Chapter 23
The dankness of the Dawnstar Sanctuary was beginning to get to Tamsyn now. She really didn't want to intrude further into the place to find Cicero; she was afraid of what she might find there, and Cicero might take it to be an invasion of his privacy.
"Cicero!" she called out as loud as she dared.
"Issero…issero…sero…sero…ro." Her voice echoed through the passageways.
Finally, a plaintive voice drifted back to her.
"Cicero comes! Sweet Tamsyn must be patient!" He emerged from one of the corridors to her left, pulling his motley on and fastening it up. The peaked cap was crammed into a pocket and he took it out and smoothed it before perching it on his bright red head.
"I'm sorry, Cicero, did I wake you?" she asked.
"No, no," he said. "Cicero was bathing in the pool downstairs. Cleanliness is next to godsliness, the priests say, you know….although here cleanliness is next to impossible."
Tamsyn had the grace to color a bit. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't realize you'd be…well, I'm sorry."
"Sweet Tamsyn is embarrassed?" Cicero grinned. "Perhaps she wishes to join poor, frozen Cicero? Warm him up? Hmmm?"
"Um..no, thank you!" Tamsyn said quickly, going even redder. Why am I blushing? I know all about sex!
"Oh ho ho! The innocent little Breton mage blushes! Dear, pretty Tamsyn need not worry that Cicero will molest her, no, no! After Cicero's bath, his poor, Imperial ne-ne's are completely shriveled and useless! And besides, sorceress Tamsyn is not Cicero's type!"
I don't seem to be anyone's type, Tamsyn mourned privately, but aloud said, "That's…a bit too much information, actually. Look, I'm sorry to have interrupted your bath, but I wanted to let you know I'm in town, and ready to take another trip."
"Oooo!" Cicero giggled, clapping his hands and breaking into a jig. "Cicero and Tamsyn, off on another whirlwind adventure! Where are our two stalwart adventures going to this time?" he asked. "More Dwemer ruins? Will there be nasty, skulking Falmer for Cicero to stabbity-stab-stab? Please say there will be?" He fluttered his eyelashes shamelessly.
She couldn't help herself. In spite of the fact he was a cold-blooded killer, he was flirting so outrageously that Tamsyn laughed. "No, not a Dwemer ruin this time, Cicero. We're going to Labyrinthian, and we won't be going alone. I've brought two friends along. It's one of the reasons I wanted to talk with you tonight before we leave in the morning."
"Labyrinthian?" Cicero stopped his capering and grew completely serious. His voice dropped an octave. "Does innocent Tamsyn realize the danger? Even Cicero knows of Labyrinthian. He has even been there, once, though not inside the ruins themselves."
Tamsyn nodded soberly. "Do you remember I told you about a powerful artifact we found at Saarthal?" she asked him.
"Cicero remembers everything dear Tamsyn has ever said to him," he drawled, "even if some of it didn't make sense. Is Tamsyn sure she isn't touched by Sheogorath himself?" His voice rose back to its usual high pitch.
"I'm sure, Cicero," Tamsyn said, hiding a smile. "The artifact has been compromised by a Thalmor mage named Ancano. It's on a power build-up to overload and explode. If I can't find the key to stop it, it could take all of Winterhold, and a good part of Skyrim with it."
Cicero tsked and tutted. "Cicero has no love for hoity-toity High Elves and their toadies! And this key sweet Tamsyn needs is in the Labyrinth?" he asked. "Cicero is very good at figuring out puzzles."
"I know that very well," she grinned. "I've seen you at work in Mzulft, remember? But no, the key I need, the Staff of Magnus, isn't in the Labyrinth part, it's deep within the ruins themselves."
"So Tamsyn needs her brave Cicero to come with her to find the key," Cicero mused. "Will there be things for Cicero to stab?"
"Yes," Tamsyn said soberly. "Lot of things. Mostly draugr – some really powerful draugr, actually – some skeletons, an undead dragon, and a lich-lord."
Cicero seemed to consider these revelations. "Hmm…Cicero has no love for undead things. When Cicero stabs something dead, they should stay dead. Cicero will need to sharpen his blades."
"You'll come with me, then?" Tamsyn asked, her voice rising in hope. Despite what she'd told Marcus, until this moment, she wasn't sure she could convince Cicero to come with her.
"Perhaps," Cicero said slowly. "Sweet Tamsyn mentioned….others? How many others come with pretty Tamsyn and her Cicero?"
"Just two," Tamsyn said. Here comes the really tricky part, she thought. "A man I first came to Skyrim with, months ago. His name is Marcus. He's from Whiterun. He has a Housecarl with him; Argis the Bulwark."
"Hmm…" Cicero considered, frowning. "Would this 'Marcus of Whiterun' be the 'Marcus Dragonborn' Cicero has heard about?"
Damn. She'd been hoping to keep that tidbit of information from him, especially since it was all over Skyrim that the Dragonborn had taken out the Dark Brotherhood.
