A/N: Thanks to Ozymandeos and krikanalo for your reviews on the last chapter! The Helseth issue is a thorny problem that I somewhat address in this chapter but then, maybe things will change again. A lot can happen in a Mournhold day...
Chapter 6: The Warning
"This is Ivulen Irano's handwriting on the note you found. He notes the watches when Dralen, Aren, and him are the only guards in the Throne Room. I believe I'll change the watch schedules to prevent that. And I'll need to keep a close eye on all three. Very shrewd work, Llovesi–"
"It was all Julan, actually."
Tienius Delitian didn't break his stride. "Very shrewd work, Julan. King Helseth will hear what an asset both of you are. Now I need your help finding evidence of conspiracy against King Helseth among the Hlaalu nobles..."
In bed that night, Llovesi tossed and turned beneath the sheets, before lying poker-straight, staring up at the plain stone ceiling. It was no use. She slipped out of bed so not to wake Julan, and padded across the cool floor to the window.
She undid the latch slowly, then pushed the window open and breathed in the night air. Below her, the street was nearly empty. But it wasn't late, and was still a pleasant Sun's Height evening. Were the people of Mournhold acting more warily, or was she just imagining it?
Llovesi sighed and sunk onto her elbows on the sill. All those scenes of happy families, a vibrant shopping district–Mournhold in the summer had pulled the cloth over her eyes. It had seduced her at the beginning, despite herself and what she had been feeling, and hidden its worst faults. Now, she was caught in its midst, a dartwing in the centre of the spider's web.
Thoughts of the Dark Brotherhood filled her mind. A Dunmer woman, desperately clawing at an arrow in her throat as her eyes bulged. A man, falling to his knees as his throat spilled blood upon the ground. These images, and more, swum before her sleep-deprived eyes.
Why did I kill them? They weren't the ones who killed Mashti. They were innocent. No, they weren't innocent. They were assassins. But did that mean I had the right to kill them? Now, because of my impulsiveness, we're stuck here. And their souls will haunt me from Oblivion... as do the ones from the times I killed rashly before. Back in Vvardenfell, and Cyrodiil...
"Can't sleep?"
Julan had stirred behind her, the sheets falling to his waist as he sat up.
"No. You too?"
He kicked the sheets off and came to join her by the window. "No. Hardly surprising, is it? This, what we've been asked to do now, it's sick. That poor woman... If I was her I'd want revenge for my husband's death."
"But what can we do?" Llovesi whispered into the night. "We have no power here."
"We could run..."
Llovesi spun round so her back was to the window, and looked into Julan's eyes.
"And how would far we get, do you think? I agree with you, I really do, but this isn't some cave with some rogue wizards. We thought about running before and decided against it, because if we had to fight Helseth's guard, we'd be on the wrong side of the law. He'd make it so we were on the wrong side of the law."
"He'll pay for this. I don't know how, but I'll make him pay. Everything he's done..."
Llovesi squeezed Julan's arms, and turned back to watch the silent street below.
He would pay. But how?
She'd come to realise that she wouldn't kill him.
Couldn't.
Because then she would be just like him.
Llethan Manor was found only a few streets away from the tavern, in a spacious square with many other impressive looking buildings, all with arch-shaped stained-glass windows and tall sloping roofs. A few flowers were wilting in a bouquet by the doorstep.
Llovesi sighed, and stepped forward to knock on the door.
A Bosmer woman opened it, her shoulder length hair brushing briskly against the pauldrons of her Bonemold armour as she did so.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I've come to pay my respects to Ser Ravani Llethan," Llovesi said.
The Bosmer looked her up and down carefully. "Very well," she said. "I'll show you through."
She held the door open for Llovesi, who bowed her head and stepped respectfully into the manor. She felt Julan slip in behind her, invisible.
Ravani Llethan seemed encumbered by weariness as she sat at her desk reading. She placed the letter down and turned to face Llovesi as she entered the room. She was just a frail old woman in a faded robe, her hair as unkempt as the room she inhabited.
"Please," she said. "Leave me alone with my grief."
