Chapter 30
[Author's Note: A guest recently pointed out that the song I quoted earlier in this story, "Scarborough Fair", was not copyrighted by Paul Simon, as it was taken from a much older song dating back to the 17th Century. While that may be true, the lyrics as I quoted them were taken from Paul Simon's version of the song, and as that version was copyrighted, I was merely giving credit where it was due.
Thank you to Speaker-to-Customers for your comments about the dai-katana. My husband – a wealth of information when it comes to all things military – confirmed your observation that the dai-katana is usually a two-handed weapon. However, since the game mechanics treats it as a one-handed sword, we'll just have to suspend belief for now and accept that Marcus is becoming strong enough to wield it one-handed along with the Blades sword. Not impossible, in reality, but this is fantasy.]
Lucia was delighted to be with her Papa again. And after all the scary, bad things that had happened, one would have thought she would be traumatized. Instead, she chattered like a magpie as they made their way back to the capitol of Skyrim.
"Nerves," Tamsyn murmured to Marcus, who smiled indulgently at his daughter's incessant questioning. "This is how she's dealing with it. Let her prattle."
"I was going to," Marcus whispered back. "I'm just delighted they're all okay."
Lucia was happy to see that Lydia hadn't been killed – though she was sorry she had to wear the eyepatch now.
"Does it hurt, Lydia?" she asked the Housecarl worriedly.
"No, little one, not anymore," the dark-haired Nord woman assured her.
"Is Cicero really out Uncle, Papa?" she asked in wonder, watching the jester juggle no less than five small balls in the air.
"Yes, chica, he really is," Marcus assured her, "in every way that matters." He had finally accepted the fact that he could not change Cicero's past, or indeed, the man's future. Cicero was and always would be an assassin. But he had more than proven his worth in helping Marcus rescue his children, so the Dragonborn was willing to overlook the more…eccentric aspects of Cicero's personality.
"Are you really the Arch-Mage?" she asked Tamsyn shyly.
Tamsyn smiled fondly down at the girl. "Yes, dear, I really am."
Lucia sighed sadly. "I wish I could do magic."
Tamsyn gave her an indulgent look. "But you can, Lucia!" she said. "Everyone has the potential. Some just decide to work harder at it."
"I can heal myself," Blaise announced, and his sisters looked at him in amazement.
"You can?" Lucia gaped.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Sofie demanded.
The older boy shrugged. "I guess it never really came up. I use it at the forge, sometimes, when I accidentally burn or cut myself."
"Blaise is Breton, like me," Tamsyn said. "It usually comes easier to us. But as I said, anyone can learn."
"Can you teach me?" Sofie asked eagerly.
"Me too! Me too!" Lucia said, hopping up and down.
Tamsyn looked at Marcus. "Well…only if your Papa says it's okay."
"I suppose a healing spell would be useful," he said. "But no Destruction spells right now and only if we can do it while we walk along. I'd like to get to Solitude and get rooms for the night."
So Tamsyn taught the girls the same simple healing spell Blaise already knew, as well as an Illusion spell to calm one's enemies. It was a little harder, but she thought it might help protect them in the future. She also told Lucia about her inborn gift of using her voice to do the same.
"It's known as the 'Voice of the Emperor'," she informed the little girl. "Your Papa has used it on many occasions to persuade people to see things his way. As you get older, you may find it very useful."
"Just forget I'm immune to your charms," Marcus growled playfully, scooping the little girl up for a hug as she giggled.
"Do I have any special powers?" Sofie asked shyly.
"Yes, you do," Lydia answered before Tamsyn could speak. "You're a Nord, like me, and as such, we don't feel the cold as harshly as some of the other races do." Argis nodded his confirmation.
"So that's why it didn't bother me as much in Windhelm," Sofie mused. "I mean, I would get cold, but if I got up and walked around, it went away quickly. Miss Niranye, Mister Quintus and Mister Aval would always ask me why I wasn't freezing to death when it didn't seem that cold to me."
"They're not Nords, like us," Argis smiled at her.
"What about me?" Blaise asked. "You said magic would come quicker to me because I'm Breton. Is that my special power?"
"Partly," Tamsyn replied. "Because you're a Breton, you should be able to resist some of the magic thrown at you at any time. But you also have a deeper power known as Dragonskin, which can help you absorb about half of it…but you can only call upon it once a day."
Marcus looked on fondly as Tamsyn worked with each of his children in turn, helping them to understand their unique powers and talents. He would never have known how to do this. He found himself following along with her instructions as she taught them a novice-level conjuration spell, Summon Familiar, and to everyone's surprise, managed to bring forth his own ghostly wolf.
"Papa!" Lucia cried delightedly. "You can do magic too!"
"Not as well as Tamsyn," he admitted, "and quite honestly, I didn't think I could!"
Tamsyn smirked indulgently. "I said anyone can do magic," she reminded him pertly.
Cicero seemed to be well-pleased with the turn of events, and with the children present kept his songs clean – except for "Black Widows in the Privy", in which even Marcus joined in singing – and his comments about stabbing people were held to a minimum. He juggled as they walked along and told jokes and stories of long ago, and the children hung on his every word.
"You were right," Marcus murmured to Tamsyn. "He is good with children."