"Yes," she said. There was no other way around this, and she wasn't going to lie to an assassin. "He's the same person. But you do remember what I told you about Astrid, right?" She wasn't sure he had believed her then. She was even less sure now.
"Cicero only has sweet Tamsyn's word on that," he growled, eyes narrowing. "If the foul Dragonborn has killed Cicero's family, he must pay for that with his life!"
"You can't kill him, Cicero!" she exclaimed, alarmed. "If Marcus dies, this world ends! Alduin, the World-Eater himself has returned, and Marcus is the only one who can stop him!"
"Cicero does not care!" he snarled, pacing like a wild animal back and forth. "Stinking Dragonborn wiped out Cicero's brethren! Cicero does not care if the world ends! He will send this Dragonborn to Sithis himself, and then the world can go to the Void!"
Uh oh, I'm in trouble here, Tamsyn thought, her heart sinking. If there are any Divines listening, I could use some help!
"Cicero will accompany sweet Tamsyn on her quest," Cicero continued ranting with venom. "He swore his oath to the Dread Father not to kill the pretty mage, so he will not! No, but he said nothing about the hated Dragonborn! Cicero will tear his heart out and watch it beat its last in his hand!" He was practically shrieking now, and Tamsyn was more afraid now than she'd been when she first entered the Dawnstar Sanctuary a month ago.
"It would be most unwise to eliminate an ally before their usefulness is at an end," a hollow voice said, echoing through the chambers. A glowing figure ascended the stairs to the right and Tamsyn almost wet herself with relief.
"L-Lucien?" Cicero faltered. "Lucien LaChance? The Spectral Assassin speaks to humble Cicero?" The little Imperial practically fell to his knees, halted in his tracks.
"You are the Keeper, Cicero," Lucien reminded him sternly. "It is not your duty to fulfill contracts any longer."
"But…but Lucien," Cicero pleaded. "The Dragonborn…he murdered Cicero's family. Our family! We cannot permit him to go unpunished!"
"The Dragonborn is protected by Akatosh," the Spectral Assassin told the jester. "You may not harm him. And he was merely the instrument of our Dread Lord in punishing Astrid for her perfidy."
"Perfidy?" Cicero gasped. He threw a sidelong glance at Tamsyn, who refused to meet his eyes, keeping hers fixed on the ghost before them.
"What Tamsyn told you before is true," Lucien nodded briefly to Tamsyn. "Astrid abandoned the Tenets. She disregarded our ways, insulted the Night Mother, even defied the Dread Father by holding herself above him as the sole leader of the Falkreath Sanctuary. She appointed no Speaker and no Silencer. She ignored your letters regarding the Night Mother, and sought her own contracts in the name of the Dark Brotherhood. That is not our way."
Cicero hung his head. "So Cicero must allow them to go unavenged."
"You have no choice in this," Lucien insisted. "To do otherwise is to defy Sithis himself, and risk his wrath upon your head." Lucien's voice softened, and he permitted a smile to flit across his ghostly features. "You are the last Son of Sithis. It is not permitted for you to throw your life away on a fool's errand."
The little Imperial slumped and seemed to shrink into himself. "But Cicero is a fool," he muttered. Upon seeing the stern look Lucien fastened on him, he sighed. "Cicero will be a good boy," he promised forlornly. "Cicero will not harm the Dragonborn." There was a wealth of loathing in the way he spoke Marcus' title. A bit of defiance managed to struggle to the surface. "But he does not promise to like the man!"
Lucien seemed amused. "That is not required of you. All that is required is that you do him no harm." He turned to Tamsyn and bowed. "A pity your heart is not blacker," he observed smoothly. "You would make a worthy Listener." He bowed once more and faded from their sight.
Tamsyn released the breath she'd been holding and turned to Cicero. "Are you alright?" she asked gently.
"No," Cicero pouted. "Cicero has just been taken to task by his superior! Of course he is not alright!" His voice cracked plaintively. "Cicero needs a hug!"
Smiling tremulously, Tamsyn put her arms tentatively around Cicero and cuddled him the way a mother would an errant child. He sighed and snuggled in, content. They remained that way for a long while before Cicero finally spoke.
"Cicero will go with pretty Tamsyn and…and the Dragonborn," he said, his voice hardening a little as he spoke Marcus' title. "Cicero will behave himself and be a good boy."
"Thank you, Cicero," she said simply. "That means a lot to me. We'll leave at daybreak. Meet us south of Dawnstar where the Khajiit caravans park. Now try and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."
She left the Sanctuary then and headed back to town, pausing only for a few moments to relieve herself in the bushes. That was too close! For a moment there, she was honestly afraid she'd screwed up irrevocably and put Marcus' life in danger. She sent up a prayer of thanksgiving to all nine Divines, and a special one to Lucien LaChance for his intervention. Now she just needed to keep Marcus from finding out that the man who would be traveling with them was the last member of an organization that the Dragonborn had done his best to eradicate.
