.

FALNAS

Speaking with Silence

The Ragged Flagon, Cistern

"Mercer will be in shortly mate, 'e's in a meetin' with crazy Maven," Delvin Mallory said to Falnas when he came to the Cistern to report. "Speakin' of which, I got a meetin' o' my own. Wanna come?"

"Sure," Falnas said. "Who are we meeting?"

Delvin only gave a mysterious smile. "Someone from the competition."

"I... didn't know we had competition?"

"We work in the same field, more or less," Delvin only said. "Except they steal lives, not gold."

That could only mean one thing. "We're meeting someone from the Dark Brotherhood? I thought we didn't associate with them?"

"Most of you don't," Delvin said as they walked to a secluded part of the Ragged Flagon. "But... well, let's just say I walked a darker path 'fore I signed up 'ere." With a chuckle he added, "I cleaned up my act by joinin' the Thieves' Guild, imagine that."

Wow. Falnas never would have given it to him, Delvin Mallory, a former hard-as-nails assassin. Then again, there was a lot about his fellow thieves that he didn't know, and he guessed it was only just as well.

Delvin opened the door and motioned for Falnas to go on. "After you, mate."

The person standing in the torch-lit room didn't look like an assassin at all. She looked like she still played with a doll when no one was watching. She couldn't have been older than fifteen. Falnas knew the Brotherhood like to recruit them young, but this couldn't possibly be a full-fledged assassin. The very thought was ridiculous. "She's from the Brotherhood?" he asked incredulously. "This slip of a girl?"

The slip of a girl in question crossed her arms and gave him an almost-furious look, her eyebrows knotted beneath her straight-cut fringe, transforming her admittedly adequately pretty face into an angry mask.

"What'd you expect then mate?" Delvin asked, sounding slightly annoyed himself. "Some dark elf with a cowl, white hair an' two scimitars? That's how you all think an assassin looks like don't you? Well let me tell you summat. This 'slip of a girl' is ten times more likely to get 'er mark than any cowled showman with two black swords an' a whole list of 'tragic powers'."

The girl just stood looking at him silently, her arms still crossed, still glaring.

"An' you know why?" Delvin continued his lecture. Falnas realized he'd kicked over a bowl of worms, and now he had to face the consequences, in this case being schooled by Delvin. "Because this girl don't look like an assassin, mate. The best assassin is the one you don't suspect. Give 'er a frock an' some flowers in 'er 'air, an' no one suspects a thing."

The girl gave him a pedantic nod, as if to say, see?

"Alright, alright," Falnas said, raising his hands. "I apologize. I'll uh... let Delvin do the talking."

"Best, mate," Delvin said, his irritation gone, replaced by mild amusement at Falnas' misstep. "So, you've come to us with word from Astrid, do you?"

The girl smiled faintly and nodded.

"How is our lovely Astrid? Still an arse like a pair of juicy peaches, squeezed into 'er tight leather breeches?"

Despite not being able to answer that question with personal input for obvious reasons, the girl still looked somewhat amused by it, and the silly rhyme. She still hadn't said a word though.

"Forgive me if I seem ignorant," Falnas said, taking his lessons from the first gaffe, "but do Brotherhood members take vows of silence?"

The girl didn't seem angry at him anymore, she just shook her head, then drew her hand across her throat.

"Oh," Falnas simply said. "I see." Seemed this one was a mute. Well, he supposed it'd work for not blabbing secrets.

The girl took a sealed letter from her pouch and handed it to Delvin, who read it intently.

"Pleased to meet you, Siari," Delvin said as he read, without looking up from the paper. The girl smiled and nodded a greeting back at him even though he didn't see.

"Pleased to meet you too," Falnas said. The girl was less friendly to him, but still polite, nodding at him too even as her smile faded. "You already know Delvin, and I'm Falnas."

