Hey guys. Sorry for the long delay. Summer vacation has not been kind to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter either way.

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The pain was so severe it woke her.

Karma wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but it was obvious that she wasn't going to get back to sleep. She sat up on her bedroll, squinting at her injured wrist in the dim light from the mostly dead coals. It was swollen, tender to the touch. A curse slipped past her lips.

"Problems, dearest Listener?"

Karma was almost startled at the voice, turning to look at the jester. He was dressed again, red hair damp under his cap. He was watching her from across the fire pit, amber eyes smoldering. It occurred to her that she'd never seen the Keeper sleep. He was always awake when she went to sleep and he always seemed to be up before she woke. It would explain the dark circles beneath his eyes. Perhaps the jester just didn't sleep much.

The Redguard shrugged her shoulders, "My wrist. I think I need to bind it."

That would keep her from doing any more damage while it healed up. A cold compress might help as well, though she wasn't sure how to accomplish that long term. It would be difficult enough riding with her wrist throbbing as it was…and when she gently pulled back on her fingers, she discovered that using her bow would be completely impossible. She'd have to rely completely on her dominant hand for a while.

Cicero knelt down in front of her, "Let Cicero see," he said lightly, taking her arm. He was careful not to jar her wrist as he pulled her hand towards him. His gloves were rough against her skin. The jester longed to touch her, skin to skin, but Cicero ignored him, focusing on the swollen mess before him. He has to guess that her dark skin was brushed with purple. He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her, "The Listener has to be more careful. What will Cicero do if she gets broken?"

Karma huffed at him, "The idiot pulled me from my horse. What do you expect?"

The Keeper just cackled and turned away, dragging his own small pack over. He tore up a cotton tunic that was supposed to be a spare, though he never wore anything besides his motley. His hands were deft as he wrapped cotton strips about her wrist, tight but not enough to cause excess pain. Karma cautiously wiggled her fingers a bit after he was done,

"…how'd you get to be so good at this?" she asked him, giving him a suspicious side-eye.

"Sweet Cicero has gotten his fair share of injuries," responded the jester with an almost irritated pout. Karma snorted with amusement and tended to the pain, rubbing her wrist gingerly. She let out a hiss between her teeth – the sound helped relieve the throbbing ache, just a bit.

"Let's try not to get into too much trouble on the rest of the journey, alright?" she said lowly.

Cicero agreed with a nod.

The rest of the way to Riften was easy, if not pleasant. Despite the constant pain in Karma's left wrist, they made good time. The sun was high in the sky when the town came into sight, a cluster of brown buildings against an equally brown background. Karma's mouth twisted in distaste at the sight of it. She hated Riften. She despised being in the frozen town of Windhelm, yet she'd rather be there than in Riften. The Redguard hadn't had many good encounters within the city and she was always one to hold a grudge. She could have overlooked the guards trying to swindle money out of her if she hadn't been accosted by a man right inside, telling her that she didn't belong there and needed to leave. Hell, she could have brushed off that too if she hadn't have been tricked into taking the heat of a theft by a member of the elusive Thieves' Guild. A night in jail hadn't exactly done much in brewing up a good mood, so when she'd found her way to the Guild hideout down in the Ratway and stolen the item that had been slipped into her pocket to frame her (as compensation of course) she hadn't garnered a warm welcome or a friendly departure. Her reception in the Ratway when she had been sent there by Astrid had garnered a little more of a welcome, though it was hardly more than cordial. Mallory had treated her like she was a child despite her then-newly-obvious connection with Dark Brotherhood, but he'd told her what she needed to know and sent her back to Astrid.

Despite all that, Karma wasn't too worried about being received in bad temper. She had Cicero at her back, which was enough of a safety net for her to feel completely at ease even with her injury preventing her from using her best weapon. Even so, leaving Shadowmere and Cicero's mare tied under the shade of trees and approaching the gate on foot brought back some unpleasant memories. The guards eyed them as they passed. Well, mostly they eyed Cicero for his strange dress. There weren't any merry-men in Skyrim. And even if Cicero was a jester, he wasn't the type that a lot of people would enjoy to meet.

Cicero's whistling echoed off the walls of the Ratway when they descended. The twisting tunnels were confusing, which was why the Thieves' Guild had set up down there. Guards that tried to pursue them down into the labyrinth often never came out again. Usually they fell prey to the people who lived down here; diseased, mentally unsound, and murderous. Karma laughed inwardly as the list drifted through her head. If those were the three requirements, she fit two out of three and therefore she fit right in. She sobered pretty quickly after the flit of humor. She didn't want to think about living down in these damp, cramped corridors. Even the ruined Dawnstar Sanctuary was more hospitable than this rank place. With her sound sense of direction, Karma led her companion through to the Ragged Flagon without an incident. A familiar face recognized her when she crossed the chamber.