Lucia grew tired very quickly, and had to be carried first by her Papa, then by Lydia, and finally by Argis, who cradled the child asleep in his arms for the last few miles as easily as if he was carrying a feather pillow. Lydia stole glances at him from time to time, and couldn't prevent a blush from staining her cheeks when she caught Tamsyn's knowing smirk.
They finally arrived at Solitude late in the evening, and after procuring rooms at the Winking Skeever and getting the children settled for the night, the adults sat together in the room Cicero and Argis were sharing to discuss what to do next. Marcus had firmly declared he was sleeping in his children's room. Let the Thalmor try anything!
"I'll need to retrieve Sadie from Dawnstar," Marcus said, "or send someone to fetch her and take her home."
"I can do that for you, Thane," Argis volunteered. Marcus nodded his thanks.
"Cicero will need to go home," said the motleyed jester. "There are….things he needs to do at home."
Tamsyn knew it involved caring for the Night Mother, but said nothing.
"Will you stay here with us tomorrow?" Marcus asked Tamsyn. "Lucia wants to visit the Bards' College again before we head home."
"I'll need to get back to Winterhold, soon" she said. "But I think I can afford to stay another day or so. I would really like to teach the children some basic Destruction spells, though. They need to know how to defend themselves," she added quickly when he frowned. "And it wouldn't hurt you to learn a few spells, either, Marcus," she added.
"I'm no mage," he protested. "I've got my armor and my sword. I'm good."
Tamsyn allowed a slight smile, but her face was serious once more as she said quietly, "There will come a time, Marcus, when you will have only yourself and what you know to get you through. Your fighting skills are much improved since Helgen, and you've learned a few new Shouts, but a few good Destruction and Restoration spells could help when you finally have to face down Alduin."
He nodded; she had a point. "Alright," he said. "When we get back to Whiterun, you can teach me a few spells along with the kids."
Tamsyn hesitated. "I…don't think I'll be going down to Whiterun," she said. "I really do need to get back to Winterhold. There's a lot of work to be done at the College."
Marcus felt his heart sink. She was leaving again. "I see," he said, determined not to show his disappointment. "College business and all that."
"Don't be ridiculous, Marcus," Tamsyn scolded. "It's not that I don't want to spend time getting to know your children. I do. But the Thalmor won't take this latest affront sitting down. I need to make sure we're training up battlemages. That's something Savos Aren never did. He was probably too afraid of offending the Aldmeri Dominion, but I have no such qualms. I need to recruit new students, set up classes in tactics, get the scholars off their dusty buns and have them start doing some meaningful research. I need to be there. It's not a question if the Aldmeri Dominion will launch another war, but rather, when, and Skyrim is just not ready to defend itself, no matter who wins the Civil War."
Marcus felt a twinge of guilt. "Sorry," he said, contritely. "I was being stupid again." He chuckled sardonically at himself. "It's a bad habit I'm slipping into. What did you mean about Skyrim not being able to defend itself?"
"Just that," Tamsyn said. "Look, it took the combined forces of the Empire to bring the Dominion to a standstill twenty-odd years ago. If you've read any of the histories here—"
"I have," he said, and Lydia and Argis nodded.
"Cicero was there," the little man said with a troubled look in his eyes.
"Then you know that it took most of Cyrodiil, Skyrim, High Rock, and Hammerfell to withstand the Dominion. Only by attempting some rather risky strategic maneuvers was the Emperor able to reclaim the Imperial City and beat down the Altmer alliance. If the Stormcloaks win this war, and thus their independence from the Empire, it will be a hollow victory, because they will be too weak to hold off a concentrated assault by the next Aldmeri invasion. Even if the Empire wins, the Dominion will make its move sooner rather than later, while both the Legions and Skyrim are still weakened after this protracted war."
"And if I negotiate a truce?" asked Marcus, the thought occurring to him that this might be a viable answer.
"They may hold off for a time, but the longer the truce drags out, the more restless the combatants will get. Sooner or later, one side will violate the treaty, and then it will be business as usual in Skyrim." Privately Tamsyn was pleased to see how much consideration Marcus had already given to the problem.
"That's one thing we Nords love to do…fight," Argis rumbled, shaking his head in disgust.
"And you think battlemages will give Skyrim the upper hand?" Lydia asked doubtfully.
"It certainly won't hurt," Tamsyn said. "Right now, because of the Great War, the Nords are highly suspicious of magic in general. It's a rather narrow-minded view, actually, because if you're going to fight the Aldmeri Dominion, you'd better have magic on your side. They have no qualms about using it in combat against their enemies. That's one of the things that decimated whole battalions twenty-some years ago. If I can start building up trained battlemages at the College, and recruiting more talented students, we'll be that much better prepared for when the Dominion strikes again. I just wish I knew if I have enough time to make it happen."
"I might be able to help," Marcus said thoughtfully.
"Really?" Tamsyn blinked. "How?"
"I picked up that journal, remember?" he said. "I haven't read it all yet, but I will. And there were other papers Cicero grabbed for me before we left the Embassy today. I'm hoping there will be something useful there, too."
"It's a start," the Arch-Mage nodded. "If only we could organize the Forsworn into a viable fighting force. Right now they're too scattered and disorganized to be dependable. And they certainly wouldn't fight for either side. They'd just melt into the hills and wait for the chaos to subside before picking over the leavings."
