was looking for you? How do you know I wasn't out here on some selfish quest?"

"Because I don't think I've ever heard a truly selfish word pass your lips. Everything you do you do for others – Uriel, Martin, even your courier, Llensa or whatever her name is. Despite whatever you say you've done you're the most honourable person I know."

I glanced away, eyes downcast.

"I'm not honourable, and you barely know me," I said. "I'm sure there are many more admirable people in the Blades."

A crooked smile caught his lips.

"This again? I thought we'd left it behind in Luther Broad's," he teased. "Sara… you do things that other people wouldn't even think of. Lay your life down for Tamriel? Close Oblivion gates? No one else does that."

"You do all these things."

"Without an oath to hold me? Not quite."

"I doubt you need your oath to inspire such deeds. It's who you are, Baurus."

"And from what I've seen, it's who you are, too."

I didn't meet his gaze, instead frowning lightly as I extracted my hand from his grip. He let it go without protest.

"And what if I really am doing all these things for selfish reasons?" I asked. "What if I'm only doing it out of atonement? Out of fear?"

"To that," Baurus replied soberly, "I'd have to ask what you've done to frighten yourself so much."

I drew back, my mouth pressed into a thin line.

"I asked you not to question me about my past."

Baurus blinked.

"I didn't ask you anything!"

"'What are you frightened of, Sara? What deep, dark secret haunts you?' Sounds like a question to me."

"I didn't say that."

"Didn't you?"

"Not quite."

"But you wanted to. It's still prying."

I rose and crossed the camp, settling onto my bedroll with my back to him and busying myself with untying his katana from my own sword.

"Sara…" His voice was imploring, but he trailed off, sighing. "I'm sorry if I've offended you," he said eventually. "I didn't mean to pry. I just wanted to let you know how highly I think of you, and how grateful I am to you for saving my life."

I was silent, thinking on his words. When I spoke, it was in a hushed, subdued tone.

"I'm not offended, Baurus. I'm… afraid."

"Afraid?"

Although I could not see him, the confusion in his voice was unmistakeable.

"My past is dark, deadly, and more vengeful than you can imagine," I explained. "I try to leave it behind as much as possible, but you… you are very apt at dredging it up without meaning to and with little warning."

Baurus was still a moment.

"Is that why you were so angry when you found out about Luther Broad's?" he asked. "You were afraid I'd heard something I shouldn't have?"

"Yes," I replied quietly. The Blade fell silent at that. I finished separating the two swords, and rose and crossed the camp to him, offering the weapon solemnly. He took it without a word, looking preoccupied, and I returned to my own seat. The fire crackled as I settled myself down.

"Is someone hunting you, Sara?" Baurus asked finally, looking up and over at me. I didn't fail to note his use of the word 'hunted' rather than 'looking for' or some similarly tame phrase, and wondered exactly how much of my sleep talking at Luther Broad's had been in Bosmeri.

I shook my head.

"No. Well, maybe. There's been nothing to suggest I'm still being sought out, but I can never be sure. It would be too risky to find out definitively."

"Are you in any danger?"

"If they're still looking for me, yes. But the incident that caused all this happened many years ago, and those involved would have to, first, still be alive, and, second, recognize me.

"And how likely is that?"

"I don't know. Most of those involved were Men, but they were not all so old as to have passed on by now. It's more than likely their choice of lifestyle has brought to them their end, but... " I trailed off and shrugged. "I survived this long by making sure they thought me dead. But if they were to reconsider that assumption, it would only take one slip."

"Is this why you refused membership with the Blades?"

"Partly," I admitted. "But if I really didn't want to be showcased, I wouldn't have accepted the championship of the Guild. I'm too vain for my own well-being." I sighed, shaking my head at my own stupidity. I should have never accepted the championship of the Guild. I should have just kept my head down for a century or so until they were all assuredly dead and then gone out to live my life. And now all this "hero" business... "I'm not a Blade," I said fervently, raising my eyes to his and trying to make him understand. "I'm not good, or honourable, or any of those things you seem to think I am. I'm a thief and a––" I choked on the words, not wanting to say them but needing him to understand. "I'm a murderer, Baurus. No matter how fast or far I run, I'll never be able to escape that truth."

Baurus frowned at my last statement, unease flickering across his face.

"A murderer?" he said. I dropped my gaze to the fire.

"Yes," I said as I closed my eyes, wishing that the innocent faces still lingering before them would disappear as easily as the image of the fire. "A murderer." I opened my eyes. Baurus continued to stare at me with an expression I couldn't decipher, and I turned my face away, unable to bear it. "Just... a couple months ago," I began, feeling compelled to explain, to give some excuse. "Modryn sent me on a contract to infiltrate the ranks of the Blackwood Company. The Company was a mercenary organization like the Guild, only it had few regulations and no qualms about sending its men to complete the overly dangerous or illicit contracts we would reject. From the time they began, there were rumours of frequent 'accidents' that occurred during their contracts, but we were willing to live and let live, despite the strain their presence put on our business – or lack thereof, more like. At least, we were until they killed the sole surviving son of our then guild master. I was chosen to infiltrate because I had encouraged the guild master's son to take contracts behind her back, and she didn't take lightly to the news when it was learned that her son had been killed on such a one. She demoted me two ranks, so no one was surprised by my 'defection'. The Blackwood Company said they would be glad to have me, only I needed to prove my intentions before becoming a full-fledged member and learning all their secrets."

