SIARI
Crucible
Outside Sanctuary
A gift from the Night Mother. Siari had no idea what to expect, but she knew it'd be exciting. "A dark pool", the Night Mother had said. Well… there was a little pond there. Not exactly dark, and not exactly a pool, but she figured it was the Night Mother's sense of drama at work when she described it so mellifluously. She stood by it, waiting for something to happen. Did a shadow just move in the water? It looked like it, but it could have been her imagination. The moon wasn't being much help either.
Siari hoped the Night Mother hadn't decided to get rid of her and sent some kind of terrible underwater creature with tentacles to drag her into the depths. Then she realized how ridiculous that was.
Yes, it was definitely a shadow. She kept her eyes fixed on the pool, not even realizing she was taking a few steps back. As she looked, the water began first to ripple, and then to bubble, growing wilder and wilder until it heaved and foamed violently.
Siari held her breath as the water from the small pond turned into a white, frothing pillar of water, and a dark mass began to rise to the surface. The idea of a tentacle monster dragging her below the water didn't seem all that irrational anymore. After all, the joke went that tentacle monsters had a thing for teenage girls, for some reason.
But it wasn't a tentacle that surfaced. It was a jet-black, majestic and terrifying horse's head. The eyes opened, shining lights of blood red set in the deep black coat, as the horse kicked and stomped, pushing itself out of the water. It was bigger than any horse Siari had ever seen, and its coat was so black it didn't even reflect the light.
As Siari looked on in amazement, the horse freed itself from the water and set its powerful hooves on the bank, then trotted over to her.
You would not be a true Listener without this gift. Shadowmere has been the steed of every Listener as the ages went by, and you too have earned this right. You require no reins, no saddle. Shadowmere will take you where you need to go, more quickly and more quietly than any horse could. This is my gift to you, my Listener. My gift to the servant of Sithis.
The Night Mother's voice in her head fell quiet. And as if the horse knew, it let out a low, gruff snort and gently nudged Siari's cheek with its muzzle. It felt ice cold, but not uncomfortable or disconcerting. Carefully, Siari extended her hand and gave its muzzle a light, nervous stroke. When the horse didn't object, she gave it another one, this time more confident and determined. Despite its sinister red eyes, Shadowmere seemed friendly enough. To her, at least. Siari didn't doubt the horse would be far less docile to others.
She supposed she should try riding it, but how could she mount without stirrups? Or ride the massive steed without a saddle? She walked to the beast's side and placed her hands on its back. The Night Mother had said she needed no saddle or reins, so maybe all it took was some faith?
Her hands firmly on Shadowmere's back, she jumped as high as she could, and as if carried by an invisible force, she went up with ease, hoisting herself securely on her mount's back. Despite the lack of a saddle, she sat firmly and comfortably, and without reins, she just placed her hands on the sides of Shadowmere's neck, and found that the position felt natural and pleasant.
With a single tap on the side of the mount's neck, she sent Shadowmere speeding through the forest, past the construction site not far from the Sanctuary, then skirting Falkreath and galloping across the plains to the east. She didn't have to shout instructions or pull reins, just gently exert some pressure with her hands to guide the beast to where she needed to go.
With the wind rushing through her hair as she barrelled across the plains, the horse's hooves making no more sound than two pairs of Elven feet, Siari felt amazing.
The walls of Riften came into view after a couple of hours already, and as the city came closer, Shadowmere, of its own accord, slowed to a gentle trot, then stopped around a hundred metres from the wall. Siari dismounted without effort, but the horse would go no further, not even to the stables.
Realizing Shadowmere could probably take care of itself until she got back, she gave it a smile and a pat on the side, and with a snort and a nod of the head, the horse trotted off. Siari hoped it wasn't expecting soothing words, because, well…
The experience had been wonderful, and Siari already longed for the ride back, but first, she had this highly unpleasant business to take care of. Funny how the Night Mother brought her joy, and Astrid only brought her these… stinking chores.
Market day again. Ugh. Not only did Siari hate crowds, she also realized this would make it even more difficult to get spotted by the right Guild gopher, since the place would be crawling with them today. And of course, she hated, hated, hated Riften. Being sent back to this shit hole was bad enough, but having to "answer some questions" the Guild had was even worse.