"If I could get the Reach made an independent Province of the Empire, with its own King and form of government, we'd have the resources of the Reachfolk to add to any fight against the Dominion. I'm pretty confident they'll fight for whoever has given them their country back. I'm told they have a built-in resistance to magic, and I know they're efficient guerilla fighters."
Tamsyn gave him a winning smile that warmed him to his core. "That would be amazing, if you could pull that off!" she said. Then her face fell. "But only the High King or Queen of Skyrim can authorize a seceding of land like that, and it would have to be recognized by the Emperor himself. Until the war is resolved, there's no point in counting on that. I take it, then, that you didn't kill Madanach?"
"Was that an option?" he asked, shooting her a warning glance. To his knowledge, the others still didn't know he and Tamsyn hadn't been born in Tamriel.
"Depends on where your sympathies lay," she replied, cryptically, shrugging.
"Well, right now, they're with the Reachfolk," he answered. "I'm just not sure where to go from here. I have to kill Alduin first, but he tucked his tail between his legs and buggered off. I don't know where he's gone." He gave her a keen look. "You know, don't you?"
"Of course sweet Tamsyn knows!" Cicero declared. "She's a Seer, after all!" He had a very smug look on his face, as if he knew something the others didn't.
At Tamsyn's nod, Marcus said wryly, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me?"
"It won't hurt anything if I do," Tamsyn said. "It won't change your options. Alduin has fled to Sovngarde."
"And while he's there, he's devouring the souls of the honored dead," Marcus frowned, remembering what Esbern had told him. He didn't like that at all.
"Yes," Tamsyn said. "That's why this Civil War has to end, one way or the other."
"And if the war ends, the Dominion attacks." Marcus sighed in exasperation. "I'm open to suggestion. I'm not really sure what to do next. If I join the Legion to bring the war to an end, more souls get sent to Sovngarde. If I try to broker a peace treaty, we may end up with a worse mess than we started."
"You have some choices to make, Marcus," Tamsyn said softly. "It won't be easy. Tiid bo amativ. 'Time flows ever onward.' So you'll need to figure out something soon."
He wasn't surprised she would know that phrase. "Paarthurnax told me I should speak to Balgruuf about using Dragonsreach to trap one of Alduin's allies. Somehow, I can't see Balgruuf letting me do that while Ulfric Stormcloak is parked on his eastern border." He felt guilty that he hadn't taken Tamsyn to meet the ancient dragon, as he'd promised. One more thing he'd have to make up to her.
The Arch-Mage shook her head. "He won't. Not until the war is resolved one way or the other."
Marcus considered this for several minutes. "It looks like a cease-fire might be the better option," he mused. "What would happen to Skyrim then?" he asked.
"Holds might change hands," Tamsyn explained. "Ulfric wants Markarth, because of the silver mines."
"Over my dead and decomposing body!" Argis growled, but Lydia put her hand on his arm to shush him.
"No!" Marcus declared. "That's never going to happen. The Reach has to be independent!"
"Well, then, you're going to have a difficult time negotiating a truce," Tamsyn said. "Because that's the major bargaining chip. It's the one thing Ulfric will take in order to agree to not attack Whiterun while you do your thing. If the other Holds do change hands, you'll be dealing with potentially different Jarls unless and until the war is finally resolved."
"What do you mean?" Marcus frowned.
"Haafingar, Eastmarch and Whiterun won't change," the Breton girl told him, frowning as she called the facts to mind. "Elisif will still be Jarl here, and Balgruuf will still be Jarl in Whiterun, because so far, he's been neutral in all of this. Eastmarch remains in Ulfric's hands. But depending how the Holds are divvied up, Kralder might replace Korir, if Winterhold goes over to the Imperials. That can only be good for me, because Korir takes a dim view of mages in general. If the Reach is given to the Stormcloaks, Thongvor Silver-Blood replaces Igmund."
"He can't," Marcus said flatly. "He's dead. He died in the jailbreak." Clearly news of this hadn't made it as far as Winterhold yet.
Tamsyn blinked. "Really? Well, that departs from – from my knowledge." Marcus knew she'd been about to reference the game, but caught herself. "So that means the High King or Queen of Skyrim would put a new Jarl in place. But there isn't one right now until the Moot decides who replaces Torygg, Elisif's deceased husband. And the Moot won't meet until the War is resolved one way or another."
"So we come back to that," Marcus groused. "What about the other Holds?"
"Well, Brina Merelis replaces Skald the Elder in Dawnstar if it becomes an Imperial hold; Siddgeir in Falkreath gets replaced by his uncle, whom he deposed, if Falkreath goes to the Stormcloaks. In Hjaalmarch there's a woman named Sorli the Builder who becomes Jarl if Idgrod Ravencrone is forced to step down. She's owns Rockwallow Mine near Stonehills."
"Cicero is amazed at the Arch-Mage's gift!" the jester murmured.
"I've never met anyone before who could foretell the future," Lydia whispered back.
"And what about the Rift?" Marcus asked.
"Maven Black-Briar becomes Jarl, if the Rift goes over to the Empire."
"What?" Marcus spluttered. "Are you kidding me? She's got all kinds of ties to organized crime!"
"So what makes her any different than the politicians we left behind?" Tamsyn asked wryly.
"That's unacceptable!" he fumed.
"Be that as it may," Tamsyn said, "you're going to end up with a situation you won't like no matter how you slice up the Skyrim pie."