Back at the Windpeak, she noticed the only two people still in the common area, besides Thoring and his daughter Karita, were Marcus and Argis, sitting in a corner watching the door. They both seemed to relax when she entered. Touched by their concern, but determined not to show it, she crossed over to their table and sat down.
"You two didn't have to wait up. We'll need to get an early start tomorrow."
Marcus frowned. "You go off to talk to an acknowledged lunatic, and you think I wouldn't wait up for you?"
Tamsyn scowled. "I'm not a child, Marcus. I knew what I was doing." But thank the gods for Lucien's intervention!
"Fine, whatever," he said sourly. "So, did you get things settled?"
Tamsyn nodded. "Cicero has agreed to meet us in the morning, near where the Khajiits park their wagons."
"How far from here to Labyrinthian, then?" Argis asked.
"I'm not a hundred percent sure," Tamsyn said, "but probably about six or seven hours, depending on what we meet on the road."
"Any place to stop along the way?" he asked.
Tamsyn shook her head. "No, not really. If I remember my map correctly, we'll pass by the Dwarven ruins of Mzinchaleft along the way, and there's a mining camp also. Stonehills, I think it's called. We'll be skirting the foothills north of Skyborn Altar before we get to Labyrinthian."
"What's Skyborn Altar?" the big Nord asked.
"It's a mountain with an ancient dragon priest temple on the top."
"Is there a Word Wall up there?" Marcus asked, a gleam in his eye.
Tamsyn grinned. "Yes, and if you're a good boy we'll check it out on our way back. The path that leads up the mountain begins south of Labyrinthian."
Argis stood and stretched. "Did you need anything else, my Thane?" he asked solicitously.
"No, Argis," Marcus told him. "Go get some rest. I think I'll stay up a bit longer."
Argis nodded and headed to his room.
"I need to rent a room myself," Tamsyn said, rising, but Marcus motioned her to sit back down.
"I already took care of it for you," he said. "Here's your key."
Tamsyn blinked. "Thank you," she said, accepting it, and resuming her seat. Karita finally remembered her duties as waitress and came over to ask if they'd like anything to drink. Marcus ordered another ale and Tamsyn asked for mulled wine.
When Karita left to fill their orders, they sat for several minutes in awkward silence before Tamsyn tentatively asked, "So, fitting in alright?"
Marcus chuckled. "Not at first, but it's getting better." He sobered. "I've missed you, Tamsyn," he said honestly. "I mean, I was angry at you for a long time, leaving the way you did without even a word, but I have been worried, wondering where you were, and if you were alright."
"You know why I had to leave, Marcus," she said, then stopped when Karita returned with their drinks.
He nodded after the girl returned to the counter. "Yeah, I do…now. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt that you completely bailed on me and threw me to the wolves."
"I like to think you were just getting on your feet," she pointed out. "You were being made Thane of Whiterun, the Jarl gave you Lydia as a Housecarl, and I knew you'd have to go see the Greybeards after that. Everything was set in motion for you."
"Lydia knew where you went, didn't she?" Marcus asked, irritated.
Tamsyn nodded. "Yes, but don't be angry with her. I didn't say it in so many words; it was sort of an unspoken thing between us, but I didn't want you to know where I'd gone."
"I could have used your help you know, in the beginning," he told her.
Tamsyn shrugged. "Would the successes you've had since then mean as much to you, if I'd been there holding your hand and telling you what to do next?"
Marcus sighed and shook his head. "No, they wouldn't have. I said you were right. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt."
"I know," Tamsyn said, "and for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
He looked up at her and smiled. "Apology accepted. So, where does that leave us now?"
"Colleagues," she smiled, and he noticed for the first time the dimples that appeared in her cheeks when she was highly amused by something. "Co-conspirators in the quest to rid Skyrim of all that's evil," she continued chuckling.
"I'd say that's a pretty tall order," Marcus smirked, taking a pull of his ale.
Tamsyn sobered. "Yeah, it is. We should stick to one thing at a time."
"Like Labyrinthian?" he asked.
"Yeah, like Labyrinthian."
"I don't suppose you'll give me a heads-up?" he asked.
"It can wait until we get there," she said. "Right now I'd rather hear about what you've been up to. I've heard some of the stories, but certainly not all."
So he told her everything he'd done since they parted at Dragonsreach; all the bounty quests he'd done to earn money to buy Breezehome, learning new Shouts, adopting Lucia, Blaise and Sofie, and becoming Thane in Markarth.
"I'm so glad you adopted them!" Tamsyn exclaimed, her eyes shining. "The game only allows you to adopt a maximum of two children, but I wanted to take them all in. I always adopted the girls, though."
"Gender bias?" he teased.
"No," Tamsyn said, somewhat defensively. "It's just that the girls were forced to sleep outside in all kinds of weather, and I couldn't stand that. At least Blaise and Alesan had warm beds."