Just being near the Orphanage made her feel nauseous and miserable, and even though it was only minutes ago, the time she spent thundering across the plains and feeling amazing, mighty and special felt like it never happened, and she was that little girl again, huddled in the corner, crying like a worthless piece of waste and protecting herself with her hands as Grelod made the paddle come down again and again, the hard wood striking her where it could, trying to find soft spots to provide as much pain as possible. Despite the enchanted leather she wore, regardless of the lives she'd ended, she felt humiliated and worthless again, an orphaned runt with no right to live.
Even murdering Grelod hadn't gotten rid of that feeling.
A young Redguard woman noticed her and came towards her. These Guild Initiates sure were bunglers, dressed clearly in thieving attire, leather jerkins with lots of pockets, and the eternal hood. Because unlike Siari, these people were not supposed to flaunt their nature. Siari didn't steal, didn't break the law apart from committing her one murder, and most authority figures had accepted Brotherhood assassins as an evil best ignored. These thieves though, they were fair game for arrest or incarceration. And while wearing Guild outfits wasn't enough to get arrested, it was certainly enough to make guards keep an extra sharp eye on you, and being noticed by the Guard was the last thing a thief needed. Were these Initiates so desperate to show they were big, bad Guild members, or were they simply stupid?
"Are you uh, Siari?" the Redguard girl asked. She was about her age, but from the looks in her eyes, Siari could tell she was only half as intelligent. And yet, she looked familiar.
Giving the girl an irritated look, Siari nodded. Nice and subtle, saying her name out loud in the middle of a market square.
"I'm supposed to take you t – "
Her expression livid, Siari put a finger on her mouth. For Sithis' sake, girl, shut up.
"Oh don't worry," the girl said. "I'm going to get caught stealing." She leaned in and whispered, "I'm uh, you know, one of the decoys. Guards focus on me, but I don't do anything wrong, and the other members, dressed like, well, you know, normal people, do the stealing."
Oh, right. That made sense. Still, she was being anything but subtle.
"Come on." She spoke slowly, drawing out the words, as if she'd lose track of what she was saying if she went faster.
She started walking, and Siari followed. She knew there was a secret entrance at the cemetery, and hoped this dim wick would lead her there, instead of making her go all the way through the stinking sewers of this already foul-smelling shit-pool of a city.
"You knew my sister," the dim girl said as they walked. "From the Orphanage. I got sold off earlier. My sister later, to someone else."
That's why she'd looked familiar. And that's why this girl hadn't been surprised at Siari's silence. She knew, of course, about her missing bits. And she knew that at one time, Siari had been a whimpering, pathetic piece of meat that wet the bed at night, got paddled across her bare behind and had to clean the floors with bloody knees and tears in her eyes, just like her.
The thought made her incredibly uncomfortable.
"I managed to get out and join the Guild," the girl continued, unasked. "My sister, she…" She trailed off. Siari knew what had happened to her. The way they'd fished her out of the water, with all the horrible marks on and in her. Only twelve. She hadn't been the only one.
Thankfully, the Initiate left the small talk for what it was and led her to the cemetery, being stupid enough to open the mausoleum hatch while Siari stood looking. So now she knew exactly how to get inside herself, if she ever needed to. All it took was to press the diamond-shaped mark in one of the walls, and while keeping it depressed, turn it a quarter to the left. Idiot girl. Siari bet that if this girl had been the one in the canal and her sister had lived, this whole process would have been completed with far less embarrassing mistakes.
The Initiate motioned for her to go down. "It's down there."
You don't say, numbskull.
With a grunting sigh and a roll of her eyes, Siari descended into the underground corridors, and after letting her eyes adjust to the light, or lack thereof, she opened the door that led to the Cistern. The Ragged Flagon itself was deserted, and when she noticed the idiot girl had followed her, she gave her a questioning look.
"Everyone's away on, you know, jobs," the girl said in her slow speech. "Except Delvin and Falnas. They're, um, waiting for you in the next room."
Why not just in the Ragged Flagon? Damn this dumb job, damn this Guild and damn this fucking city.
Still Siari stomped on, cutting through the Flagon and opening the door that led to the antechamber, a large, circular empty room with a narrow bridge that led to the other side, and apart from that, nothing but water.