I paused, the memories flooding in: the scent of the Khajiit beside me, the excited, eager atmosphere of the room, the sweet taste of the potion on my tongue.

"They made me drink bad hist sap before going on a mission," I said, "to 'give me strength and courage', and to prove my loyalty. It was drink or be exposed, so I did as they bade. We went to the village of Water's Edge to engage a clan of goblins who were terrorizing the villagers there. I remember thinking how strange it was that many of them didn't fight back. I blacked out halfway through the battle, and woke up in Modryn's house in Chorrol some time later. When I told him about Water's Edge, he sent me back to check on the villagers. Had a bad feeling, he said. When I got there, they were dead." I paused, swallowing back the bitter taste of guilt. "In our hist addled state, we'd mistaken the villagers for the goblins we'd been hired to protect them from. No one survived. Not even the children."

My conscience burned as I remembered the little form of a boy, shrouded by his mother's bloodied arms. I'd killed him, I knew. I remembered thinking how odd it was for a goblin to be so small. Even as an assassin, I'd never before stooped to such abominable depths as killing children.

"I'd… heard about that," Baurus said quietly. "About a village being murdered. I didn't realize the Fighters Guild was involved in it."

"That's because it wasn't," I snapped, sorrow and shame suddenly turning to defensiveness and guilt inspired anger. "Weren't you listening? I was working with the Blackwood Company! The Fighters Guild has rules, regulations, codes of conduct. Modryn would never allow –" I stopped, catching my temper before it ran away with me, and forced myself to calm. "Modryn would never endorse such dangerous practices," I continued more evenly. "That's why I was there. We wanted to stop any more accidents from happening to any innocents in the way, and to our defected once-guild-mates and the clients they served." It was just ill luck for the villagers that I was chosen – I, who was raised by the Night Mother and who carries Sithis' deadly touch wherever I go. I, who brings bloodshed to those otherwise unstained despite my best intentions.

Across the fire Baurus shifted, his brow furrowed in thought.

"So let me get this straight," he said slowly. "You were told to work for the Blackwood Company to stop them from doing any more damage. You kept your cover by drinking hist. You blacked out while protecting the villagers, and killed them because you thought they were goblins." He paused, and, when I said nothing to deny his claim, continued. "Sara..." He gave a sigh. "What happened was worse than bad, but you were trying to do good. You thought you were saving them. I don't think that makes you a murderer."

I looked up at him, eyebrows raised as I stared.

"I killed children," I said, flabbergasted that he did not understand. "Innocents! In cold blood! Did you miss that part?" It was just like when I'd woken up at Modryn's. He'd tried to convince me it hadn't been my fault, too. How was it that fighting men did not understand the concept of murder?

"You were trying to protect them," Baurus reasoned. "The conditions were outside of your control. If anything the fault lies with your guild master, who sent you on a dangerous mission alone. If he hadn't, maybe you wouldn't have had to drink hist."

I snapped my mouth shut, looking away.

"It isn't Modryn's fault. Don't try to make it his," I said vehemently. "I made a choice. I chose the mission over the lives of those villagers."

Baurus shook his head at me, disbelieving.

"You're not serious, are you? You don't honestly think you chose your mission over their lives?"

I turned my gaze back to him, fierce.

"I didn't have to drink hist!" I argued, desperate, hurt, and angry. "I could have given my life then and there to stop them from their idiocy, or when I drank it I could have made some excuse about how sick I felt, or… something! Everyone knows only Argonians are immune to hist's effects. At worst I would have been expelled for failing my initiation, but at least I wouldn't have killed the villagers."

"And instead no one would have known the Blackwood Company was behind it, and more people could be paying for it now," Baurus said. He shook his head and the denial on my tongue quieted as I stared at him, stilled by his words. "I'm not saying that the price was worth it," he continued. "I don't like seeing you hurt like this, and those villagers shouldn't have had to die. But since they did, doesn't it do their memory more justice to look at what their sacrifice made happen instead of what it was?" He paused for a moment. "Because you went back and destroyed the hist tree, didn't you? I remember hearing about that. It was you, wasn't it?"

I gave a slight nod. "Yes," I said quietly, but I was distracted, distant. Was it true? Was there really some good to what had happened, some other purpose? Was I really… not so much to blame?

"Is this whole mess the reason you think you're not good enough for the Blades?" Baurus asked quietly. I paused in my thoughts, caught off guard by his question.

"And if it is?" I replied, too weary to argue with him any longer.

"Then you need to let it go. You're a good person, Sara. Stop punishing yourself so much for this."