"Well, well, well…look who wandered back down into the Ratway."

Karma stopped a few feet from the other Redguard woman, her expression stoic. Cicero noted the displeasure of his Listener with a curiosity. This entire trip she'd been in good spirits but upon reaching the city her mood had soured. He also noted the lack of excitement Karma exhibited at finding another person that shared in her race. Here in Skyrim, anyone who wasn't a Nord often got the short end of the stick and the minorities would band together. This was especially true of the Beast Races, but even those who looked like Nords other than a few features, such as skin tone or build, were often disadvantaged into forming tight pacts with each other. The Civil War raging right now was a lose-lose situation…the puppets of the Thalmor on one side and a racist Nord on the other.

Tonilia regarded Karma with a nod and tight smile, "What're you doing here?"

Karma promptly pulled off her pack, filled to brimming with stolen goods. She dropped it to the floor at Tonilia's feet and said, "I'm here on business. I need to speak with Mallory."

Tonilia observed the bag almost warily as if she were afraid that there were living snakes inside. When she knelt down and opened it, seeing the excess of gems, jewelry, and other trinkets, she let out a surprised sound. Standing and moving to put the pack on one of the wooden tables, she eyed Karma suspiciously over her shoulder,

"How'd you come about all this?" she asked lowly, her eyes flicking to the distracted jester who stood a foot too close to Karma's back. The Imperial met her eyes and stared unblinkingly until she turned her gaze back to the face of the other Redguard. The blank expression was more hospitable then the wide auburn eyes.

"I need to speak with Mallory. Where is he?" Karma repeated, ignoring the question. Tonilia huffed and turned her head, cupping a hand to the side of her mouth. Her shout echoed eerily and someone from the back passages of the makeshift tavern answered. A few moments later, Delvin Mallory stepped into the room. At the sight of her, he cracked a smile and chuckled.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, though he was distracted by the items Tonilia was piling onto the table. Karma didn't let him cross the room to inspect it all himself before speaking up,

"I need you to get me the resources to rebuild the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Dawnstar."

Both Mallory and Tonilia faced her in surprise. Mallory recovered quickly and walked the few paces to stand before her. He was over a head taller than she was and she didn't fancy looking up at him like some petulant child. Nonetheless, she cocked her chin up to keep holding his gaze. Behind her, Cicero shifted his weight, obviously disliking the close proximity. Mallory ignored him,

"Are you here on business for Astrid again?"

"No. Astrid is dead." Karma replied bluntly, "She was killed by the Penitus Oculatus during a raid. I am the new leader of the Dark Brotherhood."

Cicero shivered against the resolve in her voice. It had only been a few days since the Purification had left the Brotherhood with only a few choice members, and before that Karma had been alright with being the Listener and only the Listener. She hadn't wanted to take the responsibility that was the leader's position, but the firm and unwavering tone in her voice revealed how she'd put that aside almost startlingly quickly. The Brotherhood needed a Listener that could lead it back to glory. Cicero knew that if she wanted, she could become just what the Brotherhood needed. Why else would Mother have spoken to her?

Mallory, however, regarded her in stunned silence. It was only a few weeks ago that the tiny Redguard woman was running errands for Astrid, and now she had taken over the Brotherhood. It was common news now that the leader of the Penitus Oculatus had thought himself powerful and righteous when he'd exterminated the Dark Brotherhood. Even Mallory had been convinced that the shady faction had been completely obliterated from Skyrim, but after the murder of the Emperor and Commander Maro, he had known better. He'd even entertained the idea that Astrid and quite a few of the others had survived the attack. So the words from Karma caused a little bit of suspicion to rise up in him.

"What is it, exactly, that you need from me?" he asked her.

Karma didn't miss the tone in his voice, and neither did Cicero if his shifting was anything to go by. Though Mallory hadn't acknowledged the jester standing behind her, it was impossible to ignore the oddly dressed figure…the one in motley with an ebony dagger at his hip. Karma crossed her arms over her chest, carefully tucking her left wrist beneath the right to avoid jarring it.

"As I said. I need you to provide the resources to repair the Dawnstar Sanctuary. The Dark Brotherhood needs a new home."

"And how do you intend to pay?"

"With coin."

It was difficult to pass up the offer. A huge renovation would come at a fair price, and the Guild could use all the money it could get. Plus, he had an inkling that the materials Tonilia was shifting through were all for sale. The Brotherhood had little use for the prizes that were being scattered over the table. Those items, plus the coin being offered, would put them all in a good spot. Mallory wet his lips and extended a hand to shake,

"Very well. Tell me what you need and it'll be done."

