SIARI
To Kill an Empire
Sanctuary
It'd be forever a mystery to her whether or not the bastard had died in the fire or if he had survived, but she knew he was off her back. That much was certain. All her muscles ached and her entire body felt like it needed four or five days of sleep, but she'd made it. Escaped all on her own, no help from anyone, not even Sithis. She was not unproud, even though luck had lent her a little hand. If that baby hadn't been in that crib… She caught herself hoping that he'd actually made it. Got the little kid out of there at least.
She frowned at herself for being so soft. It wasn't like her. She didn't like it when it happened. It was just a stupid baby. Babies died all the time. And yet…
She shook her head to clear it, and with her teeth set, she concentrated on the road ahead, the trees flying past her as Shadowmere took her to Sanctuary. She dismounted, gave the skull door a good, long, commanding glare, and walked in.
"I trust Maro is dead?" Astri asked curtly, not even looking up from her desk. She was writing on parchments, jotting down whatever-the-shit. Siari didn't care, she just nodded, knowing Astrid couldn't see but not caring about that either.
"Good, good. Go get some rest."
Astrid acted like she was too busy to spare Siari a glance, but it almost felt as if… as if Astrid simply didn't dare to look her in the eye. Something was going on, Daedra damn it, something wasn't right. Was she perhaps disappointed that she'd returned? Siari's suspicion of Astrid siccing the Nord on her became too strong to ignore. She had to confront her now, or he might actually make another appearance in her life after all.
She took an empty scrap of paper and wrote,
crazy nord came after me again
curious as to how he keeps finding me
and handed it to Astrid, sliding it towards her, right over the parchment she was writing on.
"Damn it, Siari, can't you see I'm busy?" Astrid snapped, her face annoyed, but she picked up the paper and read it anyway, her frown deepening. It had gotten her attention at least, because she muttered, "That is strange. Any idea who he is at least?"
Siari took the paper back and wrote simply,
yes
"Yes, and…?" Astrid asked. "Who is he?"
jorrvaskr
"I'll be… " Was the surprise real or acted? Hard to tell. "How could he have possibly tracked you down?"
She had to do this. It would probably break their bond permanently if it was a false accusation, but Astrid had a right to know she was Siari's prime suspect.
was it you
"Wh… was it me, what?" Astrid stammered, feigning incomprehension. Because now she was clearly putting on an act, but that still didn't mean anything, she could still be innocent. "Wait, you mean…?"
Siari simply stood in silence.
"Siari, how could you think such a thing?" The anger explosion Siari had expected didn't come. Instead, Astrid treated her to a display of wounded innocence. "I would never… I would die before I'd betray you to such a… such an animal."
It… sounded credible enough. But while Astrid was irascible, jealous and petty, she had times when she managed to hide her feelings. Then again, what had she hoped for? Barring a confession, the only thing she could have accomplished was to have as much doubt as before.
"Siari…" Astrid began, standing up. "You have to understand… I'm only human. I have human feelings, I make human mistakes. Sometimes I do things you might not understand, but believe me when I say I only have our family's well-being at heart with everything I do."
The entire family?
"Don't give me that look," she sighed. "I have enough worries without having to deal with your suspicion. Siari… You're my daughter, I'd never do anything to hurt you. I promise. I had nothing to do with it."
The daughter thing was up for debate, but Astrid sounded sincere. Siari doubted she was a good enough liar to pull this off. So maybe it was true, maybe this hadn't been Astrid's doing. Astrid put her arms around Siari, as she'd done before, and she let her. "I know I've made things a bit difficult at times, but… at least believe me on this, my daughter: I love you with all my heart."
Siari couldn't allow herself to feel safe and secure, cradled in Astrid's arms, much as she wanted to. More conflicting emotions rose to the surface and she pushed them deep down, freeing herself from Astrid's embrace. She placed her palms on each other, cocked her head and laid it on the pillow of her hands, closing her eyes.
"Yes, of course," Astrid said, looking almost relieved that the conversation was over. "Go get some sleep. I have a big day tomorrow." She smiled. "A very big day."
Rest, sure, but she had someone to talk to first. Or better, to listen to.
You survived the confrontation against Hircine's hunter, the voice echoed in her head as she stood by the sarcophagus of the Night Mother. She nodded in reply even though it didn't matter. It wasn't as if the Night Mother could actually see.
