What in Divines' name is she thinking? Faendal thought, pacing back and forth in the circular tomb. Several times he nearly opened the door to head after them, but caught himself at the last moment.
They were a team, always watching each others' backs. They were companions. More than that, they were friends.
Sure, Joi hadn't gone alone, she had Mercer Frey with her. Faendal had no doubt that the Guild Master would be more than capable of protecting her; he had proven his skills earlier when a troll had attacked them, but even then, Faendal didn't trust him. Or anyone else in the Guild for that matter, they were always getting Joi into trouble. Goldenglow had nearly killed both of them!
Even with all of her experience, the Bosmer couldn't help but think the Dragonborn had gotten herself into more than she could handle.
Which is exactly the reason I should be at her side! he thought heatedly.
Even though he thought Joi was wrong, Faendal knew he would listen to her. She had told him to stay put, so he would . . . but the waiting, Divines above, the waiting was killing him! He would scout out Karliah's camp.
No harm in that, right?
He sat in the shelter, staring into the flames, much like Joi liked to do on the rare occasion they weren't on some farfetched quest. Faendal liked to watch the Dunmer think; unlike most women he knew, even Camilla, Joi's mind was as sharp as her blade.
Faendal's hand drifted to the Axe, resting on its hilt. As a personal gift from Jarl Balgruuf when Joi was made Thane, the Axe of Whiterun was nearly priceless, it also happened to be Joi's favorite war axe. But against a draugr—and there would be plenty in these Nordic ruins—Dawnbreaker would be of much more help. Sighing, Faendal rested his head on his hands.
He sent a silent prayer to any gods who were listening—Talos or otherwise, he didn't care anymore.
It was going to be a long night . . .