Karma dug into her pocket and put a crumpled roll of parchment into Mallory's outstretched hand, completely ignoring the offered shake, "A list for you. Cicero, please give me the coin purse." She half-turned and held up her good hand. Cicero, who'd been carrying the massive pouch full of the money that Karma had received from Motierre, pulled the canvas sack from under his tunic where it had been bound tightly to prevent clinking. Karma simply passed the hefty amount of coin to the still surprised Mallory, "That should be enough."

Mallory peeled open the top of the sack, judging the amount to be above ten-thousand if he had to take a wild guess. He nodded and leaned to put the sack down on the table among the items that Tonilia was inspecting, "We have a deal."

Karma nodded stiffly, "Then I'll be in Dawnstar waiting for you." She said before turning and leading Cicero away from the Ragged Flagon. They were far into the tunnels when Tonilia held up a small trinket that was engraved with the name Titus Mede II.

When they reached the surface world the sun was beginning to set, drifting lazily towards the west horizon. Karma let out an irritated huff and started towards the gate. She'd rather sleep in the woods than even think about spending the night in this city. Not with the amount of coin she'd just poured into the Thieves' Guild. Even if they were honorable in their own way, she didn't trust any of them are far as she could throw them…and with her injured wrist, she wasn't throwing much of anything that needed both hands to heft.

Cicero watched her closely. He saw the stress melt away from her body as they passed through the gates and back into the wilds of Skyrim. The light came back into her eyes and the grim set of her mouth relaxed. He couldn't imagine why the Listener despised cities so much, though he had his own reasons for hating the idea of being around a lot of strangers who would probably kill you for a handful of septims. Though, at the same time, being alone was just as terrible as being surrounded by possible murderous strangers. The jester chattered at him about the possibility of the Listener preferring to be lonely when Karma addressed him and Cicero was jolted back into real time,

"Help me onto Shadowmere, will you?"

Cicero helped heft her onto the back of the massive horse, wincing in sympathy when she nudged her wrist and hissed in pain. He then climbed onto his own horse, following her lead as was his duty. After a few moments the Redguard let out a long sigh and shifted to a more comfortable position on her saddle,

"Thank Sithis we're out of there,"

Cicero perked with interest and looked over to her, "The Listener prefers to stay away from big cities?"

Karma shrugged her shoulders, "No, I like some cities just fine. Whiterun and Winterhold are alright. I like Markarth when the road there is clear, and Solitude is bearable…despite the fact that if anyone knew who I was, I'd be tossed from the roof of the Blue Palace." She smothered a cackle at that, "But Riften just…I don't like the feel of it. There are people just as stealthy as me in that city and I don't like that."

Cicero couldn't help but to laugh, giving her a sly sort of smirk, "So the Listener just prefers to be the best at things."

Karma didn't bother to deny it, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue at her companion, "No preference at all. It has gotten me into more trouble than I care to deal with!"

The jester had to admit she was right. While he didn't know much about her life before they met each other, it was in part thanks to Karma's skills with assassination that Astrid felt so threatened by her. That and her friendship with him. Karma's sense of honor was something to fear as well. People that felt like they needed uphold some sort of honor code would often act selfishly, recklessly…stupidly. Once the Night Mother had spoken to her and made her the Listener, she had become unwaveringly loyal to the Unholy Matron and, in a way, Cicero.

"No. I like smaller villages over larger cities." Karma admitted, "They remind me of home."

Cicero's eyebrows vanished beneath his bangs, wisps of red hair that stuck out from under his cap and hid most of his forehead. Though the interest was like a hungry beast, he didn't press her for details. Karma didn't talk about her past, something that was expected of an assassin, but that didn't mean that the Keeper wasn't itching to know. She was young, very young, by the standards of an assassin with her skill. Cicero wasn't sure, but he guessed that she was younger than six-and-twenty. Her short stature and round face didn't assist in guessing her age, but sometimes there was a shadow in her eyes that showed decades worth of pain and anger. Sometimes that shadow, that darkness, seeped out. And that was the slip that he'd been watching in her, the way that cold and calculated mask – the one she'd worn firmly within the walls of Riften – was starting to fall away. Even now, with a comfortable silence between them, Cicero could see that she wasn't holding herself to that strict code she had taught herself however many years ago. Being at ease around him, Karma wasn't trying hard to seem intimidating or cold or…sane. Cicero was seeing her now at a half-way point; a space between her hidden self and the mask she'd been wearing for years and years.

The jester shrieked with sudden outrage and the urge to force the mask down, to rip it from her, almost overwhelmed Cicero. The jester's anger was like a deep seated heat in his chest, burning and roiling with desire. He wanted to see what she was like under all that cold and unyielding false face. He wanted to force the madness out of her, wanted to mix it with his own and drink it in. He wanted to see what it was like to be with another person who was like him. He wanted to share in it, equal parts insanity and bloodlust and desire.

But he sat in silence on his horse while Karma led the way home. For now.

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