Banus and Lucien were supposed to have a chat in this chapter, but it would've exceeded the designated wordcount, so it'll have to wait for another time.
Unfortunately Enthralled – chapter sixteen
Banus blinks; "Who's dead?"
"Marcia. The Cheydinhal Speaker," Uvani repeats, "Just got word from the Listener this morning. Her Silencer Lucien is due to take her place, and I want you to come along."
"Do Silencers usually go to meetings like this?"
"Well...no," the elder admits, recalling his own initiation as Speaker – unless they were simply out of sight, he doesn't remember any Silencers being there, "But it's important that you see what goes on. You'll be Speaker one day, after all."
Banus is silent. Uvani has of course explained the precise purpose of a Silencer – a Speaker's personal assassin and eventually successor. When I retire, Uvani had said, but there's always that other reason that neither of them want to discuss, or even think about. Banus certainly doesn't want to think about it.
"I don't have to go, do I?" he says, as though being unprepared for succession would somehow erase the possibility of it ever happening, "You could always explain it to me another time."
"No," Uvani says firmly, "I wasn't prepared when I had to take charge of the sanctuary, and if Arquen hadn't taught me I'd still be fumbling blindly. I won't make the same mistake as the previous Speaker."
"But-" Banus tries again, "If you're going to retire then you'll still be able to show me what to do, right?"
"If I'm still working for the Brotherhood then it isn't retirement, is it? I'll just end up running the sanctuary for you."
Neither of them bring up the real reason behind all this, the reason Uvani himself was so abruptly promoted to Speaker. Anyone involved in something as violent and criminal as the Dark Brotherhood should expect a short lifespan, even those of the Black Hand, who aren't on the front lines. Uvani had assured him: I have no intention of dying. But then the last Leyawiin Speaker certainly didn't intend on it either. He knows better, but a part of him is convinced that if Uvani ever found himself at the steel of a dozen Legion soldiers, he'd fight a little harder if he knew Banus wasn't ready to take his place.
Evidently Uvani knows exactly what the other is thinking, because he next says: "Banus, I'm not going to die."
"There's always the risk, though."
"I can electrocute people by touching them. I'm not going to die," he reaffirms stubbornly, "And if you'll remember, you're in the same career as me. That means there's as much chance of you being killed as well. If you wanted safety and security, you shouldn't have joined the Dark Brotherhood."
He doesn't have a reply to that. He's familiar with Uvani's brusque, harsh nature, and he doesn't take as much offence to his words, but even so, there's a pang of hurt. One clearly written across his face since Alval recognises it, and hastens to add: "Why do you think I taught you those drain spells? And encouraged you to practise Alchemy? Out of the two of us, it's yourself you should be worried about!" he takes a breath to calm himself, "I want you to be prepared for the role of Speaker. There's no use in me living to old age and retiring only to see you die because I didn't teach you well enough."
He's touched by the sentiment, but not yet dissuaded from his cause. Another pause before he tries one last time: "...We could leave it all behind, you know. Go into some other business, just the two of us. We don't have to be assassins."
Uvani snorts, "Don't be ridiculous. You can't just outright leave the Brotherhood. You either stay on as a contact – in which case, we'd both be roped into assassination again – or you're killed to ensure you won't betray family secrets. Even when I retire, I'll be expected to provide a supply of potions, or Destruction training, something like that."
Banus has no choice but to give up. "It just...never really hit me until now. One day you might not be there anymore, and I'll have to take your place. I'm not sure if I want to."
The other mer touches his face, albeit hesitantly, still reluctant to initiate physical contact even after all this time. "I'm much older than you, you know. Even if we both lived out entirely peaceful lives, I'd die before you did."
He shivers, "Don't say things like that..."
Alval doesn't apologise, but neither does he offer an abrupt Deal with it answer as he would to anyone else. He strokes his thumb across Banus' dark-skinned cheek and tells him, "Come on. We'll be late for the Listener's meeting."