"So Astrid wants the enclosed amulet verified for value," Delvin said, folding the letter again, then fishing in the envelope, taking out a small, but magnificent-looking jewelled amulet, the pendant shaped like a diamond, but made of gold and set with precious stones. Delvin whistled between his teeth, clearly impressed. "I actually know that piece." He looked back at the young assassin. "I'll take it off your 'ands right now, if you want. Spare you a trip to the antiquary. It's more than worth the price Astrid hopes I'll estimate it for."

The girl smiled and nodded again, her face saying that would be nice. Falnas already regretted being so scoffing towards her in the beginning.

"I'll write out a letter of credit for it. Should work just fine for Astrid." He paused, then looked up from the amulet. "She still with that hairy oaf?"

The girl's face answered affirmatively.

Delvin simply let out a frustrated snort. "Only thing I could possibly consider a negative point of Astrid is 'er taste in men." He handed Siari the assassin her letter back. "Where'd you get this am – " he began, but he interrupted himself. "Never mind, I don't want to know." He bent over a table, scribbled some words on a paper and handed that, too, to the assassin. "Letter o' credit, lass. Astrid knows I'm good for it."

The girl seemed satisfied, making a shallow bow as thanks, turned, and departed through the other door, where a young initiate stood by to lead her back to the surface.

"I don't know what the Brotherhood's up to," Delvin silently confided to Falnas, "but that amulet... ain't just any old trinket."

"How so?" Falnas asked. It clearly wasn't judging from Delvin's face when he'd taken it out of the envelope.

"That's an amulet from the Elder Council, specially hand-crafted for every member. Worth a small fuckin' fortune. Ain't summat you give up lightly." He set his jaw, then continued, "Not my place to tell the Brotherhood their business, but if they've killed a Council member, they're about to... let's say, live in very interestin' times."

Falnas shrugged as they walked. "Their problem, right?"

"S'pose. 'Ere's Mercer. Bet 'e's anxious for your report."

Indeed he was, and with Brynjolf joining them at Mercer's counter, Falnas told him what he'd learned from his trip to Gulum-Ei.

"Karliah," Mercer growled when he heard the name, leaning on his counter with his elbows. "Karliah!" Louder this time, full of anger. "Fucking Karliah!"

"We have to finish this, Mercer," Brynjolf said, much calmer than his leader. "She's got her sights on you, and she won't stop until you're dead. You know that."

"Oh believe me, I do," Mercer grunted, stroking his horseshoe moustache with his fingers, deep in thought.

Mercer had instantly recognized the name, and while he'd tried to keep a straight face, he'd clearly failed. Whoever this Karliah woman was, she'd murdered the previous Guildmaster, and now she was coming for the present one. But Falnas didn't think Mercer would just lie down and die. No, the man was too much of a tenacious asshole for that. He was formulating a plan right now, Falnas had knew that right away.

"Where did you say she was?" Mercer asked Falnas.

He repeated Gulum-Ei's words. "Where the end began."

A grin dawned on Mercer's face. "I know where it is."

It was there that Falnas found himself now, with Mercer Frey. The Guildmaster had ordered him to come along, and watch his back, to Falnas' surprise. The trip itself had been silent and terribly awkward, but at least his travel partner had been silent and brooding rather than the domineering rank-puller he usually was.

Snow Veil Sanctum, the place was called. Very mellifluous, but it was just a stone door set in a mountain wall.

"Karliah's definitely inside," Mercer grunted, pointing at the horse tied to a tree a ways further, a magnificent dark grey roan with a clearly Dunmer-influenced saddle. "Let's get moving, I want to catch her off guard." Then he took out his one of his throwing knives, lifted it above his shoulder, and with a powerful throw, pierced the horse straight through the jugular. The animal kicked and whinnied, and slowly went down as Falnas looked on with his jaw slack. "She won't be using it to escape," Mercer simply said.

"Did you have to kill that horse?" Falnas hissed at him, distraught at this needless killing of an innocent animal. "What's it ever done to you?"