"Who's Alesan?" Marcus asked.
Tamsyn dimpled at him again. "He's right behind you, sleeping over there in the corner," she said, nodding in that direction.
He turned and saw a young Redguard boy, about Sofie's age, curled up against the wall, sound asleep.
"What's his story?" Marcus asked softly.
"His mother died a while back, if I remember rightly," Tamsyn said. "He and his father traveled with some sailors, but his father became ill. The sailors put them off here and left them. When his father eventually died, Alesan made a job for himself by running food and water to the workers of the two mines here."
"They're on opposite sides of town," Marcus pointed out.
"I know," Tamsyn replied. "And Alesan runs back and forth between them, all day, every day, in rain, snow, sleet or hail. In return, Thoring lets him sleep in here at night."
"Poor kid must be exhausted," Marcus murmured.
"It was worse before Erandur and I stopped the nightmares," Tamsyn said. "I would have adopted him myself, but…well…as you saw from my dorm room, I'm not exactly set up to take in a child."
I am, Marcus thought. Four children! He smiled to himself. It was more than he and Lynne had had together, but really, how could he not adopt Alesan? He wouldn't feel right about not taking the boy in. But first things first, he needed to help Tamsyn.
"I would have adopted him myself, but…"
She had a generous heart, he was finding out.
She always adopted the girls, because she couldn't stand the thought of them sleeping outside.
Did the thought come from him, or his inner dragon? It didn't matter. Tamsyn was a sympathetic, caring person. Just the fact she was willing to travel with a deranged lunatic because she felt sorry for him said a lot about her compassion, even while it questioned her wisdom in these matters. No matter. If this Cicero person tried anything, Marcus intended to be right there, to intervene if needed.
They talked late into the night, despite the fact they both needed to get an early start in the morning. It was the first opportunity Marcus had to really get to know Tamsyn; not just who she was before she came to Skyrim, but who she was becoming now she was here.
"There's really not much to tell about my life before Skyrim," she shrugged. "I was born in nineteen-forty, was too young to remember World War Two, though my father died in it. My mother remarried when I was ten and I had a younger half-brother and half-sister. They both died years ago. I was a hippy in the Sixties, a real flower child. I got knocked up and pregnant and ended up giving my baby away to be adopted. They never even told me if I had a boy or girl, or let me hold it."
"That's terrible!" Marcus murmured.
Tamsyn sighed. "I never forgot my child, though. I often wondered how he or she grew up, if they were happy, if they ever thought of me or were angry because I gave them up."
"You did what you felt was best for your baby," Marcus said.
"No," Tamsyn admitted. "I did it because I didn't want to be tied down to a child. It was only later – much later – that the regrets kicked in. I always lit a candle for my baby on the birth day."
"Did you ever get married, have other children?" Marcus asked.
"Yes, I married George; he was a real wild guy. Always had a scheme, a plan, a way to get rich quick. Thing is, for him, it all worked. He was a whiz when it came to finance and he started a brokerage firm. He made tons of money. We met at a wild party and hit it off; the next thing I knew we were in Vegas getting married by Elvis."
Marcus chuckled.
"I never had to work outside my home," Tamsyn went on. "I had two more children, a son and a daughter, and they grew up to be lazy, spoiled and selfish with an overinflated sense of entitlement."
"That's pretty harsh," Marcus frowned.
"But it's true," Tamsyn said. "My son became a lawyer, and my daughter became a psychiatrist, so they were making good money. George left me for a younger woman, and I ended up in the nursing home when I got too old to take care of myself and live in my own home. I heard from my son that George took his own life when the economy when south in two-thousand-eight."
"Sounds like you had it pretty rough," Marcus sympathized.
Tamsyn shook her head. "Oh, no, I disagree. I had times that were rough, but overall it wasn't bad. It was only toward the end that it got…lonely."
"Your kids never came to see you?"
"No, nor the grandkids, either," Tamsyn said. "They said the home depressed them. So how did they think I felt living there all alone with no family visiting?"
"How did you end up learning to play the game?" he asked.
Tamsyn smiled softly. "There was a pretty, young nurse who took care of me. Her name was Caitlin. One day she came in to work and started telling me about this video game she played with her brothers. 'Skyrim', she called it, and said it was the fifth of a series of games about the realm of Nirn. She talked so much about it I found myself living vicariously through her adventures, and finally I arranged between her, the resident supervisor and my financial advocate to have Caitlin buy me the game and a system to play it on. Then she'd sit with me for hours on end on her days off, teaching me to play." She smirked. "Tamsyn was actually the name of the character I played; it's not my real name. Caitlin and I had so much fun! She was the granddaughter I wished mine had been."
"So that's how you knew so much about Skyrim when we first got here."
Tamsyn nodded. "Caitlin didn't know it, but I also arranged to have my Will altered to include her. My kids will probably fight it, but between my lawyer and me, I think we got it nailed down pretty tightly. Caitlin told me many times she wanted to be more than a nurse; she wanted to be a doctor. Now she'll get her chance."