When he inclines his head, he's essentially submitting to the duty of one day taking Uvani's place. Even when his heart demands otherwise.
"Speaker J'Ghasta, Bruma sanctuary."
"Speaker Arquen, Kvatch sanctuary."
"Speaker Uvani, Leyawiin sanctuary."
The newcomer laces his fingers together and purrs from within the folds of his hooded robes: "Speaker Lucien, Cheydinhal sanctuary."
Banus watches from across the room, given the Listener's table is far too small for any more than the five currently seated. It isn't, he admits, quite as daunting as he had expected it to be. Mostly due to the distinct lack of foreboding scenery, macabre rituals and other such things one would expect to find at a Black Hand meeting. He could almost forget that everyone in the room, especially the Listener, is a seasoned killer.
"Lucien Lachance, that's a nice name. Did you make it up yourself?" Ungolim says, dispelling whatever dramatic tension there had been in the room. But it's still strangely cold for a reason Banus can't fathom.
"My own design, yes. Though I'm Breton on my mother's side."
"Huh. You look and sound like an Imperial to me," is Ungolim's dismissive reply, "It's a very feminine name, Lucien Lachance. Are you a particularly feminine man?"
"Certainly. I find it beneficial to have female qualities," contrary to being offended, which seems to make the Listener all the more keen to tease, the newcomer remains nonchalant and perhaps even a little teasing himself, "Perhaps I should list my favourite flowers? I like Nightshade in particular, it makes wondrous poisons."
"Well. I rather like you," Ungolim looks pleased, having found someone so far immune to being wound up, "You can cut that frost spell out while you're here, though, it's making my toes numb."
"As you wish, Listener," and the room becomes abruptly warmer. "Though might I request – Speaker Uvani, is it? - stops using his fire spell. While I appreciate having my chair warmed, it is likely to leave scorch marks on the floor."
Banus glances, and sure enough sees curls of steam rising from beneath Lachance's chair. It's not enough to burn, but the ride back to Cheydinhal will likely be more than a little uncomfortable. He catches Uvani's eye and suppresses a grin.
"Now now, play nice, Alval," the Listener berates. Uvani gives a snort, but complies.
The meeting goes on. The details of Speaker Marcia's death are revealed – drowned, forcibly held down, the lack of any attempt to stage it as an accident suggests that the traitor is responsible, and intends it as a message to the Black Hand. Lucien names his new Silencer and everyone agrees on a test for her. They make it sound like a petty chore, but Banus remembers his own trial and shivers.
Uvani comes up to him when everything is finished; "Did you pay attention?"
Even though Banus has known him for almost a year now, and he can finally call him a friend, there's still something decidedly teacher-like about Uvani, something that makes him straighten up and answer curtly, "Yes Speaker."
Uvani quizzes him on a few topics anyway. He answers as best as he can but falters on a few, because if he's to be entirely honest with himself, he wasn't paying attention to the meeting. Too busy gazing at Alval, his posture so impeccable and authoritative, as though it really were a grand and ritualistic Black Hand meeting and not the rather more mundane reality of five people crowded around a kitchen table. And even now when stood together, Banus can see that he's actually surpassed Uvani height-wise, and yet the older Dunmer seems to tower over him, over everyone in the world like a fire-haired deity and just as magnificent-
"-Banus. Banus! Pay attention!" and he abruptly snaps from his runaway thoughts, only just registering that he stopped listening and started staring, and now Uvani looks annoyed, "How are you to succeed me if you drift off all the time?"
The reminder of that swiftly chases what's left of his reverie away; "...Sorry Uva- Speaker."
"That's not a terribly nice way to treat your partner, Alval."