"I'm sorry," Mercer said back, bringing his nose closer to Falnas', "I was under the impression that I was in charge. If she gets away, using that horse, she'll know we've found her and she'll go into hiding again. And then she'll bring down the entire Thieves' Guild, because you better believe we'll never be so lucky as to catch her again."

"That doesn't mean you can just kill an innocent horse."

"I can, and I did. Now do you want to make something of it?" Mercer growled, his hands on the hilts of his sword and main-gauche.

From what Falnas had heard from Brynjolf and Delvin, Mercer was nothing short of lethal with a blade, and as much as he hated what his Guildmaster had done to the horse, the man was so strung-out that he might just make good on his threat. And sadly, the horse was not worth dying over. "No." Then he moved past Mercer. "Was a shitty thing to do though."

Mercer pulled the lever outside the sanctum and the stone door sank into the ground. "Get on with it."

Falnas went inside, slowly, so his eyes could adapt to the darkness.

"Just make certain you keep your eyes open," Mercer said quietly behind him. "Karliah's not a hero with a blade, but she's as sharp as one. Last thing I need is you blundering into a trap and letting her know we're here."

Of course. Falnas would never dare embarrass his Guildmaster by impaling himself at the bottom of a deadfall filled with spikes.

They descended a dark cave, the floor slick with sleet, moisture from the air that had frozen to the stones. Karliah sure had chosen a cold place to hole up in. Not very Dunmer of her.

"Look. In the wall."

Falnas had noticed it too, a hole in the cave wall that was too neat to be natural. He didn't have to look far to have his suspicions confirmed. On the floor of the cave there was a small, barely perceptible pressure trigger.

"Karliah probably reset the traps," Mercer informed him. "Be extra cautious."

"Even more cautious than before?" Falnas asked sarcastically.

"Just keep moving," was all Mercer had to say to that.

Stepping over the pressure plate, they continued their descent, and soon found themselves before a solid stone door, and this one had no lever or operating mechanism, except for a curious set of holes in the middle.

"They say these Nordic burial mounds are impenetrable," Mercer said, scoffing. "This one doesn't look too difficult." He took out a set of strangely-shaped lockpicks and began working the holes in the centre. "They're supposed to require a special key. Won't open without one." A click sounded. "But they're quite simple really," he grunted as he worked. "All it takes is a little bit of know-how and a lot of skill." Another click, and the door sank into the floor, in relative silence for such a heavy slab of stone. "After you."

"So how did Karliah get in?" Falnas whispered.

"She must have had the key to this place," Mercer said behind him. "Probably did away with it, or kept it on her, thinking nobody could get in." Falnas heard a chuckle. "She thought wrong." He pointed up. "Bone chimes. Don't blunder into any of them."

Slowly, they crept forward in a cave complex that looked like a catacomb. Indeed, in the walls, niches were hewn that contained mummified bodies, once healthy and alive, now desiccated and horrible to look at. Certainly not the way Falnas wanted to end up. A once-ornate chest, now tarnished with age, the copper stained and the wood decayed, stood on a pedestal in the middle of the catacombs. It was almost as if it was daring people to try and take it.

"Don't touch," Mercer said. "Magickal trap. Wouldn't be surprised if it woke all these corpses up."

Yeah, thanks Mercer. Falnas wasn't an idiot. A chest placed in such a conspicuous location couldn't not be trapped. He doubted if the trap would actually wake the dead, but it was bound to be at least very unpleasant.

"Spike trap," Falnas pointed out as he saw the pressure plate, and the taut ropes that went around the corner. Stepping on the pressure plate would mean getting turned into a leaky piece of meat as the wooden lattice set with spikes came a-swingin' from around the corner.

"Fire trap," Mercer said quietly, referring to the pressure plate in the centre of the hallway.

"Snare," Falnas remarked, pointing at the sneakily thin thread floating above the floor.