And here was another side of Tamsyn he found himself liking; her honesty and generosity. She'd made mistakes in the past, but didn't sugar-coat it or deny that it had happened. She owned up to it and made amends where she could and moved on when she couldn't.
"What have you been doing since I last saw you in Whiterun, then?" Marcus asked now. "I take it you went directly to the mages' college?" She nodded.
"I've been studying magic like crazy since I got to Winterhold," Tamsyn told him. "I've delved into some of the barrows nearby, either with Brelyna, Onmund or J'Zargo, and that's given us the coin to help pay for our training."
"The training isn't included with your studies?"
"We get basic instruction on the uses and mechanics of magic," Tamsyn explained, "and the more we practice what we've been taught, the better we get at it, but any additional study we wish to pursue requires a fee to the instructor. If we want to learn a new spell, we have to buy the book for it. I've been concentrating mainly on Destruction and Restoration magic, but I haven't neglected the other Schools. I just figured that for what I needed to do, 'Dest' and 'Rest' were my best options."
"I'm going to assume that Destruction involves your fire and lightning spells?" Marcus asked. "And Restoration is healing?"
Tamsyn nodded. "Destruction also covers ice magic. Restoration includes any kind of warding spell that prevents other spells or elemental effects from hurting me. A strong enough ward can nullify a dragon's breath. I know…I've used it."
"You've fought a dragon?" he blinked, astonished. He hadn't anticipated that.
"Dragons are attacking all over Skyrim, Marcus," Tamsyn told him. "We've had one near Mount Anthor that decides to swing over Winterhold every now and then for sport. We killed it, and then a week or so later it was back."
"Are you sure it was the same dragon?" he asked.
"Same markings and everything," she nodded. "I believe Alduin must have raised it, since you weren't around to take its soul."
Marcus remained silent. This bothered him more than he cared to admit. He couldn't be everywhere at once. If he was fighting a troll near Riften he couldn't be in Hjaalmarch to slay a dragon and take its soul.
"I'm only one Dragonborn," he muttered, not for the first time.
"I know that, Marcus," Tamsyn said sympathetically, placing her hand on his gauntleted one. "Everyone in Skyrim knows that. It doesn't keep people like Skald the Elder from criticizing you, but I think that's more because you're Imperial, and we all know what he thinks of the Empire. If you'd been placed in a Nord body, Skald would be defending you with his dying breath."
"How am I supposed to be everywhere at once?" he demanded, frustrated.
"You can't be," she told him firmly. "All you can do is what you can do. Get yourself strong enough to face Alduin. Defeat him, and the dragon problem will sort itself out."
"I can't fight Alduin unless I know the Dragonrend Shout," he told her. "It's why I need the Elder Scroll."
"I know," Tamsyn assured him. "And we'll go after it, I promise. But this situation in Winterhold is critical. If we can't get the Staff of Magnus to stabilize the Eye and remove Ancano from its influence, it could take out a good chunk of Skyrim if it blows."
Marcus sighed and nodded. "Alright, I get it. Get Staff first, get Scroll second."
"It's late," Tamsyn said now. "There's maybe only six hours until sun-up. We should get some rest."
Marcus stood and held her chair while she rose. He escorted her to her room and bid her good-night before returning to his, where Argis was sleeping soundly in the other bed.
With everything he'd learned today, turning it all over in his mind, it was a long while before Marcus drifted off into restless unconsciousness.
Marcus waited with Tamsyn and Argis near a clearing just southwest of Dawnstar. Tamsyn told him it was where one of the Khajiit caravaneers, Ahkari, would set up her tents when she was at this end of her route. But there were no tents here today; no tents, no Khajiit, and no Cicero.
"He did say he'd come, didn't he?" Argis wondered.
"Yes," Tamsyn said, searching all around with her eyes. Cicero was an assassin, though the other two didn't know it; he was the last of the Dark Brotherhood, and thank the gods they didn't know that either. He was very good at hiding; she'd already seen proof of that at Mzulft. He could literally be standing right next to them and they'd never know it until he decided to step out into the open.
"How long are we going to wait?" Marcus asked impatiently. The sun had been up for an hour, and he wanted to get this over with. She had changed into a clean tunic, he'd noticed, and several scrolls were tucked into a bandolier across her chest. She hadn't worn that yesterday.
Probably saving them for Labyrinthian, he thought.
She carried a uniquely-carved staff in a harness down her back, which he had noticed the day before, but she hadn't used it, and in all his excitement at finally finding her again, and with all the things he'd wanted to ask her last night, it had completely slipped his mind. Carved and stained in the shape of a long-stemmed rose, complete with thorns, it was a beautiful piece of workmanship, and he wondered what it did. Oh well, he'd probably find out soon enough.