"I'm Llovesi, serjo. The Nerevarine. I've come to pay my respects and offer my condolences."
The woman got to her feet a little unsteadily, and made her way across the room to Llovesi, before grasping her hands.
"Bless your honourable soul. Few enough have come to pay their respects, let alone strangers such as you. People forget their friends when the wind changes."
"And the wind has changed, hasn't it, serjo?" Llovesi asked gently. She could feel, more than see, Julan making his way across the room to the desk.
Ravani's face suddenly creased as she burst into angry sobs.
"They murdered him. Helseth and his spiders. Everyone knows, and no one lifts a finger. Imperial justice! Hah! I spit on Imperial justice! They killed my husband, and now that wicked man is king. I curse Helseth, and all his kin! May they die tomorrow, weeping, watching their children die today! Everyone knows. It's there in print, for everyone to see, in 'The Common Tongue'. It says Helseth poisoned hundreds of people when he was in the West. If Helseth was a wicked murderer before, why not now?"
The letter Ravani had been reading on the desk floated briefly into the air before disappearing. A few subtle white sparks told Llovesi that Julan was gone.
"Ravani," she said quickly and sincerely, "if you'll permit me to call you that. I can promise that I will get to the bottom of your husband's death, and Helseth shall get what he deserves."
Ravani seemed to manage a faint smile as she wiped tears from her cheeks.
"Bless you. May fortune smile on your blade. There are those among my husband's friends who will not rest until justice is done. I shall mention your name to them."
This caught Llovesi's attention, but she didn't have the heart to pry any further. Julan had taken the letter; that meant they were done disturbing this woman's peace. She politely said her farewells, then left to join Julan at the Winged Guar.
He was waiting at a table in the near-empty bar-room; nervously drumming his fingers while the Khajiit barman wiped down tankards behind the bar. Two matzes sat on the table in front of Julan, along with the letter.
Llovesi grabbed one, glad for the cool liquid. The day was starting to become even more stifling than the last, and the crowds of people who jostled for a look at her in the streets had made the walk over become even more arduous. She wished her magicka was more reliable, and not for the last time.
"Just read it," Julan said, as Llovesi finished gulping her drink down.
She took the letter.
Forven,
I cannot agree. I am a merchant, and have no skill at arms. You are a noble, and in your prime were proven on practice and tournament grounds–though, in truth, you have never fought a duel, and have few gifts as a liar. No one can doubt Hloggar the Bloody's aptitude and enthusiasm for mayhem, but he is not a subtle man, more suited for a brawl or battlefield than an assassin's role.
And we cannot trust the Dark Brotherhood. Helseth owns them. They promise discretion, but their promises are worthless.
I am afraid we must approach the Morag Tong. I agree with you. They will probably refuse. But at least they can be trusted to be discreet.
If, in the end, we are forced to choose among ourselves, I fear it must be you. And we will have to wrack our brains for some plausible pretext that will get you into Helseth's presence.
I am disappointed, though not surprised, at the lack of public outcry over Athyn's murder. The popular sentiment seems to be to avoid personal risk and accept Helseth. It's short-sighted, but understandable. I have noted, however, that the writer of 'The Common Tongue' is sympathetic to our cause, clever and eloquent. He may be able to sway opinion. We should try to identify this fellow and try to bring him into our counsels.
Your faithful servant, Bedal Alen
The name jumped out at her like a slap in the face. Bedal Alen. The bookseller's friend. He was involved in a plot to kill the king. She didn't recognise the other names, but it shocked her how such a normal man could be the author of such a letter. How people had been driven to such extremes. Or maybe he wasn't the man he appeared; maybe he really was a House Hlaalu schemer. But the other men too?... Forven was a Dunmer name, but Hloggar the Bloody? Well, If Yngling Half-Troll can be a councillor... she reminded herself.
Julan snapped her from her reverie.
"What do you reckon our next job will be to put a bump on the writer of 'The Common Tongue'?" he asked, only half-sarcastically.
"I suppose we'd better go and find out," Llovesi said glumly, slipping the letter into her satchel.
"Unfortunate for these men though," Julan said, as they stood to go. "Unfortunate that we're powerless to help them, I mean. Gah, I hate this!"