There they were. The Breton, who was tolerable, and the Dunmer, who was not. What a jackass he was. This idiocy better be over soon.
The Breton said something to the Dunmer, and then nodded at her. Behind her, she heard the Initiate leave and close the door.
"Evenin', Siari," the man with the shaved head called to her. "Come on in, 'ave a seat."
Why was this meeting here? And why was there only one chair? Just one chair? Was this how the Guild conducted meetings? She approached, but stayed wary, keeping her eyes on the both of them.
She certainly wasn't having a seat. This stank. Everything about this meeting stank.
"Go on, your legs must be tired," the Breton insisted. "Sit down."
Why were they so eager to let her sit? She wasn't having any of it. With a shake of her head, she remained where she was.
The Breton let out an impatient sigh, and the next moment, his hand shot out, so fast Siari couldn't react in time. His fist grabbed the hair above her ear and wrenched. Yelping in pain, Siari tried to get her dagger out, but with a strength she hadn't expected he had, he pushed her in the chair, then snatched her wrists. She kicked out, and tried to claw at him, but this man knew how to fight, and everything she tried was ineffectual. Snarling, she kept struggling, even as the bastard ordered the other, "Clamps, move it!"
The next moment, a cold steel cuff closed around her one wrist, pinning it to the chair, and then the Dunmer tried to force her free wrist in the other manacle.
She kicked straight forward, aiming at the Breton's knee, hoping to break it before they could get her other arm clamped in, but her foot only grazed his leg before the Dunmer's two hands brought her arm down and snapped the cuff closed.
In frustration and rage, Siari kept kicking out, the hair the Breton had pulled out of her ponytail bouncing in her face. But the two took a step back, out of her range, and she was forced to give up her struggle after realizing these clamps couldn't be pulled open no matter how hard she tried.
What in Oblivion were these two doing? Didn't they know who she was? She was the Listener for Talos' sake! Did they have any idea who they were fucking with? Any idea what kind of things she could call down on these idiots? How dared they?!
"No sense strugglin', ya little ankle-biter," the Breton grunted, standing doubled over. Oh yeah, Siari had given him a nice knee straight in the pisser. "This'll be over in a second if you tell us what we need to know." A small bit of satisfaction mixed with her fury and indignation as he added with a pained face, "Phooah. Little daedra scamp got me in the nads."
She sure had. She hoped it hurt.
Now it was the Dunmer who spoke to her, from a safe distance, the cowards. "You were sent to kill Mjoll, weren't you?"
How in Oblivion was this their business? And did they really expect her to blab? Brotherhood assassins never gave away the names of their marks, or their contractors. She kept silent, breathing hard in anger, pulling herself back as far from these bastards as she could.
"Don't bother denyin'," the Breton said, sadly no longer looking very hurt from the knee. He was going to get a lot more than that the second she was out of this chair. "What you're gonna do, dolly girl, is write down the name of your contractor. That's all we want, then you can go."
'Dolly girl'? She was the Listener, not a 'dolly girl'. The nerve these two had! She wanted to open her mouth and scream at them, hurl every obscenity she could at their faces, all the most rotten names and the vilest threats, but she couldn't. All she could do was glare at them and think of ways she would hurt them as soon as she got free.
"Don't make this any 'arder 'n it's gotta be, lass." The bald bastard had the gall to actually sound disappointed in her. Siari felt her teeth gnash as she burned up with anger. "The contractor for the Mjoll killin'. Just one name."
Go sit on Mehrunes Dagon's red hot poker, you whoresons.
The thought had only finished forming in her head when a blow struck her hard across the face, first exploding with pain where the fist had hit her, and then a smaller flash of hurt where she banged the back of her head into the chair. Her world spun and her vision doubled, then returned to normal before becoming troubled with tears.
They hit her. These crazy rotters had dared to hit her. They had hit the Listener. She would eat their souls when she got free.
"Come on, girl. Don't make me do this," she heard the Breton say. "You're breakin' my 'eart."
She was going to break a whole lot more the second she was out of this Nine-damned chair. Pain began to pound in her cheekbone even as tears streaked down them, warm and wet on her skin. Fuck this city. Fuck this city for always turning her into that little girl again. She wanted nothing more than to see this entire place burned to the ground.
