Chapter 5: Accepting Duty

It was late in the night, but Portia knew that going to bed was pointless. Arelius the night owl wanted to speak with her, and so a candle burned beside her bed while she kept a silent vigil. Sand ran through her hourglass, and tired, green eyes watched its course. Her fingers gently clasped a sleeping draught, and the more she considered drinking it, the more she wondered whether or not she would be endangered in her dreams. If she could see Mehrunes, why couldn't he see her? Just because he couldn't see her last time didn't mean that he wouldn't tonight. He had sensed her presence before, even if he had no idea who she was.

But you will go.

She smiled humorlessly and set the potion on the nightstand beside her bed. Yes, she would go, because ignoring her problems wouldn't solve them. For now, it seemed that perhaps she was safe, and if she could constantly be reaffirmed that Mehrunes was in oblivion, then she had nothing to fear in the city. It seemed a good deal, and perhaps there was more to be found, but Portia quickly put that thought out of mind. She was no longer a Blade. She didn't need to think like one; yet her instincts to investigate and act had never truly left her. After the accident, she had thought that her desire to be involved would fade. Damn it, but she'd been sure that it had until Arelius found her. Now she realized that the peace she'd found in stagnation had been a farce at best, and one maintained only through a fragile layer of distance from the rest of the world.

Thump.

She didn't even turn, for she knew who was knocking at the door.

"Come in," she invited, and she stood to greet her former leader. He was out of his armor, wearing only a tunic, britches, and boots, but he still managed to command attention in the half-light of the room.

"I saw the light beneath your door or else I would not have bothered you," he stated.

"Your wife gave me the impression that what you have to say is important," Portia replied. "I thought it best to wait for you." Like the good little Blade that I was. "Long night?"

"Blade business," he allowed, but gave no further details. Instead, he leveled brown eyes at her that were too official to appear sympathetic, but too human and knowing to be cold. "You have been letting yourself go since you left," he said, shutting the door behind him. "I knew that you'd gone to the harbor and found another job, even bought yourself a small shack, but I always thought that you'd come back once you had some time alone."

"I didn't want to come back."

"That's a lie," Arelius bluntly asserted. "And it's the first one that you've ever told me." He stepped closer, and Portia found herself irritated with herself for inwardly agreeing with him. "You had more drive than most of the people beneath me. You were less aggressive and took time to make decisions, but once they were made, you gave everything to completing your task. I watched your progress, Portia, and I was sorry to lose you. Given time, I thought you'd make a great captain, but part of that is understanding that people die on your watch. Everyone accepts the possibility of death."

"At the hands of the enemy," Portia clarified.

"Accidents happen, and it's time that you let go of yours."

"You still have use for me then," Portia commented, but she could find no heat to begrudge the man that. He was his job, and he made no apologies for it.

"There is always use for a person like yourself, Portia," Arelius stated. "You shouldn't be drifting. It's doing more harm to you than ever a mission did."

"You have something specific in mind."

"I need your assistance."

**************

1...2...

Tamil counted the number of shadowy figures that she saw disembarking the boat. This was strange indeed, and she didn't like it one bit. With her hawk-like eyes, she kept to the shadows and settled a hand on the hilt of her sword. A dark green cloak covered her leather armor, and a silencing spell kept her movements secret. Still, she was cautious beyond the usual, and for good reason. She'd been watching this boat for two days now, and only the crew had left its hold, but she knew that there were more people on that ship.

Lex also had his eyes on the crew, for they were unfamiliar to the harbor, and Arelius had asked his fellow captain to be on the lookout for trouble. Why? Well, that had to do with sensitive information coming from barely whispered rumors. Tamil might hate to admit it, but she had the Dark Brotherhood to thank for that, for they'd assassinated a nobleman whom the Blades had long suspected of Mythic Dawn sympathies. Now the man was dead, and it had given her an opportunity to root through his belongings. Among his holdings had been a letter confirming that the Mythic Dawn was trying to gain a stronger foothold in the capitol.