Tienius Delitian was on duty alone in the Throne Room. Llovesi entered apprehensively, but with determination. She was almost disappointed to see that the plush, upholstered throne itself was empty.
The guard captain seemed to have caught her look.
"When the King wishes to hold audience with you, he will. I assure you," he said. "Now. What evidence have you managed to uncover?"
Llovesi handed him the letter silently.
He studied it at length, his face perfectly expressionless.
"This is very interesting. Forven Berano, Hloggar the Bloody, and Bedal Alen are obviously conspiring to assassinate King Helseth. I will immediately draw up writs for their execution–"
"Execution!?" Julan shouted.
Tienius Delitian gave him a long look.
"Yes, execution. As I informed you and your wife a few days ago, this is treason, punishable by death."
"You didn't kill us! Even though I had no intention to kill the King," Llovesi seethed.
"They, unlike you, cannot be of service to our King. And I'll remind you, yet again, to watch your tone. You will find Helseth far more beneficial as an ally than an enemy. Now," he continued, talking over Llovesi and Julan's sounds of protest, "There is one more matter that you will help us with. I want you to find the anonymous writer of 'The Common Tongue'."
"Hah," Julan said quietly. Tienius Delitian ignored him.
"The vague falsehoods in this broadsheet encourage the people to think King Helseth is a poisoner, and that he poisoned Athyn Llethan. First we want you to ask around and discover who is writing these lies. Then we want you to find him and persuade him to stop printing lies. The manner of the persuasion is left to your discretion. You will be discreet, of course. We don't want to appear to be threatening the time-honoured Imperial traditions of encouraging free speech."
"Of course," Llovesi said. "That's why you're going to control what goes into the papers."
"I'm glad you understand," Delitian said.
"But Helseth is a poisoner," Julan protested. "We've all read A Game at Dinner! Why does he care so much about this reputation now, for Azura's sake?"
"Consider, perhaps, that the reputation of a prince and the reputation of a king are two different things. A published book and a sheet of false accusations are different things as well. Of course, I take your point. King Helseth is a skilled alchemist and student of bodily processes. But it won't do to have people referring to our sovereign as a common poisoner, will it?"
He turned his back, the matter apparently closed.
Llovesi seethed for a while more in silence, then horror dawned upon her. She grabbed Julan's arm, and practically pulled him from the room.
"What is it?" he asked, once they were back in the corridor.
"Bedal Alen, Hloggar the Bloody and Forven whatever-his-name was–we have to warn them. We have to let them escape before, before–I'll not have their blood on our hands. We're not that powerless. We'll show him."
They set off at a run towards the Market District.
"I only hope Bedal Alen knows where the others can be found," Llovesi panted as they pushed past surprised shoppers in the crowd.
They burst into the bookseller's shop. A woman with dark cropped hair was talking to Bedal Alen by the counter. They both looked round in bewilderment at the sudden intrusion into the shop.
"S–Ser B–Bedal," Llovesi panted as she grasped her knees in an effort to get her breath back. "I–I have come to–to warn you."
"Nerevarine?" Bedal Alen asked, walking round the counter to her while Sanaso Sarothran looked on apprehensively. "Whatever is the matter?"
"Helseth has evidence of your conspiracy, and there has been a writ issued for your execution," Julan said quickly.
Bedal didn't ask them how they knew, didn't demand an explanation, or panic. Instead he nodded, simply and sadly.
"I feared this would happen. I thank you for warning me. I will absent myself from this city immediately. And I would die before I'd betray your generosity to me. Sanaso," he turned back to the shocked woman at the counter. "You have been more of a friend to me than most would in this damnable place. I will never forget your generosity either, and I will find a way to get word to you when I reach my family in Narsis."
"Wait, sera!" Llovesi said. "Hloggar the Bloody and the other man, Forven, I need to find them to warn them too!"
He looked astounded. "You would do that? I understand Hloggar lives in the west sewers, under Godsreach. Forven Berano lives in Godsreach as well, but I believe he takes an afternoon walk in the Temple gardens. As time is of the essence, perhaps you should look for him there. Now I must go."