And without my intervention. Impressive, even though Hircine offered his champion no aid either. I imagine the hunt would have ended unfavourably for you otherwise. You've survived a werewolf attack once, by pure chance, but you would not have survived a second.
She didn't need to be reminded.
My Listener, your return fills me with great joy. Your conflicted 'mother' wishes to advance our great plot to return the Brotherhood to the lustre it once had, but I fear her devotion does not serve Sithis, but rather herself.
Ugh, what was it this time?
She means to enact the final phase of our endeavour.
Yes, so? Wasn't that a good thing?
She would assassinate the Emperor by her own hand, rather than that of the Listener.
Yes, so? Wasn't that a good thing too? Siari had never been in it for the glory.
This will not do. You must return to her now and make my will clear to her. The Listener must be the one to behead the Empire. And to be perfectly unambiguous, I will not tolerate her turning this into a tug of war. Make my intentions apparent, and unmistakably so. You are my Listener, and backtalk to you is backtalk to me. And backtalk to me… is backtalk to Sithis.
Did the Night Mother realize what she was asking? Astrid still wasn't convinced she was even the Listener at all, and only accepted Siari's claims grudgingly. And now, with Siari trying to steal her moment of glory, her due as head of the family (as she would doubtless see it), Astrid would question her legitimacy as far as she dared, and despite earlier proof, Siari would have nothing to offer but her word.
There is no need for doubt in your mind, sweet child, the Night Mother's voice came into her head, loving and reassuring. I am aware of your difficult position in this. But do not be concerned, you will not need to defend your status. The voice in her head turned ice cold. Astrid will listen to you, or I will speak to her directly. It is an audience she will not survive.
Astrid would hate her for this. Not the Night Mother. Astrid would either assume Siari actually wanted the honour of performing the assassination (she did, but not enough to sever all ties with her surrogate mother for it), or she'd simply stab the messenger. In either case, their relationship would never recover from this. The possibility of being forced to simply remove Astrid once again reminded her of its existence, and she felt a painful stab at the realization. She resented Astrid, and this should make it easy, but there was more in her heart. More than just gratitude for taking her in. More than just the affection for someone she'd known for months and who'd treated her like a daughter before the Night Mother had come. A sort of… understanding. As if she could feel what Astrid was going through and realized why she did the things she did.
She hated those feelings. Hated it when they wriggled their way into her heart when she was unaware. Once more, she pushed them deep down, stomping down on them with the weight of her indolent apathy. It was simply easier to not feel things.
Taking a breath, she entered Astrid's office again.
"I thought I told you to get some rest? I need to prepare, I don't have time for you right now, Siari, please understand."
She did have time. Her schedule had just been freed up. Siari took a scrap of paper and wrote,
sorry astrid
night mother wants me to do it
not my idea i swear
Feeling a slight twinge of meanness, she added,
please understand
Astrid read the paper, her face like stone. Siari didn't know what to expect. She could fly into a fulminating rage, act the wounded mother, or simply feign compliance or anything in between. But she just sat there, silent, her eyes on the paper.
Siari remained just as silent as Astrid (how could she not), and waited until she had some kind of reaction. The moments were long, and felt like a battle of patience, which it probably was.
At length Astrid said hoarsely, "The Night Mother wants you to do it, does she?"
Siari merely nodded.
"Did she say why?"
Siari wrote,
no
just said it had to be the listener
Tears stood in her eyes when she read the paper, though she tried to hide them by looking away. "So this is what we do then? Obey, do as we're ordered without the dignity of being told why?"
Astrid's entire family had already known what that felt like, except Astrid herself. Siari wrote,
it's what we've always done for you too
Astrid didn't even manage to come up with any justification or any denial. "Is that really what you think?" She shook her head, her eyes still on the paper. "I'm not some tyrant, Siari. I'm your mother. I do what's best for us. I've never threatened you, never punished you. You, and the others did what I asked out of love. And don't try to tell me otherwise."
She wasn't going to. She wasn't going to tell her 'mother' that people did what they were told because of Astrid's loving mother-act. Because they, without realizing, knew how fragile and vulnerable Astrid's ego was. Because they wanted to allow Astrid to feel like the wise, beloved mother of the family. Because they permitted this feeling to Astrid. Conceded it to her, and were happy to let her have the illusion of being the unquestionable, unassailable, faultless guide of the family.