Uvani visibly stiffens as the Listener approaches. Not for the first time, Banus looks at the little man in his green jacket and his cookie jar tucked under one arm, and has to swiftly remind himself that this is the respected and feared leader of the Dark Brotherhood. His incredulity isn't due to the fact that Ungolim is a Bosmer, but because he's the least threatening Bosmer Banus has ever come across, at least in appearance. In some ways, that makes him all the more frightening, because this is one of the Brotherhood's deadliest assassins, a man who has arranged the deaths of countless people, who makes his money from blood. And yet he can still give the impression of being utterly harmless.
"Surely, Listener," Uvani replies, "It would be less...nice of me to leave him completely unprepared for his duties?"
"You're teaching him terribly early on, though. You're not due to retire for a while yet... or do you not have enough faith in your survival abilities to see you through to old age?"
Uvani gives him a tight, thin-lipped smile, "One must always prepare for the worst, Listener."
"Well I should hope you don't die, you run the Leyawiin sanctuary very efficiently. Oh...poor Silencer, you don't like all this talk of your Speaker dying, do you?" this last bit, spoken in a sugary-sweet tone that aims more to annoy than reassure, is directed at Alor, "Yes, I can see the worry written all over your face. And a very pretty face it is too...very pretty, in fact. Now what would someone like you be doing with someone like Alval?"
He blinks, "Excuse me?"
And next to him, Uvani scowls, "Listener, I'm right here."
"I know you are Alval, I can feel that glare of yours from a mile away," even as he says this, Ungolim is staring intently at Banus, "Be a dear and answer the question. What is it you see in him?"
When he realises that the words are addressed at him, Banus glances over at Uvani for any hint as to how he should reply. The man is feigning disinterest, but there's a curiosity in his eyes, and even a hint of worry. So even his Speaker isn't sure why their relationship exists...it makes his next words all the more important, then, but what to say? What does he see in Uvani?
He answers honestly: "Everything."
Ungolim actually looks bewildered, "Oh? That's..." it quickly dissolves into a dreamy smile; Banus wonders how much of it is genuine, "So romantic. I adore a good love story. Try to hold onto this one Alval, he's a keeper."
Uvani gives him a glance – just a split-second, there and gone as quickly as a blink – of completely unguarded tenderness. And then it's vanished, as the Dunmer replies to Ungolim with his usual restrained, formal tone: "Of course, Listener."
As the Wood Elf wonders off to bother other people, Uvani and Banus take their leave. They have no horse, what with the elder insisting it as a waste of money, and so they begin the southwards walk back to rainy Leyawiin, following the grey storm clouds.
"...That was a good answer you gave the Listener," Uvani says at last, rippling the silence between them, "If you hadn't come up with anything he'd have teased you constantly. But I think you actually impressed him."
"I only told the truth," Banus murmurs.
Alval coughs and glances away; "Yes, well...good answer all the same," he mutters, embarrassed. Anyone else might take the lack of an equally intimate response to heart, but Banus knows better. The other elf was never particularly comfortable around romance, especially in its spoken form. Graciously, he changes the subject: "Did you really use a fire spell on the new Speaker's chair?"
"Who, Lachance?" the elder gives a disdainful tut, "He was using a frost spell on the whole room. I just gave him a taste of his own medicine, served him right."
"Why would he use a frost spell?"
"Dramatic effect. Showing off. Whatever you want to call it," he waves a dismissive hand, "I'd have let up if he stopped making the room so damn cold, but he had to go whining to the Listener instead. He wasn't even singed."
"You don't like him, I take it?"
"He's too theatrical. And he thinks he's more important than he actually is. Imperials are always a bit like that, mind," and in a low grumble, he adds: "Besides. He kept looking over at you. I was getting annoyed."
Alor raises his eyebrows, "He was what? Why?"
"How should I know? Anyway, I didn't like it," the snappiness to Alval's tone demands an end to the conversation, and they carry the weight of the silence between them.
"...You really do mean everything to me, you know," Banus says again quietly.
"I know," is the reply. And yet he can't help but think Uvani doesn't sound entirely convinced.