Her attention was diverted to the emergence of a third figure from the boat, who despite an invisibility spell, could be detected moving toward the city gates. Perhaps now was the time to investigate the ship, and she carefully moved across the stone walkway and down a few steps. The crew was out drinking, and the captain and a few men were in the main cabin. They wouldn't prove a problem if she was quiet.

Light feet tread across planks, and quick hands unlocked the hold. It was a quick descent, and then Tamil was in a narrow passage that she did not appreciate. It was a little tight for swinging a sword, and escaping a two-way assault would be difficult. Eyes narrowed in displeasure, she reached toward a door but froze with her hand against the wood. The hairs were rising on the back of her neck, and she turned to see who was behind her only to find herself alone. Of course, appearances could be deceiving. The feeling of being watched was uncomfortably nagging.

With a dagger unsheathed in case of a surprise attack, she moved into a small, private cabin, and found a large chest. It was time to see if the unknown figures had left behind any evidence of their allegiance, and even if they weren't with the Dawn, they were probably shifty undesirables anyway. And so Tamil worked with the ease of the professional snooper that she was, and it took only moments before the chest's lock clicked and opened. Then she was rooting through a stack of clothing and potions that seemed ordinary and harmless enough, but then her hands came across a thin scroll tucked into the folds of a red robe.

The Mythic Dawn wear red, she darkly thought, and a wave of disgust washed over her. They would disrupt the peace and stability of the empire—sell themselves to destruction for personal gain. They were pathetic, and she almost wished that they would return now so that she could slit a throat or two in vengeance for the emperor's murder. Cowards—to kill and run, hide while they waited for their lord to deliver them.

Again, the sensation of being watched plagued her, and Tamil froze, listening for the slightest noise only to hear nothing. She was a woman who trusted her intuition, and so knew that she had little time to spare. A few more seconds and then she would leave. The ship gently rocked, and the scroll in her hand unfurled.

Jackpot.

Dawn members had arrived here, and they were to remain hidden and await their master's call for assistance if he should desire it. What was Mehrunes planning for the city? Tamil's forehead furrowed in thought, and she tucked the scroll into her belt. With her mind occupied, she didn't notice that as she left the cabin, a thin shadow shifted behind her. She reached for the ladder, and a hand reached for her. When fingers tightened around her shoulder, instinct made her spin with her dagger already lashing outward. Blood fell, a scream tore the air, and feet pounded across the deck overhead. Tamil hoped that the approaching people were guards and not enemies...

******************

"There are other Blades," Portia pointed out, unsure of where Arelius was going with his vague comment about assistance. "And if this job is anything like the last one that you sent me on, I'd prefer to have no part in it." Arelius' stern face shifted ever so slightly, and she could tell that he was displeased with her. Shirking duty was perhaps the one trait that completely irritated him, sometimes to the point of expressing anger. She knew that he was about to use his lecturing tone on her.

"Enough, Portia," he said. "You would have done that job whether I blackmailed you into it or not, and don't act otherwise. You could never stop yourself from taking a task that you thought was important. Once I explained to you the horror that could result from failure, you would have accepted my proposal. It's not in you to surrender." And then she saw it, the extent of his disappointed at her decision to leave the Blades. It was there, in the lines of his face, and the steel edge to his voice. He had expected more from her, and that he wasn't voicing those exact words was a product only of his carefully controlled nature.

"I have never been able to forget his face," Portia said, feeling the urge to explain herself. She had never really talked about the accident since that night. "When he realized that he would die by my hand, his face was so confused—like he was asking me why. It wasn't suppose to be like that. A Blade shouldn't die at the hands of a friend." Gods, but Arelius understood her hesitancy to reenter her old life. And why the hell did he have to let her see his disappointment after all this time? Didn't he know how that stung?

"I don't want your pity," she told him. "I've had a lot of time to think about what happened...and I know that it wasn't my fault, but I need you to understand that I can never be that captain you envisioned. I learned my limitations that night, and I can't handle having the blood of someone whom I was supposed to protect on my hands. You...you weren't the only one disappointed that night."