He raised his hands as if to cast an incantation. Llovesi remembered one last thing, and hurriedly pulled the books from her bag.
"Your copies of The Real Barenziah," she said, and laid them upon the counter. "Would that the King was more like his mother."
Bedal smiled, and took them. "Would that he was," he whispered, and vanished.
Llovesi and Julan ran as if all the Royal Guards in the city were on their heels and, for all they knew, they could be. Had Delitian signed the warrants yet? Were guards already coming to take these men away? Llovesi's determination mainly stemmed more from the desire to save lives, but if she could do this, if she could get one over Helseth...
She and Julan split up, opting to cover more ground and save time. She ran to the Temple District, while Julan headed for Gosdreach and the sewers. The districts in Mournhold had never seemed bigger as Llovesi finally wheezed her way into the Temple gardens. It was the heat, she decided, and even though she and Julan had taken to leaving their armour in the Winged Guar to avoid the worst of it, she still wasn't used to this humidity that stuck her shirt to her back with every step. That, and maybe I'm out of practice with all this running around. I had thought my 'adventuring' days over before this week.
The Temple gardens were big, but they were also practically empty. It appeared that the people of Mournhold preferred to take a casual stroll away from the watchful eye of the Temple. That meant Llovesi didn't have to look far to see a Dunmer noble man who had to be Forven Berano.
Unfortunately, he also happened to be talking to a Royal Guard.
Llovesi's heart jumped into her mouth. Either they were just passing the time of day or she was too late. But she didn't have to be. What she needed was a distraction. Well, if the same thing could work twice in two days... She looked around, quickly forming a plan while she formed flames at her fingertips.
Julan couldn't decide what he hated more: Nords or sewers. The latter was disgusting, sure, but so was the former if you caught them on a bad day. Which was most days. Still, at least Nords didn't stick to your boots. But this particular Nord was proving hard to find. Which was the sewers' fault, so he decided that they were the most hated, for the moment.
He trudged grumpily through the filthy water, if you could even call it that. This was all Helseth's fault. Helseth and his power-hungry paranoia. Honestly, if he thought a book-seller, a noble and a Nord who liked to hang out in sewers posed a threat, then he was more dangerously insane than Sheogorath upon seeing someone else with a beard. But he was still going to get the guar-faced son of a scamp, if it was the last thing he did...
Julan's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps splashing through the sewage. He drew an arrow back, but the arrival of the creature nearly made him drop it in shock.
It was short and hulking, a scamp-sized brute with thick, green skin and short pointed ears. Fangs protruded from its elongated jaw, but it was also carrying a dagger and makeshift shield. Julan got over his shock, and let the arrow fly. It caught the creature in the shoulder, but it kept coming at him, grunting and jabbering, its yellow eyes narrowed.
Suddenly, more of the creatures appeared, jumping up from the water and launching themselves over barrels. Julan loosed another arrow and the first creature fell, but another one flew at him, knocking him down into the muck.
He kicked it off, but not before it had got in a good swipe at his face with its long claws. Julan back-pedalled; dropping his bow and healing himself with one hand, while in the other hand he prepared a powerful summoning spell.
There was a shower of white sparks to his right, and the Golden Saint walked calmly into existence, before drawing her sword and decapitating one of the approaching beasts just as serenely. Julan sighed in relief, before drawing his own sword and joining in the battle. He had been practising the theory of the spell for a while, but hadn't wanted to debut it in front of Llovesi, just in case something went wrong and he embarrassed himself. But the Saint was making quick work of the strange creatures. When the last one was defeated, she turned her impassive face to Julan, and he dismissed her with another spell.
He sighed irritably as he looked at the corpses around him. He still hadn't found Hloggar the Bloody, and now he was covered in... well, surely somewhere Namira was smiling.
Then from behind him came a great thudding sound.
He barely had a moment to turn before the creature was upon him, and everything went dark.
All it took was a snap of her wrist and the dry leaves of the tree went up in flames. Then Llovesi ran, as hard as she could, as if she were running for her life, although she was running for someone else's, directly at the guard talking with the noble.