She felt the roughness of a piece of paper as it was slid under her hand, and then the greasy texture of a piece of charcoal inserted between her fingers.
"Go on. Write it down, 's all we ask."
"Delvin. Can I talk to you for a second?"
It was the Dunmer, of all people, who called this method into question. Good call. For that, she'd kill him last.
"What, mate?"
They stepped away from her to converse in private. Siari tried hard to hear what they were saying, there could always be something she could use against them, but their voices were so low and quiet she couldn't make out a word. From their body language, she deducted that the Dunmer objected to beating a manacled sixteen-year-old girl. At least one of them did. Siari kinda felt bad – she'd rather loved hating him and it stank to realize he wasn't that bad a sort.
"Hello. You mind if I take this little bitch with me after you're done?"
What in Oblivion…
The dull-witted Redguard girl was there again, her hands behind her head, and behind him, with what was clearly a weapon at her back, stood a Nord in his late twenties – it was hard to tell with the low, flickering lights – although his long hair and light beard had already gone grey. Had she seen this guy before? She couldn't recall. But he terrified her, much more than these Guild stooges did. And he came closer before the thieves could, so close he was within two metres of her.
"An 'oo the fuck're you then, twatwaffle?" The Breton asked, looking pretty angry. "You fuckin' bonkers, mate, forcin' your way in 'ere?"
The other man was much calmer, saying, "I don't give a shit what you want with this little murdering rat. All I'm telling you, and I'm not asking, is that when you're done with her, she comes with me. Alive, and still aware of her surroundings."
Siari broke her head trying to think who this guy could be, but her growing fear didn't make it easy. Her belly ached and her mouth was cork dry. He definitely knew who she was, and he definitely sounded like he had a score to settle, and not a pleasant one.
She pulled the manacles to get the attention of the Thieves, but they were too concentrated on the strange Nord to free her. And the man terrified her. She hoped those thieves wouldn't be stupid enough to just drop her in the lap of this obvious lunatic.
"As if we're just going to have her over to some half-baked snow-eater we don't know." Siari breathed a sigh of relief, the pain in her cheek all but forgotten. This guy could still slaughter these two, but at least they weren't just going to let him take her. "Turn around while you still can, fur frotter."
Her heart pounding in her chest and her cheek, Siari awaited his answer.
"Look," he said, still sounding calm, but Siari could tell there was hatred simmering beneath the surface. "I've got some very personal business to discuss with this little backstabber. Nothing that concerns you." He took the dagger off the back of the dim-witted Redguard girl. "You go ahead and… do whatever it is you want to do to her, all I'm saying is, turn her over to me when you're done or else."
Was this a loose end she'd left untied? A family member of a previous mark? Whatever it was, this man was clearly out for revenge, and if these thieves handed her over, she'd be defenceless in the chair. Mephala, no, don't let this happen.
Thankfully, the Breton chuckled. "Look at that. This dunghead comes to threaten us in our own 'ome. In't that adorable?" Meanwhile, the Dunmer shooed the Redguard girl out the door. Siari took everything back she'd said about these two. They were the only ones who stood between her and this vengeful Nord with the big axe at his belt.
"You're right," the Nord conceded. Hope flared up in Siari's chest as her mind fooled her into thinking he just might leave. But that hope was dashed instantly, replaced by more fear. She strained against the manacles, but they were forged steel, and there was no way she'd be able to break them. The knot in her belly became harder and more painful.
"That wasn't very corteous of me," the Nord went on. "Let me rephrase. My business with her is completely separate from yours. And I'd sincerely appreciate it if, when your business is concluded, you let me take her with me. None of it will come back on you, I guarantee it."
The Dunmer looked back at her, briefly, trying to gauge if she knew the guy, but she didn't. Hadn't seen him before in her life. When he looked back at the Nord, Siari realized he was racking his own brain to place the man. What, so he did know him? Or at least thought he did? What was going on here? Sweat ran down her forehead.
"Well mate," Delvin went on, not racking his brains at all, "Your business with her isn't our business either. An' that's why we feel no need to 'elp you. So bugger off to wherever you came from an' we won't rob you, your family, an' your little dog blind over the comin' months." Shit, the guy sure wasn't afraid. "An' don't think that axe scares us. We're thieves, an' your on our turf. We know this place like the back of our 'ands. You'd blunder into ten traps before you'd even get close to us.