Marcus brooded about that for several minutes. "Nothing I can do to change any of that?" he asked finally.
"Oh, I'm sure there are lots of things you can do to change it," the Arch-Mage replied. "Just know that if you go outside my knowledge of the – future – there's little I can do to help you."
He stewed for a few more minutes. "I suppose I'll have to throw my lot in with the Empire," he said. "The only way Balgruuf is going to let me use Dragonsreach is if I take care of Ulfric for him. I hate to have to send more souls to Sovngarde, but I just can't see allowing Ulfric to accrue more power than he currently has."
"My sword is yours, Thane," Argis volunteered, and Lydia echoed, "Mine, too!" Marcus smiled at both Housecarls gratefully.
Tamsyn nodded soberly. "It's a difficult decision to have to make," she acknowledged. "But if you truly feel you can't bring yourself to be in the same room as Ulfric Stormcloak, this may be the only way."
"And what happens then?" he asked. "If I'm able to bring the war to an end, what then?"
"Then you'll be able to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach and try to convince him to turn traitor."
"How will that help, if Alduin has gone to Sovngarde?" Marcus inquired. "I mean, as far as I know, only brave Nords who die in combat get to go there. I'm not a Nord, and I have no intention of dying, if I can help it."
"You're Dragonborn," Tamsyn said firmly. "That makes the difference. As for the rest, I'll let you know more the closer we get to it. Just trust me when I say you need to capture that dragon alive or you'll never get to Alduin. Unless you know how to fly, that is," she smiled. "And I'm still working on that spell."
"Seriously?" he looked at her, grinning. "You're seriously trying to create a flying spell?"
"Why not?" she shrugged. "It's a simple form of Alteration, after all. Change the aerodynamics enough to allow for lift and propulsion. A form of reversed gravity combined with forward thrust. I'm not there yet, but I'll get it. I'm exploring an enchantment as well as a spell. One of them has to work."
Marcus stared at her for a long moment in admiration. "You're one amazing lady, you know that?" he murmured. She colored slightly as she stared back with a whispered, "Thank you."
For a long moment the simply looked into each other's eyes, lost to everything around them.
I want to kiss her, he thought.
Cicero cleared his throat.
"If Cicero and Argis are to leave for Dawnstar early, we should be getting some sleep!"
The Dragonborn and the Arch-Mage pulled apart, completely unaware they'd been closing the gap between them. Three pairs of eyes looked on in knowing amusement, and Tamsyn jumped to her feet.
"That's a good idea, Cicero," she said, a little too brightly, cheeks flaming. "We should all get some sleep!" She fled to the room she shared with Lydia, the Nord woman close on her heels. Before she closed the door behind her, Lydia leaned back in and gave Argis and Cicero a sassy wink.
"Told ya!" she grinned.
"Told you what?" Marcus demanded, irritated.
"Shouldn't my dear Brother also be seeking his bed?" Cicero chortled.
"Told you what?" Marcus advanced in mock-threat, but Cicero knew he was safe.
"She likes you, Thane," Argis grinned. "She just won't admit it. She's waiting for you to make a move."
"Cicero thinks his Brother might need an Amulet of Mara."
"I've got one at home," Marcus said dismissively. "What good would that do? It's just for Restoration magic. That's what Farengar said."
Argis gaped in delighted disbelief, and Cicero began to chortle.
"What? That's what it does, right?"
It was some time before either the big Nord or the little Imperial could calm down enough from their hysterical laughter to explain to him exactly what the wearing of an Amulet of Mara in Skyrim signified.
And Farengar knew, Marcus fumed. He had to have known. That bastard! I owe him one for this!
Tamsyn awoke early the next morning and crawled out of bed as quietly as she could, but Lydia snapped awake.
"Are you leaving us?" the Housecarl asked, rising and gathering her armor together.
"No!" the Arch-Mage replied, a bit too quickly. "I promised the girls I'd teach them a little magic, didn't I?" But she didn't convince the Nord woman.
"Trying to avoid my Thane?" she asked guilelessly.
Tamsyn scowled. "Why would you think that?"
Lydia's eyes crinkled in amusement. "When are you going to admit you're attracted to him?" she grinned.
Tamsyn didn't look up. "I already have," she whispered. In a normal voice, she continued, "But there's too much other stuff in the way right now. He doesn't need this complication in his life." She splashed water on her face from the bowl on the dresser, then stepped aside to give Lydia room.
Lydia rolled her eye. "You've been in Skyrim for how long now?" she queried, adjusting the eyepatch. "You should know us well enough by now to know that we don't really have prolonged courtships here. Life's too hard and short for that."
"I do know that, Lydia," Tamsyn said. "But until Marcus has done what he was brought here to do, he doesn't need someone tagging along, getting in his way."
"Is that what you think you do?" the dark-haired woman asked shrewdly. "Maybe what he needs is the security of knowing there's someone who loves him unconditionally."
"He has his children," Tamsyn said, shrugging her hood into place.
Lydia compressed her lips. "That's not the same thing, and you know it."
"Yes, Lydia," she said honestly. "I do know it. But while I will admit I'm attracted to your Thane, I haven't seen any signs that he returns the feelings." Except last night, she thought privately, but she kept that to herself.