"Let's give him a little bit longer," Tamsyn said now, trying not to wring her hands. Instead she wandered away to a small copse of trees, her eyes scanning the rocks piled up in the area. If one followed the entire Dark Brotherhood quest in the game and re-established the Dawnstar Sanctuary, there would be a secret entrance somewhere around here.
But there was nothing; at least, nothing her eyes could see. Or it wouldn't be a secret, would it, Tamsyn?
Sighing, she turned back to rejoin Marcus and Argis, still waiting not-so-patiently nearby.
"Sweet Tamsyn is looking in the wrong place!" Cicero called from the other side of the road, near the animal pen. He stepped out from behind the bushes and set his small backpack at his feet.
"Cicero!" she cried, relieved. "You made it!"
Marcus stared at the little man. His features declared him to be an Imperial, but his hair was bright red. Not the darker auburn of Tamsyn's hair at all; Cicero's was the fiery reddish-orange of a summer sunset. His large brown eyes constantly darted all around, as if taking in each and every detail of his surroundings.
Looking for escape routes, no doubt, Marcus thought sourly.
The man was wearing a jester's motley in shades of red and black trimmed with gold embroidery, with a three-peaked cap on his head. It was clear the suit was well-worn, for it was carefully patched in several places, and some of the embroidery was fraying. He carried a bow and some arrows of Elven make in a quiver on his back, and wore an unholy-looking dagger on one hip made of black metal that gleamed with an unhealthy red glow from within. On the other hip he carried a dagger made of blackest ebony that shimmered with an eerie green light.
"Cicero," Tamsyn began, "these are my friends, Marcus and Argis." She indicated them in turn. "Gentlemen, this is Cicero."
Cicero inclined his head stiffly to Marcus, who returned the gesture.
"Wow! Is that an ebony blade?" Argis said admiringly.
Cicero nodded, then his smile broadened as he took in the six-foot-four well-muscled Nord. He sidled over and looked up at the Housecarl. He had to look a long way up.
"Ooo! Yes, ebony!" he cooed. "Cicero would be happy to let – Argis, was it? – have a closer look!"
Tamsyn choked for a moment, and Marcus thought she was going to intervene as Cicero swiftly drew the blade and flourished it. But she breathed a sigh as the little man flipped it neatly over and presented it hilt first to Argis.
"That's some really fine craftsmanship," Argis said, impressed. "Did you make this?"
"No, no," Cicero giggled. "Cicero doesn't make weapons. He only uses them. Cicero got the dagger from…someone who didn't need it anymore," he finished, catching the glare of warning Tamsyn shot at him.
"Lucky you," Argis grinned. "I can't wait to see how you fight two-weapon style with just a couple daggers. You must be good."
"Cicero is…very good," the jester assured him, his voice dropping to the lower registers again, and Argis couldn't keep the silly grin off his face.
Marcus was dumbfounded. Of all the people in this world for his Housecarl to fall for, he was getting cow-eyed over a homicidal maniac?
"Please tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing," he muttered to Tamsyn.
"It's probably not as bad as you think," she whispered back.
"Oh, no," Marcus disagreed. "I think it's exactly as bad as I think it will be."
"It's their life," she hissed. "If it helps keep Cicero in line, and allows us to get along together, I'm not going to stop it."
"He can do so much better, though," Marcus complained.
"Which one?" Tamsyn quirked a grin. "Argis or Cicero? Gentlemen," she called out to the other two, "we should get moving."
Argis was showing Cicero his Nordic sword, and the two were already trading tips on fighting styles, which kept them talking with their heads together for the next hour as they traveled down the road which would eventually lead to Morthal. They would not take it that far, however, since Labyrinthian was on the way. Tamsyn was grateful Cicero kept his gleeful comments about stabbing people to a minimum.
The wildlife bothered them; of course it did. Bears were generally stupid enough to try to take on anything that approached too closely to their territory, and sabre cats weren't much better. The wolves learned to keep their distance from the group after the first attack, which ended badly for the wolves. Fully armed warriors and a Destruction mage weren't nearly as easy pickings as a group of wandering bards or merchants.
About an hour south of Dawnstar they passed near a giant camp where a solitary giant and his mammoth were fending off an attack by several bandits. The giant stomped one of them into the ground and knocked another high into the sky, and Marcus was reminded of Benor's comment on the huge humanoids.
"He looks like he's got it under control," he told the others. "Let's not interfere unless it goes badly for him."
"Cicero thinks the giant wouldn't thank us for helping anyway," the little jester sniffed. "Cicero sought to help a giant once, and the giant was most ungrateful! He tried to make poor, poor Cicero one with the tundra! Cicero was forced to kill the giant, blunting his dagger in the process!" He sounded offended, but his next comment revealed a closer truth. "Of course, the giant's treasure made Cicero very happy. It gave him this shiny ebony blade!"