"You can move beyond that," Arelius assured her. "You do not have to return in the capacity that bothers you." And his words sounded so good. Portia wanted to be active again. She yearned for the purpose that being a Blade had imparted, and this entire fiasco with the chaos sphere was actually making her more enlivened than she'd been in months. This was the opportunity that she'd been waiting for, and she'd only avoided it because she'd been too ashamed to go to Arelius on her own accord after her flight. Akatosh, but he was still the hand guiding her toward promise after all these years.

"Do you want to hear what I have to offer?" Arelius asked.

"Yes. You win."

**************

Tamil ducked beneath the wide arch of a longsword and nearly lost her footing in the process. Her attacker was partially camouflaged with a chameleon spell, and in the darkness of the night air, she was having difficulty escaping his thrusts and swings. The person was skilled, whoever he was, and he was not alone. Footsteps were running from the front cabin, and was that another person behind her? Where were the guards? She tried to keep the railing to her back so that she could not be encircled, but lunges were forcing her toward the ship's middle.

"Shit," she cursed. She was quickly being surrounded, and there was nowhere to go on such small a vessel. Perhaps...Yes, there was a little magicka left in her after all. The tips of her fingers glowed with energy, and then a small flame leapt from her palm. She aimed directly at a stack of crates.

"Stop her!" someone yelled. The world erupted in chaos as the deck burst into flames, the blaze's edge licking the mast, and the confusion of who was foe or friend mounted. Smoke blew into Tamil's face, and she coughed as she ran for the gangplank. She could make it. She'd made it out of tougher situations before, and though hands reached for her, she knocked the assailant into the inferno that had become the Golden Ram.

She was almost free from the deathtrap as the smoke cleared from her vision and gave her a view of the stone docks. She jumped over a wall of flames, her agile body easily clearing the flickering tips, but a second thump accompanied her landing. Who...?

"Ugh," she gasped, feeling a sharp sting in her abdomen. A hand instinctively went to the source of the pain, and warm blood soon coated her fingers as she probed her now opened skin. It wasn't a deep wound, she realized in relief. It was a gash that would not cost her life if she found help soon, but that was an afterthought to striking back at her opponent. He wasn't one of the crew members, but a tall, slender figure cloaked entirely in black, and his dagger shone with her blood. He raised the blade to strike again, but a vicious slice of own blade caught him across the back of the hand, causing him to drop his weapon with a hiss of surprised pain.

Tamil ran for life then, ignoring the sting of magic flying at her back as she left the glow of the burning ship behind her. The wound was sending the strangest shivers through her body, and she wondered if blood loss or shock was affecting her. One hand remained clasped to the painful cut while the other reached for the closest stone wall. She felt cold, lethargic, like her limbs were burdened.

Poison.

The sound of pursuit echoed in her foggy mind as her feet ran for the one safe place that stood out in her mind. She had to get her information to Arelius, and he would see to her wounds...if she could be saved by the time she reached him.

*************

"You will answer only to me," Arelius explained, and Portia was all ears. "No one will work directly with you. And you won't need to command anyone, because you won't hold rank. This is a sort of unofficial position, but I'm willing to overlook that and still give you information so long as you understand that I will hold you accountable to your vow of service." There was no need to say that, for Portia took these matters as seriously as he did, but she supposed that some formality was in order.

"What kind of work did you have in mind?" she asked.

"The Mythic Dawn is active in the city, even if they're weak, and there are certain nobles that I don't trust. They might wish to take advantage of the empty throne, and the Blades will not allow that. It's bad enough that we have Mehrunes to deal with, without having to watch our backs. You know the secret passages through the city and palace, so I'd like you to be the contact for people who are already my informants. It's as simple as that, and while I might need you for other various tasks, it really depends on what is required and when."

"What's my excuse for being in the palace?" Portia asked. "I'm no longer a guard."

"You're past and skill are known here, so I'd like you to take up the position of training a few aristocratic children in swordsmanship. No lies—they'd be pointless anyway since you'd be fairly easy to investigate. You really did leave active service after an accident, and you're finally returning after a break."

"You've given this a lot of thought," Portia said. "Tell me, did you ever plan to let me go peacefully? This whole oblivion thing is a nice excuse for you to rope me back in, isn't it?"