There were no more traps in the hallway, and deeper it went, into the bowels of the earth, until it ended in a stone arch, that they passed under to find themselves in a wide open cave room, water standing up to their ankles and several ledges on the far side.

"Karliah's close," Mercer said. "I'm certain of it. Stay low and quiet."

Falnas did so, but as he emerged into the open space, he heard a zipping sound, and too late to duck away, felt the stab of a barb in his neck. His muscles instantly went limp and he fell, splashing into the ice cold water, the poison doing its work, paralyzing him entirely. All he could do was look up at the ceiling of the cave with eyes he could no longer move.

"Karliah!" he heard Mercer threaten, as the sound of iron scraping on leather echoed off the cave walls. "Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?"

Falnas hoped Mercer had gone into cover, because if she got him too, they would both die. If he wasn't already a dead man from this poison. Panic welled up in his chest, but he was able to rationalize it: if the poison was lethal, he'd be dead already. He couldn't move, but somehow he could still breathe, albeit very, very slowly.

"Give me a reason to try," came a defiant female voice from somewhere in the cave.

"You're a clever girl, Karliah," Mercer called out to her. "Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired."

The voice came again, calm and collected. "To defeat an enemy, you must first cut him off from his allies. The first lesson Gallus told us both, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Mercer called back. "You were always a quick study, weren't you?"

This time, the voice was laced with an edge of sadness. "Not quick enough. Or Gallus would still be alive."

That... didn't sound right? Hadn't she murdered him?

"Gallus had his wealth," Mercer said to the other voice, "and he had you. He should have simply looked away. That was all he needed to do. But he had to keep interfering."

What in Oblivion was going on? It sounded a lot like Karliah wasn't the murderer, but...

"And you murdered him for it, Mercer. Our Guildmaster. And my love. Did you forget our oaths as Nightingales? Did you expect us to simply ignore what you were doing?"

Oh damn it. Damn it, this was all wrong. Mercer had been the one who'd murdered the old Guildmaster. And now that he knew this, Mercer wouldn't let him live even if the poison didn't kill him. And on the off chance that this Karliah person took Mercer down, she'd simply kill him for being in cahoots with her lover's murderer. Falnas would die here, and no one would ever know.

"He chose his fate, Karliah, as you have just chosen yours," Mercer declared. "Come down here, Karliah. If you want to see Gallus again, I'll send you straight to him."

"I'm no fool, Mercer. Fighting you directly would be suicide. But I'll promise you this, next time we meet, it will be your downfall."

Falnas heard running footsteps quickly fade into the distance as Karliah ran.

This was the end for him. He was paralyzed and completely at the mercy of the treacherous Guildmaster, and since the man had already murdered once in his life, he wouldn't hesitate to do so again.

"Look at that," he heard Mercer's voice. He knew it was directed at him. "Still alive are you? Seems you'll end up just like Gallus. History repeats itself it seems, and once again Karliah has provided me with the means to get rid of the only one who knows the truth."

Falnas tried to move, tried to will his muscles to do something, anything, but he was simply paralyzed, and all the orders his brain gave to his body simply weren't heard. This bastard was going to kill him there and then, and there'd be nothing he could do. What a shitty way to die. This wasn't right! This wasn't fair!

"But you know what I find most intriguing? The fact that all of this was possible because of you. Thanks for leading me to her. I'll be certain to tell Brynjolf you died bravely at Karliah's hand. Goodbye, and good riddance."

Falnas helplessly watched as Mercer took out his main-gauche and in a single fluid movement, slid the blade into his victim's gut. He didn't feel a thing, but he knew the weapon had gone right through when he saw it come out bloody all the way to the hilt.

"Hope it's mostly painless," Mercer said with a sadistic grin. "If not, then it's all the same. I'll leave you to bleed out in peace."

Falnas' muscles still didn't respond, and as Mercer walked away, it was in mental turmoil but in complete physical tranquillity that he slowly drifted into darkness.