True, but if they did run, she'd be at the mercy of this creepy bastard. Not that there would be any mercy. Siari prayed to the Night Mother to please, don't let them run. This guy had horrible plans for her, she was certain of it now.
But everyone stayed where they were.
"Like I said," the crazy fucker told them. "We got off on the wrong foot due to my overeagerness, but I'm not here for violence. I'm asking for a favour. "His dagger pointed at Siari's forehead, he said, "Her. That's all I ask. Doesn't cost you a thing, doesn't take any effort. All you have to do is let me take her with me after you're done."
Please don't let him take me please please
"An' I'm tellin' you that ain't happenin'."
The axe lunatic approached Siari, and she felt herself pulling away from him, even though his hands were empty. She knew those two thieves would never be able to stop him if he intended to hurt or kill her. She closed her eyes and prayed to Sithis for help, but it remained silent in her head.
"I just want to talk, is all," the man said when she reopened her eyes. "Look, how 'bout I help you with your interrogation? Because that's clearly what you're doing."
She threw a pleading glance at Falnas, the Dunmer. If this guy was going to 'help' with the interrogation, she'd got a lot more than just a few whacks to the face. This bastard was going to kill her, she knew it. If she didn't work the pity angle now, this could end very badly for her. The only thing she could do was look so scared and vulnerable that the two thieves wouldn't have the heart to give her up.
The axe man came closer and so did the thieves. Siari's heart pounded in her chest. She was so close to these people, who all wanted to do her harm, and caught in a chair, shackled to the armrests. She felt her lower jaw start to tremble.
"I'm sure we don't need your 'elp mate," the Breton said.
Oh Sithis she was so out of control, so resigned to the terrified wait, clamped to a chair, unable to move, speak or act. It only made the feeling of panic grow.
"Please, allow me," she heard the Nord say. Oh Sithis protect her, here it came. "So, little throatcutter," he said to her, his breath on her cheek even as she recoiled from him as far as she could. He smelled… somehow beastly. "You don't look like I'd imagined. Not that that will make me think twice." And with a little chuckle, he added, "And you probably don't know who I am, do you?"
She didn't, but couldn't say so.
"I've been looking for you though," he said as he kneeled by her. "Came all the way from Jorrvaskr to find you."
Oh no.
Oh no, no. No, no, no.
Siari's breath stalled in her throat and her stomach contracted so hard it became a painful stone in her belly. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. The three people she'd killed, this was one of their group. Oh no, no, no. Please Sithis don't let this be real. She was completely at his mercy, and the things he'd do to her would be terrifying beyond words. Sithis, Night Mother, anyone, help me, she begged silently. Fresh tears burned in her eyes though they didn't fall. But SIari knew she'd spill plenty more in the coming hours if he got his way. She felt her breath come in broken gasps as panic took hold of her.
"That turns you white, doesn't it?" the man snarled at her. "You know what happened at Jorrvaskr, don't you? What you did?"
Sithis Sithis no, no, no! She couldn't scream, couldn't try to reason, couldn't even beg for her life although she wanted nothing more. There had to be a way, there had to be something, someone that would save her, please, anyone.
"Their names were Njada, Ria and Kodlak," she heard the man growl, the fury in his voice now coming to the surface. "Njada was difficult and petty, but that was because she felt ignored and passed over. Kodlak was a wise, proud man who tried his best, all his life, to keep the Companions honourable, and on the path of right." Siari didn't care about her nameless victims, wasn't interested in who they had been. The only thing in her mind was begging quietly to anyone or anything that would hear, to spare her this fate. "And Ria… Ria was a hard-working jewel of a girl, who was going to do great things… You've taken all that away from them, but I want you to know who they were. People, not just names on a list."
That's all they had ever been to Siari and all they would ever be. Why he tried to play on her emotions was a riddle, but she could only think of her own life and her own fear right now.
"And they bled to death, or got stabbed through the heart just because you thought it was just a job."
