"He's talking to someone. Whispering to someone. You have to find out what he's doing in there."
"Hold on," Athene said. "Who? Where?"
Astrid took a breath as if Athene was the one being stupid.
"Cicero. He locks himself in the room with the Night Mother and mutters to someone. They're planning something. I have to know what."
"Aren't you being a bit paranoid?" Athene was being kind. Astrid was being a lot paranoid. And from what she could tell, it was when Cicero stopped muttering that they should worry.
"You have to go in there and hide and listen to what they're saying."
"Hide where?"
"In the coffin."
For a second she was took shocked to answer. Then she said, "Why me?"
Astrid's gaze was as cold as the black door. "So. You're a few murders into your time with the Dark Brotherhood and now you don't need to listen to me?"
Athene sighed. "Fine, I'll do it." But as she made her way through the sanctuary to where the Night Mother's coffin was kept, Veezara caught her eye.
"What do you think of Cicero and the Night Mother?" she asked him.
"I'm a Shadowscale," he said. "I respect the old ways, and it surprised me when I first arrived here and saw that they don't even keep to the tenets. I think… I think maybe the tenets were there for good reason. But as for Astrid, I will follow her absolutely."
His green eyes flashed as he said it, and Athene nodded.
"I hear you," she said. She might not like everything the woman said, but she was the leader, and although this Dark Brotherhood had apparently abandoned its old ways, some traditions needed to be accepted for the system to work. So she headed on up to the Night Mother's room and, finding it empty, slipped inside.
The coffin was closed, as usual. Maybe Cicero spents hours here muttering but he was nowhere to be seen right now.
Athene approached the coffin, wary. It was sitting up on its base, as if the Night Mother would be standing within. But that couldn't be right. After as long as she'd been dead—centuries, if the legends were true—she couldn't be more than a few bones and dust. Then again, Athene had seen draugr that looked fresher than she wanted them to.
She look and could see nowhere else to hide in the room. Astrid had been right, damn her. The only choice was the coffin.
Which was locked, of course. Athene pried at it until it popped open with a click. Surprisingly there was no puff of foul air. Instead, it smelled almost of… flowers. She heaved and pushed the thick doors aside and there she was: the Night Mother, looking better kept than any draugr. And serene, too. She wasn't a demonstration of the horror of death, but an example of beautiful acceptance: death happens to everyone, regardless of who they are or how they live their life. It might come after a long, good life, or it might come with a quick slice from Athene's blade. The Night Mother accepted it all with grace.
Athene moved a little closer, almost expecting the eyes to open. Almost expecting a look of benevolence to shine out.
The coffin lids slammed shut behind her.