"Then maybe I see more with my one good eye than you do than you do with both of yours," Lydia observed, securing her armor into place.
Tamsyn chose not to answer that, and the two women finished dressing and went downstairs to see if the menfolk were awake yet. Argis and Cicero were already in the common room, and Cicero was munching on a sweetroll.
"Are you two heading back to Dawnstar together?" Lydia asked.
"Yeah," Argis said. "Soon as Cicero's done eating."
"Cicero can take his sweetroll with him, dear Argis," the jester said. "He only wished to bid farewell to the children before we go."
Marcus and the children emerged shortly after, and Tamsyn noticed immediately that he had trimmed his scruffy beard so that it now lay neatly against his jawline, combined with the moustache and goatee on his chin that he preferred. Though the Blades armor was scuffed and damaged in a few places, he still took her breath away. With a determined squelching of lurid thoughts, she focused on bidding farewell to Cicero and Argis.
There were many hugs and kisses from the girls for "Uncle Cicero", and Blaise shook his hand formally. "I hope someday I can fight as well as you and Dad," he said.
"Your humble uncle will be more than happy to teach you a few things," Cicero promised.
Marcus shot a look of alarm at Tamsyn, who had the audacity to laugh. "Learn from the best, I always say," she giggled cheekily.
Finally the Housecarl and the last Son of Sithis were on their way back to Dawnstar. Marcus bought his children clean clothing at Radiant Raiments and insisted they all go back to the inn to clean up and change. The clothes they were wearing were the same ones they'd been kidnapped in, and all three children looked unkempt. Once they were presentable, Marcus asked them what they'd like to do.
Lucia begged to go down to the Bards' College again, so they spent a couple pleasant hours listening to the performers. Illdi let Lucia play her lute for a little bit, and even Viarmo remarked she had some talent, albeit raw and untrained.
"Give her a few years with us, and she'll be a virtuoso," he said.
"I think I'd prefer she grow up a bit first," Marcus replied.
"Of course, of course," Viarmo agreed.
Blaise wanted to see the smithy, so while Marcus took him there, Tamsyn and Lydia took the girls to Angelina's Aromatics.
"Welcome to Angeline's Aromatics!" the elderly proprietress greeted them warmly. "If you're looking for a poultice or a potion, I probably have it."
"This is a lot bigger than Arcadia's Cauldron," Lucia said.
"Well," her sister replied, "Solitude is a lot bigger than Whiterun."
Tamsyn came over to the counter to examine the deathbell on display.
"Excuse me," said Angeline, "did I hear your daughter say you were from Whiterun?"
"My what?" Tamsyn blinked. She glanced at the two girls, who grinned and giggled in delight. "No! They're not—I mean I'm not—"
"She's not our mama," Sofie said shyly, "but it would be great if she was!"
"I think so, too!" Lucia chimed in.
"Thank you, girls," Tamsyn said, embarrassed, "I'm flattered. I really am. But you wanted to ask a question?" She turned swiftly back to Angeline Morrard.
"I just wondered if you might have met my daughter, Fura," the old woman said, hesitantly. "She's with the Imperial Legion stationed near Whiterun, but I haven't heard anything from her for such a long time. I was hoping maybe you knew her. I've tried to get Captain Aldis to tell me something, but he hasn't yet."
"I'll see if I can find something out," Tamsyn said, cheeks still burning. "Lydia? Could you stay with the girls, please? I'll be right back!" Not waiting for an answer, she fled the shop.
Do I really look old enough to have a daughter Sofie's age? she thought with a mixture of pique and amusement.
Captain Aldis was easy to find, but not so easy to extract information from.
"Generally posting information is need to know only," he said shortly when she asked him about Fura Morrard.
"Captain Aldis," Tamsyn glared, "I would think that as her mother, Angeline needs to know!"
"I…well…uh…" the Captain floundered, then let out a heavy sigh. "I've been trying to find a way to tell her," he finally admitted. "Her daughter was sent to Whiterun Hold. The skirmishes there have been violent. The Whiterun legate, he needed to know the Stormcloak positions, so he sent out a party to scout the area. They happened upon a large force…I'm told none of them made it back." He ran a hand through his hair. "Private Morrard, Angeline's daughter, was in that scouting party. She needs to be told."
"And just when were you going to find the time in your busy schedule to ease that poor woman's suffering?" Tamsyn fumed.
"What?"
"Do you have any idea how worried she's been?" Tamysyn berated him. "How many sleepless nights she's spent wondering if her daughter was alright?"
"Now look here—"
"You've known about this for how long and you still haven't told her?" Tamsyn went on, relentless. "Would you treat your own mother this way?"
"I couldn't find the words—"
"You mean you couldn't find the balls!" Tamsyn shot back scathingly. "Honestly, and they say that women are the weaker of the sexes! I'll tell her! They should never have entrusted a boy to do a woman's job!"
Captain Aldis' face went red and then purple with anger, but Tamsyn had already whirled around and was stalking back in the direction of the alchemy shop.
"Good on you!" a female guard whispered to her as she passed.
Tamsyn allowed a small smile, but it faded quickly as she returned to the alchemy shop. She entered and murmured to Lydia, "The news isn't good. Take the girls outside, okay?"
Lydia nodded and herded the girls outside while Tamsyn broke the sorrowful news to a grieving mother. She sat with her for several minutes, just holding the woman while she wept, until Vivienne Onis, Angeline's niece, entered the shop.