Sithis save me someone do something
"Mate," she heard the Breton say, "I dunno what 'appened at Jorrvaskr, but you clearly aren't thinkin' straight right now. How 'bout we take a second to calm down an' clear all this up, yeah?"
"I don't need a second." She felt his breath on her face again as he threatened, "You murdered my friends, innocent people, you dirty shit stain, and I'm going to remember it for the rest of your short, pain-filled life."
Oh please no, no, no, no.
"You're interrogating her, right?" he asked.
"Yes," the Dunmer answered, "but – "
"Let me give you a hand," the man said, evil cheer in his voice.
Siari felt his fingers being taken in his hand – she shuddered at the touch – and pushed down hard on the wood of the armrest. When she opened her eyes, she saw the knife edge hanging over her little finger like a headsman's axe.
He wouldn't oh Aedra help me he wouldn't he's just trying to frighten me he's just –
As she watched, the knife edge came down, and the next moment, she heard herself let out a horrible, screeching scream as she felt the knife first cut through the skin, and then crush the bone of her little finger, crack-crack-crunching through it and taking it off. Her feet kicked and her head bucked out of control, banging against the back of the chair as the world was nothing but pain.
My finger! My finger my finger he's cut my finger off! Help help my finger my finger I don't want to die I don't want to die
Warmth washed between her legs and across her thighs as she lost all control over herself and her body. She felt her bladder drain, emptying itself in her breeches. She was that little girl again, would always be that little girl.
Would die as that little girl.
"What the fuck, mate?" she heard the Breton shout, her vision blinded by tears. Her face was completely wet with them. The stump of her little finger pounded in pain as she felt blood slicken the armrest under her hand. "You lost your fuckin' mind? This isn't a fuckin' torture chamber!"
Through her tears, she saw the thief give the Nord pig bastard a hard push. She hoped he'd fall on his own knife, but they were vain hopes. Her finger, he'd cut off her finger.
Blinking the tears from her eyes, she saw the Nord butcher hold up her finger. Her finger, her daedra-damned finger, a piece of her, cut off her hand. She felt dizzy and nauseous as she saw it, something that used to be part of her now detached from the rest of her. Seeing it so far away and no longer alive, a red stump at the end with the white of the bone visible in the middle, made her stomach turn.
The one time she'd seen something similar, she hadn't had the time to realize it had been a part of her body.
"See this?" the Nord shouted as he held up the piece of her. "This is only the beginning."
And before Siari's eyes, he threw the once-alive, once-part-of-her piece through the air, making it spin end over end before hitting the water.
Siari couldn't contain the wail that forced itself out of her lungs and tongueless mouth as she saw her finger disappear in the water, sinking down to mix with the shit and piss of the inhabitants of this rotten city. It was her finger, a piece of her body, and now it was gone, forever, like that other piece she'd lost so long ago.
"You're fuckin' mad's what you are," she heard the Breton yell at the Nord. He went on with a furious tirade of curses, but Siari no longer listened, she just sat staring at the ripples in the water, aware that she was rocking back and forth but unable to stop.
"Hey."
The ripples in the water slowly flattened, until they were gone.
"Hey. Look at me."
Reflexively, her eyes went to the Dunmer sitting beside her, and she knew that if she didn't save herself now, she was doomed. She looked at him with the most pleading, most despairing eyes she could make. Oh please, please, please let this be one more chance.
She felt his hand on the manacle and on hers, far less horrible than the Nord's. "Was it her? The contract? Was it Maven?"
For a moment, Siari couldn't make sense of his words.
"Come on," he insisted, "we don't have much time. Was it her?"
Siari knew the name. Maven Black-briar, some influential rich bitch that owned the biggest brewery in Riften. She had no Nine-damned idea who it had been that wanted the blonde woman murdered, but these guys wanted a name, and she wanted out of here, more than anything. And she didn't give a damn who'd given her the contract or what these guys wanted to hear, but they wanted a name, and the one they suggested was as good as any.
"Alright," the Dunmer said. Seemed she'd done the smart thing by nodding. He shot a quick look at the arguing men, then clicked the manacles open. "Dive. There's pipes that lead out, under the surface. Go, do it now."