No, she wasn't going to tell her that. Let her have her ideas. The only thing that mattered right now was,
the night mother wants it that way
i'm only doing as i'm told
"Convenient though, is it?" Astrid said sharply, her mouth rigid. "The Night Mother always orders you to do things that will bring you respect and status, and undermine my position. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you're – "
Siari let her fist come down hard on the table, so hard even Astrid couldn't maintain her image as unflappable, phlegmatic leader, recoiling in surprise, her eyelids fluttering.
don't finish that sentence
Siari scribbled it quickly and held the paper in front of Astrid's face.
"Why not? Are you beyond criticism?" Astrid challenged, her face hard with the desire for confrontation. "Beyond scepticism? Is she? Should we just blindly accept everything you say?"
Siari scribbled on, barely legible, but she had to be quick, because Astrid was in the process of making things much worse for all of them.
i'm just some orphan off the streets, she wrote, even though she knew she was much more.
just a messenger
but you have to accept my message
because the night mother said if you don't
she'll deliver the message in person
Astrid read the paper and crossed her arms. "Oh, really? Let her, then. I've served Sithis faithfully for years." She banged a fist on the table and went to her feet, sweeping her hand in front of her. "I'm not demanding more from her than messages relayed by someone else. I'm saying I deserve more! And if she's even in the least bit reasonable, she'll realize that asking me to just blindly accept everything you say is impossible even for the most devoted believer."
we're all being tested astrid
maybe this is your test
Astrid read the paper, smouldering. "So my test is accepting everything you say? Blindly? That's awfully convenient for you, isn't it?"
Siari shook her head.
if night mother has to tell you herself
said you wouldn't survive
not a threat from me
please believe me
Astrid snatched the paper out of Siari's hand and without even reading it, slammed it down on the table, shouting, "I am sick of you and your damn silence and your damn papers and your damn dirty looks all the time! I am sick of you looking at me with your stupid mute face and scribbling on your stupid papers and every conversation lasting hours!" Tears stood in her eyes again and Siari let her have her little breakdown, staring at her with apathetic eyes. It wasn't the first time someone lost patience with her inability to speak. At least Astrid didn't cane her like Grelod did.
Panting, Astrid came to her senses, wiping her tears away with her wrists, ashamed for them, or for her outbreak, or for both. "I'm sorry, Siari… That wasn't fair of me. It's just… so hard to have a conversation with you sometimes. So tiring."
Siari gave a lopsided shrug. She'd heard that before.
Astrid let herself fall in her chair. "Fine. Do what the Night Mother says. I won't get in your way. You'll get to have your moment at my expense. Now leave me."
Siari reached for a piece of paper, but Astrid snapped, "I said leave me!"
There seemed to be, indeed, nothing to be gained by staying.
Gabriella was already asleep, snoring softly. Siari had to smile at the sound. Then her smile broke into a stifled giggle when Gabriella let out a modest gaseous by-product of her digestion in her sleep. There were still some things to be happy about in this dysfunctional little family.
She had trouble sleeping with all the questions and tensions, but she must have at some point, because she opened her eyes to see Gabriella gone. She rose as well, looking for her leathers but not finding them. Strange. Then she noticed the note.
Your leathers are already on site. Wear normal clothes for now. Read the instructions you'll get in my office - A
Shrugging on a tunic and breeches, she trudged for the breakfast table, where she, predictably, found Festus face deep in a caramel pastry. He mumbled a greeting with his mouth full and Siari gave him a smile in return, taking a ladle full of heated milk from the kettle and sploshing it down in a bowl of ground oats.
As she waited, looking at the oats to bind with the milk and turn into porridge, Festus told her, his mouth a little less full, "Big day today."
Siari looked up. "Mm?"
An uncomfortable chuckle from Festus. "So strange to hear you use your voice. But yes, I assume you've heard we're putting the crown on our work today?"
She shook her head. Better to pretend she didn't know, to hear just what Astrid had told her 'family'.
"Yes, yes," Festus said, excited. "Assuming we don't fail miserably, today is the day of the Emp…" he stopped and grinned. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
Siari gave him her most sheepish grin.
"Of course you did," he chuckled. "You're the Listener, after all. Then you also know who's going to plant the dagger?"
Siari flicked her eyebrows.
"… You?" Festus asked, his eyes wide. "Oh, little lady, I do envy you. But I suppose it's only just. You will remember us when you're rich and famous, yes?"
She playfully slapped his shoulder. It was just a job like any other.