"I heard," she told Tamsyn quietly. "Thank you for staying with her. I'll handle things now."
Tamsyn nodded and left the shop, rejoining Lydia, Sofie and Lucia outside.
"What happened, Miss Tamsyn?" Sofie asked.
"She got some bad news, dear," Tamsyn explained without going into detail.
"Will she be okay?" Lucia asked, worry etched on her face. She was such an empathic child!
"In time, I think she will be," the Breton girl replied. "Let's go find your Papa and Blaise, okay?"
Marcus and Blaise were still with Beirand when the ladies arrived, and Marcus was stripped to the waist while he repaired his armor. Lydia noticed Tamsyn's swiftly indrawn breath and hid a private smile.
Marcus finished up and shrugged back into his armor, with Blaise helping him, and gave Lydia the afternoon off, giving her an opportunity to spend her time as she chose. She agreed to meet them back at the Skeever in a few hours.
Because the children begged for it, and Marcus agreed, Tamsyn agreed to teach them a few more spells. She led the way to a quiet part of town near the Hall of the Dead. There was a long, grassy area with just a few leeks and potatoes cropping up here and there as an afterthought. Only the occasional guard or some of the local children playing tag came through this area.
"Alright, there are some rocks to sit on, or there's some nice grassy spots here," she said. "Sit down and get comfortable. You too, Marcus," she ordered.
"Yes ma'am," he quipped, and she shot him a warning look. Behave, it said.
For the next couple of hours, Tamsyn taught the four of them some basic, novice level spells; Candlelight, Oakflesh, Clairvoyance and Lesser Ward. Blaise caught on quickly, and while the girls struggled a bit with the ward, they soon got the hang of it.
"No Destruction spells?" Marcus teased. He had followed along with the children under Tamsyn's tutelage, and was pleased to find how easy it actually was to cast magic, though he knew his spells weren't nearly as strong as hers.
"You didn't say I could," she reminded him, "and I didn't think you wanted your kids to burn down Breezehome."
"But you'll teach me a few, right?" he asked, sliding closer. "Something along the lines of…private lessons?"
"Maybe," she said primly. "If you behave yourself."
"How do you want me to behave?" he whispered in her ear, and grinned wickedly when she blushed to the roots of her hair.
"I think that's enough for one day," Tamsyn said, leaping to her feet. "It's getting late."
"Are we going home now, Dad?" Blaise asked.
"Yes, Papa!" Lucia said, jumping up and down. "I wanna go home now!"
"It will be nice to sleep in my own bed again," Sofie added.
Yes, Marcus realized, they would have to go home. Their idyllic day was almost at an end. Argis would be heading back down to Whiterun with Sadie tomorrow, and he would have to resume his quest to find a way to kill Alduin once and for all.
What would Tamsyn do? Would she return to Winterhold? She'd promised to teach him a few more spells. Would she honor that promise?
I don't want her to leave, he thought. I know she's the Arch-Mage, and has duties there that demand her attention, but I don't care.
While the children chattered all the way back to the inn, Tamsyn was quiet, and Marcus brooded on his own thoughts. More than anything, he wanted Tamsyn to stay with him and the children, but with his life in chaos right now, he didn't think it would be fair to her. Maybe when this is over, he sighed to himself. It was starting to become a mantra for his life.
I really shouldn't be doing this, Tamsyn thought to herself. I need to get back to Winterhold. Why am I going to Whiterun instead?
"Because you're a sucker for a handsome face and deep brown eyes," she muttered to herself, tying off her backpack. "It's what got you into trouble with George."
But George had left her for a much younger woman, and Randall and Sarah were much too busy with their own lives to think about their mother.
Marcus is different, she thought now. He's a good man. He genuinely wants to do the right thing.
Yes, he was different. It was her own self-loathing that made her think she wasn't good enough for him, though he certainly seemed to have thoughts to the contrary, if his teasing was any indication.
Mara help me! she thought. I want to be with him. All I can think about is jumping his bones, but I'm the Arch-Mage now. I have responsibilities!
But if the Goddess of Love was listening, She didn't answer. It might have been the bit about jumping his bones, she thought wryly. That was really more Dibella's bailiwick. Tamsyn sighed, picked up her pack and headed downstairs to join up with the others. She didn't miss the look of relief in Marcus' eyes when she finally appeared, though he said nothing.
He's afraid I'm going to bail on him, she thought.
"Ready to go?" she asked brightly.
Thaer took them back to Whiterun, and the children were delighted to see Sadie back in her stable. Blaise ran ahead to let Adrianne know he was back, unharmed, and would be able to return to work the next day.
Sofie and Lucia tugged on Tamsyn's hands, practically dragging her to Breezehome to show it off. The Arch-Mage noticed the improvements right away.
"Plantings, a balcony, additional space upstairs," she commented to Marcus. "You've been busy, I see."
"Wait 'til you see the inside," he grinned. "Let me give you the ten septim tour."
She approved immediately of the re-location of the fireplace. "I was always glad the game didn't actually set you on fire if you stumbled into the center firepit," she murmured.
Tamsyn let the girls show her around upstairs and down until Lydia told them to wash up and help her with the supper. Argis went to bring in more firewood, and Marcus led Tamsyn downstairs to the new basement area where the children weren't permitted to go. He noticed immediately that Argis and Lydia had swept and straightened up down here after the Thalmor invasion.