More likely that he picked it off a dead bandit, Marcus thought. He couldn't believe the little Imperial had taken down a giant on his own. But his own experience with bandit told him they rarely had blades as fine as ebony in their possession. He didn't trust the jester any further than he could throw him, and resolved to keep a close eye on the red-haired Imperial. There was something about him that made Marcus feel uneasy. It wasn't just that the man continued to refer to himself in the third person. There was something dark and dangerous about Cicero that set Marcus' senses on full alert.
Tamsyn called a halt four hours into the trip; she was getting tired and hungry and needed a rest. Cicero sidled up to her while Marcus and Argis worked on getting a fire going to cook their lunch.
"Tamsyn did not tell Cicero what a wonderful man Argis is!" he giggled. "He's so big and strong, and he takes very good care of his weapon!"
I'm sure there's an innuendo in there, Tamsyn thought, but I am not going there!
"He's certainly a very handsome man," Tamsyn smiled.
Cicero's brow knit together. "Is sweet Tamsyn…interested in dear Argis?" he asked tentatively.
The red-haired Breton girl sighed. "It wouldn't matter if I was, Cicero," she said. "Argis made it quite clear on the way to Dawnstar from Winterhold that he wasn't interested in me. I get the feeling he's not all that…interested…in women, in general."
"Ooo!" Cicero squealed, quietly. "Perhaps dear Argis would be…interested…in Cicero?" He capered happily on the spot before scurrying off help gather firewood.
While Cicero certainly seemed to be warming up to Argis, he kept a cool distance to Marcus. Frankly, this suited Marcus just fine. The little Imperial gave him the creeps, though Argis certainly seemed to have no reservations about the jester's company. Marcus spent some time during the lunch break to pore over his map and compare it with Tamsyn's. They traded landmarks and information about the places they'd been to, while Cicero and Argis did a mock-sparring match off to one side of the road using blunt sticks.
"So what are we in for when we get to Labyrinthian?" Marcus asked.
"Well, there will probably be frost trolls outside," she said, "at least a handful or so. The area was once a vast, sprawling city known as Bromjunaar in the earliest days of Skyrim, back when the Dragon Cult ruled here. The most powerful Dragon Priests would meet here to discuss their laws and affairs of state, as it were."
"The Dragon Priests controlled everything?" Marcus asked.
"Not exactly," Tamsyn said. "The dragons controlled everything, and the Priests handed down the laws as given to them by the dragons. They ruled Skyrim from Bromjunaar for many years, until the Dragon Wars."
"I have a book about that," Marcus said. "Esbern gave it to me."
A curious look passed over her face which Marcus took note of. By now he was used to the "I know something you don't know but I'm not going to tell you" look that Tamsyn would frequently get. He didn't think she realized just how expressive her face was, and how bad she was at disguising or hiding her feelings. Deciding not to call her on it now, though, he focused on what she was saying.
"After the Dragon Wars, the whole place was abandoned and fell into ruin. It became known as Labyrinthian, because one of the buildings there houses an actual labyrinth, where the great mage, Shalidor, used to write some of his greatest magical works."
"So how did the Staff of Magnus end up there?" he asked.
"It was held by one of the Dragon Priests, Morokei," she said. "Quite a while ago, late in the third era, I believe, our Arch-Mage, Savos Aren was a young student at the College. With five of his fellow students, they undertook an expedition to Labyrinthian to explore and discover some of its secrets. They had hoped to find some of Shalidor's writings, at the very least. They had no idea that the Dragon Priest Morokei was entombed and sealed within."
"They woke him up," Marcus stated. Tamsyn nodded.
"They did indeed. If all six had survived to that point, they might have stood a ghost of a chance against him. As it was, of the six college-trained mages that entered Labyrinthian, only one – Savos Aren – ever came out of it alive."
Marcus thought about that for a long moment.
"And what makes you think that just the four of us will fare any better?" he asked.
"Well, first of all, only one of us is a mage. Savos and his companions had no training in weaponry and armor, something that would have been very useful in the tomb."
"Okay, what else?"
Tamsyn quirked a grin. "You're the Dragonborn; you have skill sets no one else has. Cicero is a highly trained fighting machine, and Argis is no slouch, either."
"And you?"
Tamsyn dimpled at him again, and he felt he could get lost in those emerald green eyes that twinkled back at him. "I'm a 'Seer', remember? I have a pretty good idea what we're up against; something Savos and his companions couldn't hope to anticipate. Alone, I'd be toast in there. With the four of us together, we stand a chance."
They finished up their midday meal and gathered their belongings up to prepare to continue on their way. Cicero was pouting a bit after the sparring match, and Argis was tripping over himself in apology.
"I'm really sorry I hurt you, Cicero," he said concerned. "I didn't mean to! I just forgot myself."
"What happened?" Tamsyn asked.
"I got carried away," Argis said morosely. "I didn't mean to hit him so hard, but we were both getting into it…."
"Come here and let me see, Cicero," Tamsyn said.