The cold was still there when he opened his eyes. Never left, really. It was even colder than before.

But if he was dead, how did he feel the cold? And how had he just opened his eyes to look at the dusk sky?

"So you're awake. It was touch-and-go for a while, but here you are."

The second thing he felt, after the cold, was the sharp end of a knife on his throat.

"Hold still," the voice said. A woman's voice. "Mercer went back to the Ratway, didn't he?"

It was Karliah. The woman Mercer had confronted earlier. Had she saved him? Probably. Dragged him outside at the very least. He could control his muscles again, somewhat, and there was a throbbing pain in his lower belly. Right, the stab. Son of a bitch Mercer.

"Look," Falnas said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't know he was the Guildmaster's killer. He told all of us it was you. If I'd known – "

"You say that now," the woman said, "But all I saw was you creeping into that cave along with him."

"I know you saw," Falnas said. "Since you shot me and all."

The woman's voice chuckled. "I did. And I saved your life by doing so. The dart had a unique paralyzing poison. Slowed your heartbeat and metabolic functions. It's the only reason you didn't bleed out in minutes."

"So I should thank you?"

Another chuckle. "No, but you should convince me that Mercer really had you fooled."

"He had all of us fooled," Falnas said, still unable to move his head far enough to see her. "Would he have fucking shanked me in the gut otherwise?"

The knife came off his throat. "Good point."

"Shame I only had one dart. Couldn't get a shot at Mercer so I had to waste it on you instead."

"Well thanks," Falnas said sarcastically.

"You should thank me. It saved your life."

He was able to sit up now, and with the knife off his throat, he could at least turn his head to see his dubious saviour. "So you're Karliah." This was indeed Karliah, a Dunmer dressed in the same muffled leathers as he wore, only older and more worn. She had a narrow face, even for a Dunmer, and from under her hood peeked a lock of jet black hair, and her eyes... were they purple? She was pretty damn beautiful.

"I am Karliah. The one Mercer pinned the blame on for Gallus' murder. That he committed."

"How did he even get away with this?"

"Mercer's good with two things: his blades, and his words. The fact that he's so unpersonable actually makes his lies stick better. He simply crafted an elaborate lie, and with no one left to call him into doubt, everyone just... believed him."

It was now that Falnas noticed he was bare-chested, with bandages wrapped around his abdomen. "Thanks for uh... patching me up." She must know a Restoration spell or two, because he could almost feel the wound heal.

"Don't mention it. Glad I didn't waste it on a crony for Mercer." She sighed. "Look, I'm willing to believe you were a patsy in all of this. Mercer had everyone fooled, and I assume that includes you too. So I'm going to confide in you."

"The fucker stabbed me and left me to die," Falnas said, still seething at the betrayal. "Confide all you want."

She took her saddle bag and opened it. "By the way, did you kill my horse?"

"No," Falnas said. "That was all Mercer. Should have realized what kind of rotter he was when he killed a horse that never did him any wrong."

"More reason to get rid of him then." She sighed and stuck her hand into the saddle bag, taking out a leather-bound book, with on the front a sigil that looked like a bird raising its wings to the sun. "This is Gallus' encoded journal. You won't be able to read it, and neither can I. But I know someone who can."

"Good, so let's go see him."

Karliah shook her head. "It's in Winterhold. Mercer knows I'll be trying to go there next. In fact, he's had someone watching the place on and off ever since he knew I was still alive."

"So I'll go. He thinks I'm dead, right?"

Karliah nodded. "He does. It's in Winterhold. Go see a man called Enthir, ask about getting it translated."

"Right. I should go back to the Guild first though. Tell everyone what happened."

She shook her head. "Get the book translated first. Without physical evidence, you'll either get executed by Mercer right away, or he'll be gone and everyone will suspect you of killing him. I've waited years for justice, surely you can wait a few days?"

Oh, he could wait a few days. No problem at all.