"Did you lose anything irreplaceable?" Tamsyn asked.
"Not really," he replied. "It was mainly weapons and armor I liked, but knew I probably wouldn't use. It's the books I miss the most, though."
"Urag might be able to help you," Tamsyn said.
"I've already talked to him," Marcus replied. "He told me to give him a list. He even offered to buy this Elder Scroll from me, but I wasn't sure if I'd still need it."
Tamsyn shook her head. "You won't. You can sell it to him if you want to. Give me the list of books you're missing," she added. "I'll give it to him when I get back."
"Do you have to go back?" he asked, moving closer, putting a hand on her arm.
And there was that again, she thought. She wanted to stay, but she also wanted to remain at the College, and right now she couldn't see an easy way to manage both; which meant she'd have to return to Winterhold.
"Until this is all over," she said quietly, not looking at him, "yes, I have to go back. I'm sorry, Marcus."
"Will it ever be over?" he asked, letting his hand fall.
"Eventually we'll get to the end of the game," Tamsyn said. "But this life will keep going. And we'll have to deal with the fallout from some of the choices we've made."
"Such as?"
Tamsyn blew out a sigh and sat down on a nearby chair, motioning him to take the other.
"Let's consider the choices facing you," she said.
"Okay," he nodded, pulling up a chair. "Go ahead."
"First of all, there's the situation with Alduin. You need to go after him and destroy him once and for all. And right now, you're not strong enough to do that."
"I'd like to think I'm better than I was when we first came here," he said defensively.
"You are," she agreed. "But not strong enough to face down Alduin. You see, it's not just the World-Eater you have to worry about."
"Oh?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's everything that stands between you and him before you even get to the portal in Skuldafn Temple. I'm talking about the biggest, toughest Draugr Deathlords you've ever had to face; scourges and wights, too, with their spells. There will be dragons there as well, and a lich-lord." She shuddered, remembering Morokei.
Marcus thought about that. "All of that?" he asked.
Tamsyn nodded. "All of that to soften you up before you even get there. And the worst of it is that you'll be alone. You'll only have yourself to rely upon. How many Shouts do you know, Marcus?"
He shrugged. "I'm not sure. A dozen, maybe."
"And of those Shouts," she continued, "how many of them do you know all three Words to?"
He could see her point. "Two," he said. "Okay, so maybe I need to find a few more Word Walls."
"How are your smithing skills?"
"What does that have to do with it?" he asked, before realizing it was a stupid question. "Never mind," he said. "Don't answer that. You're saying that my armor and weapons aren't as good as they could be."
"If you can't make Dragonbone or Daedric weapons and armor, then no, it isn't," Tamsyn said. "You could probably get by with lesser equipment, if your fighting skills were top-drawer. And I know you don't know many spells."
"Just what you've taught me," he said.
"You'll only have what you can carry with you, too," Tamsyn continued. "If you run out of healing and stamina potions, you can't expect to find much inside the Temple, if you even get that far. You should also consider potions to enhance your fighting skills, or the strength of your armor, or your ability to move around unheard and unseen. You'll have to work on your lockpicking skills, too, to get through some areas."
"Okay, okay," he sighed. "I get it. I'm not as strong as I thought I was."
"Strength is measured in more than your physical capabilities," Tamsyn told him. Marcus realized he'd thought the same thing to himself not long ago.
"So what are you suggesting?" he asked now.
"Well, if you're going to go after Word Walls, you'll need to find dragons and take their souls. The Blades can help you with that. But while you do that, the Civil War still rages."
"Yeah," he said. "And whether I commit to one side or the other, there may be a changing of the Jarls. I don't like that at all. Especially if it means Balgruuf gets deposed. The man's been nothing but kindness itself to me since I got here."
"Then there's always the option of a cease-fire," Tamsyn said. "It would at least keep people from dying while you do other things."
"But won't Balgruuf expect me to jump on this whole 'finding a dragon' thing as soon as that's hammered out?" he asked. "And where would we host such a conclave?"
"The Greybeards might, if you asked," Tamsyn said. "But you'd really have to persuade them."
Marcus was silent for several minutes as he turned things over in his mind.
"Joining the Legion wouldn't be too horribly bad," he said slowly. "It just that I hate the thought of Maven Black-Briar becoming Jarl of Riften. Isn't there some way around that?"
Tamsyn shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of, at least, not in the game there wasn't. Maven's in real tight with the Empire, and she'll be their first choice as Jarl if Riften goes over. Unless, of course, she does something stupid between now and then to fall out of favor. And Maven never does anything stupid."
Marcus remembered the journal upstairs, as well as the other papers Cicero had found at Northwatch Keep that he hadn't had time to look through. Maybe now would be a good time to do just that.
"You're already plotting, aren't you?" she accused, seeing the calculating look in his eyes.
He grinned at her. "Hey, if I'm going to be an Imperial, plots are what we live for!"
Tamsyn stayed in Whiterun only one more day, residing at the Bannered Mare, before returning to Winterhold. Before leaving, she taught the children and their father the three basic Destruction spells, Flames, Frostbite and Sparks, after warning the children only to use them outdoors, and never against their friends.