The little jester sniffled a little as he came over and showed Tamsyn his wrist. It was puffy and red, but not broken. Cicero howled when she touched it, but she was sure it was mostly a ploy for sympathy. Judging from the way Argis hovered worriedly nearby, she had a feeling Cicero was going to milk this for all it was worth.
"It's just a little sprain," Tamsyn said.
"It still hurts! Ow-ow-ow!" Cicero moaned.
Tamsyn rolled her eyes and cast a Healing Hands spell on Cicero's wrist until the redness disappeared and the puffiness subsided.
"Oooo, Healer!" Cicero giggled. "That tickles!"
"There," she said. "Can't have you nursing an injury before we even get there."
"Thank you dear, sweet, Tamsyn!" Cicero bubbled. "And Cicero forgives you, too, Argis," he said magnanimously, to Argis' relief.
Tamsyn rolled her eyes again, and Marcus – in spite of himself – hid a grin. This was going to be an interesting trip.
They pushed on, and by mid-afternoon found themselves just north of the turn-off they needed to take to reach Labyrinthian. Tamsyn stopped and took off her backpack.
"Something wrong, Tamsyn?" Marcus asked.
"No," she said. "I just need to give all of you some things I packed specifically to get us through this."
She led them to a rocky outcropping and rummaged through her pack, pulling out several familiar red and green bottles, dividing them evenly among the three men with her.
"Stamina and healing potions," she explained. "And for you, Cicero, a few poisons. They're as strong as I could make them, but use them sparingly and only at need, since I don't know if we'll find any inside."
The men put the potions into their packs as Tamsyn pulled out a handful of scrolls. She handed two to Marcus and two to Cicero.
"These are Heal Other spells." She hesitated. "If…I go down, that spell may be the only thing to save me, or at least get me conscious enough to heal myself. Cicero has used them before."
The red-haired jester nodded. Marcus looked at the scroll. "I can't do magic, Tamsyn," he protested.
Cicero scoffed. "The Dragonborn doesn't need to know magic," he said with smug superiority. "The magic is in the scroll. The Dragonborn only needs to read it to make it work."
Tamsyn nodded. "He's right, Marcus. Anyone can use a scroll, if they know how to read. The incantations are generally short, because you don't always have a lot of time to get them off. If you're not sure, watch Cicero when he uses his."
"Maybe I'll just let Cicero have mine, then," Marcus said doubtfully.
"And what will the Dragonborn do if Cicero isn't there?" the little Imperial snorted.
"Just take the scroll, Marcus," Tamsyn insisted. "Hopefully, you won't have to use it."
Marcus tucked the scroll into his pack, fervently hoping she would be right. "Is that it, then?" he asked.
"No, just a few more things," Tamsyn said. "I made these a while ago, intending to sell them, but things started escalating at the College, and I never got a chance to find out if Birna would be interested in buying them. So for now, we'll use these." She pulled out a handful of rings and necklaces and began distributing them.
"This one should boost your skills with your sword," she told Argis, handing him a simple gold medallion. He thanked her and slipped it over his head.
"This one should make it easier for you to get around unnoticed, Cicero," she smirked, giving him a silver and amethyst ring.
"Ooo!" he squealed. "Cicero loves his new, pretty ring! Isn't it pretty, Argis?" he cooed. "Cicero will be so sneaky, they will never see him coming! Cicero thanks you, dear, sweet Tamsyn!"
Tamsyn grinned and then turned to Marcus. "I…uh…made this to sell, but I think you can get some use from it." She handed him a gold and sapphire ring.
"What does it do?" he asked.
"It should protect you better from cold-based attacks," she said. "I have another one here that will protect against fire." She handed him a silver and garnet ring. "You can hang onto this one as well, and swap them out as needed."
"What about you?" Marcus asked, concerned.
"I already have a ring that regenerates my magicka faster than normal," she shrugged. "I would rather have that than an elemental protection. I've got spells to protect me from those."
"Can't you wear both?" he asked.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "The energy fields generated by the magic involved with rings tend to cancel each other out. I could wear an amulet and a ring, but not two rings. For some reason, it just doesn't work."
"Doesn't seem fair," Marcus grinned wryly. "I have two hands; I should be able to wear two rings."
Tamsyn nodded. "You won't get an argument from me, but sadly, it is what it is." She stood then and slipped her backpack on once more. "If you're ready, then, gentlemen, let's go. Labyrinthian awaits."
[Author's Note: This chapter took me a while to write, only because it was important to set up for what comes next. I knew Cicero would not want to travel with Marcus, knowing what the Dragonborn had done at Falkreath, and there needed to be a confirmation for Tamsyn's off-page explanation of what Astrid had done, or Cicero would never have accepted it. I love the little madman, but he's dangerous, and even I wouldn't be so foolish as to trust him very far.
That Cicero would fall for Argis doesn't seem to be beyond reasonable doubt; that Argis would reciprocate was so delightfully unpredictable, I had to put it in. Next up it's into Labyrinthian we go. Four go in; how many will come out?]