"S–sera!" she gasped. "A fire! Over there!"
Both men looked round in surprise, seeing the great orange flames spread to the grass and blacken the flowers. The guard swore and readied a frost spell in his hands.
"Please stay here, serjo," he shot to the noble as he ran in the direction of the flames. "Our business is not concluded."
Llovesi didn't wait, tackling the nobleman behind a bush, firmly covering his mouth with her hand.
"Listen carefully," she whispered, "because I do not know how much time I've bought us. Are you Forven Berano?"
The man's eyes turned from shocked to angry, and he began making indignant noises beneath her hand, but he nodded.
"Then I've just saved your life."
The noises stopped.
"Helseth knows. He has issued a warrant on your life. Get out of this city while you still can."
The eyes turned from angry to afraid. She released him and he spluttered, pulling himself to his feet and an amulet from inside his rich shirt.
"Oh, Gods, thank you!" he gasped, and she was surprised to hear a Cyrodiilic accent, much like her own used to be. It seemed out of place with the Mournhold fashions he wore.
"Blessings of the Nine, and Almsivi, and anything else you like!" Forven continued to gasp. "Thank Gods I have this recall amulet. I'll be gone instantly–and I assure you, I will never betray your mercy."
He vanished, and Llovesi picked herself up and darted away, knowing that one very unhappy Royal Guard would soon be returning.
Julan woke to see a bushy blond beard and a pair of blue eyes staring him in the face. He jumped backwards and scrambled to his feet as fast as he could.
The owner of the eyes and beard, a blond Nord in steel armour watched him with a frown.
"Thought you were a goner there, pal. Them sludgepuppies can pack a mean punch."
The Nord glanced to one side, and Julan saw the creature that had attacked him, lying in a pool of its own blood. It looked like the unholy love child of a Nix-Hound and a Clannfear, green scales, thick fangs, several mean red eyes that now stared, unseeing, into space. A long tail like a slaughterfish's snaked out behind it.
"Sludgepuppy?" Julan asked hesitantly, bending down to retrieve his bow from the muck.
"Aye, or Durzog if you prefer. Even meaner than their goblin trainers. Beasty had you down, but I guess there's more to you than meets the eye, pal. Now, mind telling me what's bringing you down here?"
"Are you Hloggar the Bloody?"
The Nord narrowed his eyes and his hand floated to his mace. "How'd you be coming across that name?"
"I've come to tell you, Helseth–"
But on the name Helseth, the Nord roared furiously and swung his mace at Julan's head. Julan ducked and rolled to one side.
"Listen you blithering idiot!" he roared back from the ground as the Nord raised his mace for another blow. "I'm not here to fight you, I'm here to save you!"
Hloggar the Bloody lowered his mace slowly. "Huh?" he said. "I don't get it. Don't you want to fight?"
"No! Helseth has issued a warrant on your life. I'm here to tell you to get away."
Slow realisation dawned on the Nord's face, and he reached down a hand to Julan.
"I see–you're one of the good guys! Sure. I understand. So now I got to get lost. Fast, right?"
Julan gave him a withering look as he shook slime from his bow.
"Okay," Hloggar continued, almost happily. "Good thing I'm knowing which tunnels lead out of this city huh? So long, pal... and thanks."
He took off at a run, leaving Julan to roll his eyes and recall back to the Palace courtyard, where Llovesi would hopefully be waiting to join him.
"So you did it?" Llovesi asked.
"I did. You?" She doesn't need to know the exact details, Julan thought.
"Yes." Llovesi jumped onto Julan and hugged him, ignoring the fact that he looked like he'd been swimming in the sewers. There was plenty of time for a bath later.
"We did it," she whispered again, ecstatically. Maybe the disappearance of the three men could still be spun to Helseth's advantage, but still there were now three men walking free, three men who wouldn't taste the bite of Helseth's poison.
It was only a small victory, but it mattered. And if they could find the anonymous writer of 'The Common Tongue', perhaps they could turn that situation to their advantage too. Then Helseth would realise that she wasn't a pawn, but the opposing player. An opponent to be reckoned with.