He put his hand on top of hers and said, dead serious, "Do it right, my dear. A lot depends on this." It looked a bit ludicrous with his chin smeared with caramel. "Our family needs this."
Siari nodded to reassure him. Then she smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt. She was going to assassinate the Emperor of Cyrodiil. No job had the potential to go so tragically wrong as this one. When she felt her belly knot at the stress, she quickly shifted her thoughts somewhere else, staring at her porridge and decided, why not, to shovel in a spoonful of sugar, prompting a hoarse laugh from Festus. "That's my girl!"
She ate her porridge while Festus polished off the caramel pastry, then went to Astrid's office to get her instructions.
"Siari Siari Siari!"
That could only be one person. Siari grinned as she turned to see Babette running towards her on her short little legs.
"It's today, it's today!" Babette grabbed her sleeve with both hands and chirped, "Tell me you're the one that gets to do it! Tell me it's you! It's got to be you, right?"
Siari indulged her with a smile and a roll of her eyes, nodding in confirmation.
Babette bounced, still holding Siari's sleeve. "Eee! I knew it! I so knew it!"
Siari had to laugh along at Babette's excitement.
Babette let go, still beaming. "Wish I'd get to shank the old fart myself, but you were totally my second choice."
Siari gave her a curtsy, then pointed towards Astrid's office.
"Oh, of course! Go get 'em, girl!"
Oh, she would. Hopefully. First she had to stomach some more Astrid, though. She knocked on the door, but there was no response. She waited a few seconds, then raised her hand to knock again, but before she could, the door swung open and Arnbjorn shoved a parcel in her hand. "Astrid's instructions," he said gruffly. "She's not here right now."
She raised her hand in thanks, but all she got was a hateful look from Arnbjorn. "Fuck off."
Not even a meat-related nickname. He must be really angry. But then, what did she expect.
On the way out, she ran into Gabriella, who had a basket of herbs and ingredients under her arm. "Siari. On your way out, huh? I assume that means…?"
She assumed correctly.
Gabriella put the basket down and gently took Siari by the shoulders. "I'm not going to babble about what an honour it is. But Siari… be careful, alright? I mean it. This'll be like nothing before. I don't want to see anything happen to my bunkmate." She cast a furtive glance around, then said quietly, bringing her face closer, "If it gets too dangerous, just drop it and get out, alright? No matter how important everyone says this is, your life matters more."
It was nice to hear, but she had a job to do, and failure wasn't an option. She had no doubt that the Night Mother's tolerance for failure was close to non-existent.
"Hey," Gabriella said, taking Siari's face in her hands. She hated being touched so intimately, but she knew she had to allow it to avoid hurt feelings. "I'm serious, alright? I know you've got the skill to pull this off, but take no risks, you hear?"
Siari nodded.
Gabriella planted a light, short kiss of friendship on Siari's lips. "Come back, no matter what it takes. And that's an order."
Shadowmere waited for her outside with stomping hooves. She mounted the animal and let it take her to Solitude, holding one hand on the reins and reading the papers Astrid had prepared with the other. Also in the parcel were some overclothes and a small vile of viscous black liquid. Seemed it would be a poisoning rather than a shanking. Made sense, because no way would she be allowed to carry a knife near the Emperor, Gourmet or not.
She read on, Astrid's writing describing the procedure to be followed in ice cold sterility. She was to pose as the Gourmet, present herself at the castle in Solitude, and from there, proceed to the kitchen, to make the Empoeror's finest meal. While cooking, she had to mix in the poison without it being observed. The last part of the job was getting out safely. There was no doubt that it would be a challenge to escape after the Emperor was poisoned and you were the one making the food. It wasn't like they'd be suspecting the bootblack first.
There was a plan of the castle, and another paper was a writ of passage, a piece of papyrus reinforced with cotton fibres, gold trimmed, marking her as the Gourmet and granting her special access to all kitchen and pantry areas, as well as allowing her presence at the dinner table. Siari wasn't so sure about that last bit.
Solitude came closer, and with it, the Dark Brotherhood's salvation or destruction. There was no doubt this Amaund Motierre fellow was setting himself up to be Titus Mede's replacement, so he'd probably remember what the Brotherhood had done for him, but if she failed… she doubted Titus Mede would reward their efforts the same way.