"Spellbooks can teach you new spells," she told Marcus. "Once you open it, you're compelled to read it, and the magic is absorbed into you. The book is destroyed in the process."
"I've had that happen to me on rare occasions," Marcus mused. "But I thought there was something weird going on with the book."
Tamsyn laughed. "No, you probably know a few spells you just haven't tried, or don't have the magicka pool big enough to draw upon. Think about it sometime before you drop off to sleep at night, and you might remember which ones you already know."
The children were sorry to see her go, and Lucia cuddled up for a big hug before putting her little arms around Tamsyn's neck and kissing her cheek.
"Good-bye, Miss Tamsyn," she said softly. "You'll come back to see us again, won't you?"
"I will," the Arch-Mage said solemnly, feeling a stinging in her eyes and a tightness in her throat. But she didn't commit to when that might be. She hugged Sofie and shook Blaise's hand, then turned to the Dragonborn. "I'll be sure to give Urag your list when I get back," she promised Marcus in as neutral a voice as she could muster.
"And I'll let you know how things go in Riften," he said. "I'll walk with you down to the stables."
A commotion near the gate drew their attention, and a courier rushed past them, headed up the hill to Dragonsreach.
"Well, what do you know?" Marcus quipped. "He's not looking for me for once!"
"Marcus!" Adrianne called, motioning them over. "Did you hear?"
"Hear what?" he asked, as he and Tamsyn approached.
"The Thalmor Ambassador, Elenwen, has been murdered!"
A cold fear clutched his gut, and he looked at Tamsyn. It wasn't us, I swear it! his eyes pleaded with her.
"Murdered, you say?" he managed to ask, nonchalantly.
"Yes!" Adrianne nodded. "And by one of her own servants! A Khajiit woman, they say. She went on a rampage and killed at least a dozen Thalmor, including the Ambassador!"
"Really?" Tamsyn breathed. "Did they catch her?"
"Oh, yes, I think so," Adrianne said. "They've been keeping the details hushed up as they always do, but word on the street is that they've shipped her off to the Summerset Isles to answer for her crimes. The Dominion will have to send a new ambassador now."
"Interesting news, Adrianne," Marcus mused. "Thanks!"
They headed toward the gate to the stables.
"What do you think it means?" Tamsyn whispered worriedly. "I was afraid at first it might have been Cicero, until Adrianne said it was a Khajiit."
"Unless Cicero somehow managed to slip back to the Embassy after he parted company with Argis in Dawnstar. But there hasn't been enough time for that to have happened."
"What could have caused the woman to go berserk like that?" Tamsyn wondered.
"Well, don't forget, we can account for at least ten of those deaths," he reminded her.
"I wasn't even thinking of the death toll, actually," Tamsyn remarked. "What would cause one of their servants to turn on Elenwen the way she did?"
"You mean aside from the fact that Elenwen was a cold-hearted, psychopathic bitch?" Marcus asked sarcastically. "I could see it happening. Some people just have their breaking point. Besides, I have a pretty good idea what might have instigated the act." He told her about the Ebony Blade.
Tamsyn whistled. "Marcus, you do realize that the Blade will be confiscated and returned to the Summerset Isles, don't you?"
"Yeah," he muttered. "I was hoping to retrieve it while we were there, but had no time and no idea where to start looking."
Tamsyn looked at him in horror. "You weren't actually going to keep that evil thing, were you?"
"Only to keep others safe," he replied. "Mephala knew she couldn't sway me. I'd already threatened to chuck it down the Red Mountain if she misbehaved."
Tamsyn went into paroxysms of laughter. For several minutes she giggled and chuckled, doubled over by the side of the road. Finally she wiped her eyes and gasped. "Oh my gods, Marcus! I wish I could have been there to hear you tell off a Daedric Prince! No wonder she slipped away from you at the first opportunity!"
"Yeah, don't remind me," he said sourly.
"But don't you see what this means?" Tamsyn pressed him.
"It means the Dominion will have a cancer eating at them," he said. "Yeah, I figured that out already. Who knows? It might even work in our favor. But I would still like to have kept a firm watch on that Blade."
"Well, there's nothing you can do about it now, except hope – as you stated – that it will work in our favor."
They were at the carriage now, and Marcus never wanted anything less than to watch her leave. He placed her bag on the seat, then turned to help her into the wagon. But as he put his hands on her waist to give her a boost, he pulled her close instead.
"I'm not letting you leave without doing this first," he said, and claimed her lips with his own.
In her long, previous life, Tamsyn had been kissed hundreds of times. Most were very nice, and one or two had actually left her breathless. None of them had been from George. Marcus' kiss swept them all away.
Oh, yeah, he knows how to kiss, was her last coherent thought. Time seemed to stand still while he held her there, and she wouldn't have put it past him to have used his Slow Time Shout to prolong the mutual enjoyment.
"I can't wait around here forever," Bjorlam grumbled, and Marcus finally released her.
"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he murmured.
"Come up and see me at Winterhold," Tamsyn whispered, grinning, "and you can do it again!"
Despite the ache in his heart at knowing she was leaving for who knew how long, Marcus was still chuckling when the carriage pulled away.
[Author's Note: A bit of a slow chapter this time after all the excitement before, but every once in a while some character development is needed, and some set-up is required as the story moves forward. Marcus heads to Riften next to talk to explore some options.]