He saw them again a few weeks later. The Bee and Barb was buzzing with people - someone said there'd been a Thalmor attack in the ratway - the Thalmor he thought with disgust, couldn't keep their pointy noses out of anything these days it seemed. Amidst the chaos, Urzul gra-Jal and the big hairy Nord… Farkas? staggered into the bar.

It was the Nord who was injured this time. Urzul caught his eye straight away and he lifted an eyebrow. She nodded and waved him over to them.

"We need your help again, mage," she said softly as he approached. "Farkas can't make the stairs into the temple. Can you heal him enough to get him there?"

Marcurio nodded.

"Should have got Vilkas to go with you," the big man muttered as Marcurio helped the Orc sit him at a bench. Keerava gave them a disapproving look, but Marcurio was hardly going to haul the poor bastard up the stairs to a room when his life might be in the balance.

"Vilkas needs to look after the companions," Urzul said harshly. "We have work."

"You have work," Farkas said. "Sss, mage can you hurry?"

There was a massive scorch mark across the front of his armour - ending in a melted section that made Marcurio wince - if the molten metal had gotten onto his skin it would be tricky and painful to get it out again and there was always the danger of blood poisoning…

He had a moment to wish he'd paid more attention in Collette's classes, even though she'd been mindnumbingly dull, before the big man tugged at his tunic.

"There's leather under the plate, mage," Farkas said, obviously understanding, and Marcurio sighed in relief. It wasn't the worst of the injuries, then. One of his arms was broken, probably from being hurled against a wall and he was limping, although that could just have been exhaustion.

"You said you were happy to come with me," the Orc's voice was flat. "But perhaps you're right and you should go back."

"He's not going anywhere but here for a while, Harbinger, I'm sorry to say," Marcurio said.

The Orc looked at him, eyes narrowing. "You can't heal him?"

"I can heal him, of course I can, but he's going to be weak for a few weeks at least…"

She let out a low growl and stood. "Farkas this can't wait. You know that."

"You should not go alone, Urzul."

Marcurio looked from one to the other of them.

"It's not Companion business," she said wearily.

"You are our Harbinger."

"I shouldn't be. Vilkas. Or Aela. Or you. Go back."

"If you command it."

A slight frown formed on her brow. "I do."

Marcurio let his magic fade then nodded at Urzul. "Best to take him to the temple," he said. "My specialty isn't healing - he'll get better attention there." She nodded and shifted on the bench, propping up the man under his armpit. He was only slightly taller than her, Marcurio realised. He felt like a wood elf next to them, and he was no slouch.

He did his best to help them up the stairs to the temple, where Dinya Balu was sufficiently efficient to get Farkas to a bed. Urzul busied herself with fishing in her pack, pulling out a coin purse and putting it on the dresser before pulling another and tossing it towards Marcurio.

"Are you really a mercenary?" she said. "Not just a healer?"

He nodded. "Absolutely," he said, opening the pouch and raising an eyebrow. "Best destruction mage this side of Whiterun."

She glanced at Farkas, who gave a short nod.

"You're hired," she said. "Get your things. We leaving for Riverwood now."

He swallowed. "Uh… it's the middle of the night…"

"I don't have the time, mage. What's your name?"

"Marcurio." He was slightly hurt that she didn't remember. But only slightly. She was very busy after all.

"Please hurry. I'll wait. Outside the inn."

He turned on his heel and made for his room. If the weight of the coinpurse in his hand was any indication, the work she did - whatever it was, paid well and he could do with getting out from under Brynjolf's eye for a while.

He packed his things, a few scrolls and potions, his dagger, some trail rations, spare clothes, then made his way outside. Urzul was standing looking down into the ratway, face inscrutable.

His experience with Orcs was negligible. Urag in the Arcaneum had the same attitude towards books he imagined most orcs had towards their weapons, and the same attitude towards students as they did towards enemies. There was an orc mercenary who occasionally got drunk in the Bee and Barb and shouted at people that they were "milk fed" and "weak", but Urzul…

He couldn't fathom her.

"So," he said. "Why are we going to Riverwood?"

"I need to speak to a Blade about a dragon," she replied, not bothering to look at him as she started walking towards the Riften gate.

He hurried after her, her long legs taking strides that made it uncomfortable for him to walk at his normal pace. A blade. A blade. By the nine, this woman was a walking contradiction.

"Why are you so interested in dragons? Is it because they attacked you?"

"No."

"Are we likely to be attacked by them on a regular basis?"

"Yes."

He sucked at his teeth. Ice spells. And lightning. He was good at lightning. "You're paying me to help you," he pointed out. "It might be a good idea to tell me everything."

"I…" she shook her head and slowed her pace a little. "Forgive me. Farkas was with me when this started, I forget that you don't know."

"Don't know what?"

She looked at him. "That I'm dragonborn," she said.

He laughed. "Oh ha. Very funny."

She stopped. It was dark, overcast, and impossible to tell her expression, but the tension in the air made it pretty easy to guess. Then she turned away from him, took in a deep breath, and shouted….

"Fus ro dah!"

The grass and bushes in front of them were pushed flat. His ears tried their best to force their way into his skull and his bones throbbed. As the echoes died away, and his vision cleared, Urzul started walking again. She didn't speak. He supposed she'd already said everything she needed to.

"Right," he muttered, then started after her. "Dragonborn."