She was going to live, or at least, have a chance to escape. The feeling she felt wasn't new to her, but still unsettling. She didn't like it, and wanted to just consider him a gullible fool, but she found out she couldn't. What she felt was real gratitude, that inhibiting and misleading feeling that made people make stupid choices.
"Go."
He was right, it was now or never. Ignoring the pain in her finger (it was surprisingly easy to do), she propelled herself off the chair and off the walkway, her enchanted boots sending her through the air in a long dive. She went into the water, taking care to keep her mouth closed, the cold feeling as if it was going to crush her flat.
She risked opening her eyes, but couldn't see anything in the dirty, stinking water, and quickly closed them again, pushing herself forward and downward against the water, hoping to find some kind of pipe or opening that would let her escape. Resurfacing was suicide.
Behind her, she heard the sound of the water surface breaking, muffled in her ears. Fuck, he'd jumped after her. Her hands flailed around, finding nothing but water, and her lungs began to ache for air. She set her teeth and tried to ignore the urge to open her mouth and inhale, and the next moment her fingers touched the stone curve that was unmistakably the rim of a pipe.
Grabbing onto it, she pulled herself inside, to freedom.
Her feeling of relief was short-lived as fingers closed roughly around her ankle. Oh fuck, he'd found her. Let go, let go, let go. She made her other foot shoot out, first hitting nothing but water, but her second kick met resistance, and she heard the noise of a pained voice, dull and distorted by the water, and the hand let go.
Kicking a few more times, both to propel herself and to deter her pursuer, Siari pulled herself through the pipe, her lungs about to burst. Thankfully, it wasn't very long, and her fingers soon closed around the edge on the other side.
The last of the air in her mouth escaped in a string of bubbles as she kicked frantically to get back to the surface, and just as her body was about to take over and fill her lungs with the shit water, her fingers felt air on their tips, and the next moment, she burst through the surface of the water, her lungs pulling themselves open to let the stinking, putrid, wonderful air in. Her arms flailed around, splashing up water around her, the pain in the stump of her finger forgotten.
She was alive! She had escaped and she was alive! Minus one finger, the fucking maniac would pay for that, but she was alive!
She had to get out of here though, because there was no doubt the bastard would pursue, and she did, hoisting herself up on a walkway and running until she saw light. Once, a dart zipped past her, but she was moving so fast it struck a wall, but apart from that, she didn't trigger a single trap (which she didn't doubt there were), and found herself at the mouth of a pipe that let semi-clean water run into the canal around the city. On either side were tall, dark grey stone walls, with rickety wooden walkways constructed against them to provide access to the houses of the unfortunates, who could afford nothing more than a hole in the wall above the stink canal.
At least they didn't live in an orphanage.
It was dusk already, and all the colours were fading to a dark grey-blue. She wanted nothing more than to get out of this city. Astrid would have some explaining to do when she got back to Sanctuary. Siari sure hoped she didn't know what these guys had been planning, and she certainly hoped she didn't have anything to do with this maniac showing up.
She sat on the wooden walkway at the top of the canal, her legs hanging over the side, thinking. It couldn't be, Astrid wouldn't send this torture-happy madman to her. Sure, she'd been unpredictable, but sending someone to kill her? No, that wasn't possible. Besides, the crazy fuck was from Jorrvaskr, so he'd probably just tracked her down. Just… very slowly, apparently.
Whatever the case, that explanation made more sense than the alternative, that Astrid had somehow – "
"Hey, girl. Are you alright? Did you fall in?"
Argh dammit!
She turned her head and saw a guardsman standing over her, his hands in his sides. She couldn't see his face with the helmet, but from his voice, she figured he was around thirty. She made a weary but friendly face and held up a hand to show she was alright.
"You're soaking wet, where do you live?"
She just shook her head. Nowhere, leave me alone.
"What's wrong, can't speak?"
Another head shake.
"Oh. Well, come on," the guard said, kneeling next to her. "I'll take you to the barracks, put you in front of a warm fire, so you can dry a bit at least."
She refused, trying to look as friendly as possible when she did.
He sighed. "Look, I don't care if you're one of those thieves. You're going to freeze like this. Just come on, let me take you to the barracks, no questions asked, promised."
No, no, no. She wasn't going to the barracks, she wasn't getting warm, she wasn't coming with this guy. It was too dangerous, and it was asking for trouble. He didn't seem to be a creep or anything, but still, no. Sitting in the barracks with all the guard there, if someone made her, she'd never be able to escape. No.