Angry sorrow washed through me. He didn't understand. He didn't know this was the least of my crimes – the least of them. I was a murderer no matter what was said. Dozens had died at my hands, entire families, all for no reason other than their names had been spoken by an uncaring tongue, and with little to no regret or guilt on my part. To comfort me in my suffering, to suggest that I forgive myself and ignore the retribution of my victims, to make me believe for one instant that out of my evil something good could come, was... cruel. It cut to the bones of my soul like a knife.

"You don't know. You can't understand," I said, my voice thick with grief.

"I can't, can I?" he replied. "Then what about Kvatch, Sara? What about all those people who died because of my mistake?"

I raised my eyes to his.

"You don't honestly blame yourself for Kvatch," I said. He didn't reply and turned his face away. My expression became incredulous. "Baurus, Kvatch was not your fault," I said, trying to convince him. "We had no way of knowing the daedra were going to attack there. And as far as we know only Jauffre was aware of Martin's existence! How could you have prepared?"

He was quiet a moment. When he next spoke, his voice was low and broken.

"I let him die, Sara. I failed Emperor Uriel. I failed the empire. This Oblivion crisis wouldn't even be happening if I had done better."

I rose and moved to his side, hesitatingly placing a hand on his arm as I tried to catch his gaze.

"Please tell me you don't believe that."

"Shouldn't I?" He looked at me. "You seem pretty sure you're to blame for what happened at Water's Edge. How is what happened at Kvatch any different?"

"It's…" I glanced away while I searched for the words. "I didn't have trained assassins coming after what I was trying to protect," I said. "I made a conscious choice to do something I knew was dangerous. You didn't. You were just doing your duty in conditions that were against you."

"Isn't that what you were doing, too?"

I opened my mouth to reply, and then shut it. Maybe part of what he said was true, that I was working in conditions that were against me, but I didn't feel it excused my poor judgement. My skills lay in subterfuge, infiltration, and assassination. If there was one thing that mission had taught me, it was that skills shouldn't be abandoned simply because they were developed through illegal means. I could have ignored Modryn's orders and sneaked in and found the hist tree on my own. It would have been difficult – I had been trying so hard to be the woman Modryn wanted me to be; I had wanted to forget, again, my former life and grasp the future he'd held out – but it might have saved lives. And even if I had chosen to use the skills I'd so painstakingly perfected, I hadn't needed to contend with fate; my defeat had not been foretold by the gods, the stars, or the grieving voice of man knowing he was to die.

"It might be true that the conditions were against me," I said slowly, "but they were not as slanted against my mission as they were against yours." I paused, glancing down to think on what I was about to reveal before meeting his gaze again. "Emperor Uriel knew he was going to die, Baurus. He knew this invasion was to happen."

The Blade stared at me for moment.

"He… he knew? He knew he was going to die?" His expression hardened, and he grasped me roughly by the arm. "How do you know this?" he asked. "What makes you think I believe you?"

"What makes you believe anything I say?" I asked gently. He held my gaze for a moment longer and then released my arm, turning away. When he didn't say or do anything further, I continued. "Do you remember how we stopped in the ruins to give him a chance to rest?" I asked. "You may recall that he and I spoke. He told me he knew he was going to die, that the stars and his dreams had ordained it. When I asked about the rest of us, he said that his stars were not ours, and that, somehow, he believed Akatosh's power could still defeat the coming darkness. He believed that I had been put in that cell for a reason, that everything that had led to that moment in the ruins was for a reason."

Baurus remained silent. When he spoke, it was with a rough, cracked voice.

"Why did he lead us with him if he knew he was going to die? There were so many of us – Hepharion, Vasidius, Glenroy, Renault – they all died to protect him." He put his hands to his head, pressing in at the temples as if to expel whatever dark thoughts lingered there. "If he knew, why did he waste our lives?"

I put a hand on the Redguard's back, my face sympathetic.

"I don't think he knew until that moment," I said kindly. "He was surprised to see me in the cell. Surprised, grieved, and relieved to discover I was who I was. I think if he had known from the start, he would have tried to leave you behind."

"Not that we would have let him," Baurus said with a laugh that was nigh a sob.

"Probably not," I agreed gently, and I paused as I thought about the words I was about to speak. "For… what it's worth, I'm glad you were there."

He raised his eyes to mine then, and I saw in their dark depths all the pain and sorrow he had been carrying for the last fortnight, pain and sorrow and guilt at his failure to defeat fate, to protect and serve as he had sworn. How had I been so blind as not to see it?

"Thank you," he said roughly, and then he returned his gaze to the flames. I nodded sympathetically and retrieved my hand from his back, preparing to rise.

"Could we… Could we stay like this a little longer?" he asked, and I stared at him, faintly surprised. A wan smile graced my lips as I looked on him fondly.

"As you wish," I replied affectionately, settling down properly once more. "But only if I'm allowed to poke and prod you and make sure you're healed to my satisfaction."

He nodded, a half grin cracking the grief of his face.

"I owe you my life and more now," he replied. "I'm yours to do whatever you want with."

"And that," I said with a growing smile, "is a response I usually get from men."

I think it was safe to say Baurus broke the record for deepest blush in the history of Tamriel.

I was just happy to see him smile.