"I don't really need to answer that," Arelius said with a subtle smile. Perhaps that was where his wife had learned it from. "Do you have an answer for me?"

"I'll do it." And he gave her an approving look that she interpreted as, "That's my girl."

"Then report for your new job tomorrow morning. I'll make sure that you're expected."

"Arelius, come quickly!" Lucretia's shout jerked both Arelius and Portia out of their exchange. The door flew open to reveal his wife standing there in her nightgown, one hand clasping a candle that etched her worried expression into sharp relief. "This way," she ordered, and then she was rushing down the hallway. Portia followed, and her was presence forgotten as Lucretia and Arelius softly but urgently conversed ahead of her. "I don't think she's last long," Lucretia stated.

"Where is she?" Arelius asked. Portia was stunned by the scene that awaited her as the group rushed into the front foyer. There, laying in the doorway and propped against the wall, was a female Dunmer whose tattooed face was tightened in pain. A hand cradled her stomach, where her shirt and ruined leather armor were soaked with blood, and the liquid was beginning to trickle onto the floor.

"Get bandages!" Arelius ordered as he crouched beside the injured woman.

"Poison..." the Dunmer gasped, and Arelius' frown deepened.

"Lucretia," he said. "There is a small blue bottle in the chest beside our bed. Bring it to me." His wife scurried to do his bidding, and Portia watched in bewilderment as the Dunmer's attention turned toward her. There was recognition on the elf's part, and then the woman gasped as a tremor shot through her body.

"What happened?" Arelius asked, knowing that this might be his only shot at understanding the night's events.

"The Mythic Dawn is here, in the city," the elf forced out. "Three of them came on the ship...waiting here for orders...dangerous."

"Enough," Arelius soothed. Lucretia reentered the room, and tender hands angled an antidote into Tamil's mouth. The woman nearly choked on the potion, violently coughing as it went down her throat.

"I'll ready a room," Lucretia said, and she turned to a servant who was nervously waiting at the edge of the room. Portia heard her hostess giving orders, but she was more concerned with the whispered conversation going on between Arelius and the Dunmer. She had never seen the elf before, but she highly suspected that the woman was a Blade. Now she was dying, and the thought of the Mythic Dawn being so close in the city sent Portia's mind down the road of dark contemplation. The Dawn followed Mehrunes, and she didn't like to think that they were here, possibly looking for her. She had to return to her dreams and look for answers.

"Don't..." the elf suddenly spat, body shaking as if in fever, and sweat drops running down the side of her face. "Can't...breathe..."

"Tamil," Arelius urged, holding her by the shoulders.

"Need to stop...protect her..." The woman was clearly delirious, but she was still trying to speak, and feeble hands reached for Arelius' shoulders. "I..."

"It's okay," Arelius soothed, face blank and voice low. "Go to sleep. I'll take care of it." The woman nodded, and her hands dropped, leaving Portia to wonder if she was dead or alive. Judging by the way Arelius gently traced a symbol on her forehead, the woman's chances of survival were slim, and there was something reserved and sad in Arelius' posture that made Portia feel as though she were intruding on a private scene for which she was not meant.

"The room is...oh, is she gone?" Lucretia asked. She stood in the doorway, waiting.

"No," came Arelius' soft response. "But she may be soon. I'll move her myself." He remained crouched, one hand on the woman's hand as if willing her to live. He had worked with her for a long time, and seeing her on the verge of death on such a peaceful night came as an unpleasant surprise. Lucretia wordlessly moved toward him and placed a kiss on the top of his head, one hand stroking his brown hair. She whispered something, and then she seemed to remember Portia's presence, eyes shifting toward the silent figure.

"I'll be in my room," Portia announced. Arelius glanced at her before straightening with the Dunmer cradled in his arms. From outward appearances, it was difficult to tell if he was feeling anything, but Portia knew that he was. "Blade business," she acknowledged. "I know. Goodnight." And she retired to her rooms, wondering if Arelius felt as responsible for the woman's condition as she had once felt for her own comrade's pain.