He took her hand and she pulled it away. "I'm not asking," he told her. "I wouldn't feel right about leaving you here like this, wet and cold." When he saw the blood on his glove, her immediately grew concerned. "Are you hurt? Look I don't care what happened to you, but you need your injuries taken care of." He took off his helmet and placed it on the ground next to her, revealing his sharp but pleasant face, short sand-coloured hair and goatee. "Look, if it helps, I'm not some masked murderer. Now, come on. It doesn't have to be all evening, just until you've dried up a bit."
He wasn't a masked murderer, but that didn't make two of them.
His fingers closed around her wrist again, and when she tried to pull free, he didn't let go. "I insist, alright? I'm not leaving you like this. Either let me walk you home or come with me to the barracks. Come on."
He made to help her up, but as he pulled, Siari decided she'd had enough. She snatched up the guard's helmet with her free hand and swung it hard, hitting him in the side of the head with such force that his legs gave out and he went to the ground. Before he could get his wits back, Siari had already climbed on top of him, sitting straddled on his back. One hand grabbed the hair by his forehead, the other went for the knife behind her back, placing it on his throat. He was four times as strong as she was, but the edge of a knife at one's throat makes strength useless.
"No, please," he begged. "Why? What have I done?"
You haven't done anything, but others have. Those thieves cuffed me and hit me. That crazy bastard cut off my finger while I was defenceless. They all saw me cry and snotter and piss myself. I can't touch those people now, but you, you I can touch. No, you haven't done anything, but you're the only one I can hurt right now, so you're paying for the rest.
"Please, no." he wailed on. "I have children, please."
Should have left it alone.
She drew the knife over his throat, opening him up. He let out a short squeal before his larynx too was severed and he could only die in silence, as she lived. Blood ejaculated from his throat in red streams, pulsating with his heart. In its death throes, his body moved and shifted under her and she closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of another dying person. His larynx severed, he could do no more than gurgle as the blood ran into his windpipe and his lungs, making a sound like a child sucking in the last of his drink through a straw. He moved for a few more seconds as his arteries pumped themselves dry, and then, in a pool of blood, he lay still.
Siari kept her eyes closed and the pain, humiliation and shame of the Ratway gradually became bearable.
"Please, I'm begging you, don't do this."
Siari's eyes snapped open and under her was the guard, alive and moving, his hair in her fist and her knife at his throat.
What had just happened? This illusion? Had it just been a fantasy? A way for her to enjoy the murder before committing it? It didn't matter, now she'd get to have twice the release.
"I have children," he pleaded through his tears. "Elsa and Mervan. They're two and four. They'll be orphans. I don't care what you do to me, just don't do this to them."
Siari felt her hand, about to draw the knife across his throat, suddenly freeze. She didn't know what was going on, but at the same time, she did. Orphans. She'd make orphans of this man's children. Orphans like she had been. They'd go to the Orphanage, like Siari had. Grelod was dead, but they'd find someone else.
She couldn't understand what kind of pain other people went through when she killed them, but this, this she could understand. And she remembered how it was, how it felt. And she knew she could never, ever put anyone through the thing she'd been through. All the other things, the dying and hurting people, were immaterial to her, as if they weren't real, just things that happened to the scenery they called 'other people', but this, this she could relate to, this she could imagine as something that actually happened and didn't just occurred to these not-really-existing 'other people'.
It was this feeling again, this horrible, uncomfortable, crushing feeling of her own actions actually mattering to others than herself. The scary feeling of not being able to kill and hurt freely because what she did, other people felt. The terrifying feeling of having to take responsibility and face the consequences of what she did.
And the breath-stopping realization that what she did unto others, others could also do unto her.
The guard still lay there, whimpering for his life, and Siari still felt the urge to enjoy his death and her power over him with every fibre of his being, but the fear that this might be a real person, and especially that his children were real people, soon-to-be-orphans, like her, made her stay her hand.
She pulled the knife away from his throat, and with a quick snap of her elbow, knocked the pommel against the side of his head, then jumped up and ran, through the city, out the gates and onto the back of Shadowmere.