She dismounted and retreated into a nearby bush to don the festive and expensive overclothes, a tight robe cinched at the waist, purple and yellow in colour and rather generous in cleavage, and a nobleman's hat in the same colours, with a feather worked into the side. She could wear them over her leathers without it being too conspicuous, so all she'd have to do to make her getaway was retrieve them after being searched. Astrid's instructions had said they were stashed in the reservoir of the water closets at the donjon level. Good.
She felt ill at ease in the festive noblewoman's clothing (if only it had been a bridesmaid's dress!), but she was determined not to show it. She was, after all, the Gourmet. No one knew what she was supposed to look like. The Gourmet could easily be a teenage Nord with a finger and tongue missing.
Walking up to the Solitude gates, she presented herself to the guard who stood beside the door, leaning on his spear.
"Guest or staff?" he intoned in a bored voice, but when he noticed her, he snorted. "Nevermind. Must be a guest, judging by the fancy clothes."
Siari wondered how this guy still had a job and hadn't been beheaded by a furious noble ten times already. She held out the writ of passage with a smile, determined not to make any waves.
"Well I'll be. I'spose that's staff then." He whistled between his teeth. "The famous Gourmet. Never thought he'd be a she. And certainly not a waif like you."
It hadn't been a compliment. Apparently her expensive clothes couldn't hide her less than glorious social status. If she let him go on, he'd probably get suspicious, so she placed her hands in her sides and gave him a scorching frown.
"Fine, fine," he backed off. "Go on in. Go make some dishes for the Emperor while our bellies grumble."
Oh boo-hoo. She ignored him and went inside. A valet came to meet her, a young lad with a bowl cut and Solitude livery. "Greetings, welcome, welcome. May I invite you to follow me to the garden for refreshments and musical entertainment?"
Siari shook her head and held out the writ.
"Oh my," the valet peeped, his eyes going wide. He looked at the writ again to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him, but then he said, "My word, I'd never dreamed I'd meet the famous Gourmet. And so young, and so…" He suddenly remembered himself and going purple with embarrassment, he stammered, "Oh, but forgive me, where are my manners. I sincerely apologize for this lapse in – "
Siari held up a hand to quiet him, but gave him a smile to make sure he knew no harm was done. The less fuss, the better.
"Right, I'll… I'll shut up and do my job. Your forgiveness." He was still purple, the poor guy. He was pretty cute, looking like that. "Please, allow me to show you to the kitchen. You must be very eager to get started."
He led her up a winding staircase, occasionally weaving to let servants pass who carried baskets of foodstuffs, some up, some down. The ones going down invariably had one or two spoiled pieces of fruit or vegetable inside them. How wasteful to throw away the whole basket because of a few rotten bits.
"Gianna is a fine cook, but her skills pale to your art, Gourmet," the valet expounded as he walked ahead of her. "She makes a wonderful butternut soup especially, but only because she followed your recipe. I must say, your suggestion of adding some dried and crushed dragon's claw leaves was pure genius."
Yes, yes, she knew she was wonderful.
"And then your cream and cocoa scones. Oh, such joy in such a small scone."
Please, you do me too much honour.
"But what I especially adored was the cake with carrot shavings. Carrots in a cake! It takes a true artist to come up with – "
An Imperial woman with tanned skin stood at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed. "Was I not clear? No guests in the kitchen, Bennard! Did you have shit in your ears when I told you?"
"Mistress Gianna…" the boy said quietly, the cook's withering tirade reducing him to half his size, "… this is the Gourmet."
The brown-haired woman needed a moment to let it sink in. How strangely she was dressed. She had a chef's hat on her head, but her clothes were decidedly un-chef-like. Her laced white bodice, which only barely restrained her bulging breasts, belonged more in a brothel than a kitchen. Then again, Siari's outfit wasn't exactly appropriate either.
"This? The Gourmet?" the woman asked, overcoming her initial surprise.
"She has the writ, mistress Gianna."
"Well I'll be," the cook breathed. "I'd imagined a lot of things, but never… someone your age. Stunning. Just… stunning." She cleared her throat. "Very well, Bennard, make yourself scarce, I'll handle it from here."
"But – " the valet protested.
"I said go, Bennard." She shooed him away.
He bowed low, first to the cook, and then to Siari and muttered, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Gourmet." Siari didn't fail to notice his eyes briefly straying over the top of her breasts when he left. Heh, boys.
"I swear, that one…" the chef muttered, shaking her head as if Siari and she were comrades-in-arms in the fight against the uneducated lower classes. "Now, esteemed Gourmet, shall we begin?"
Oh Sithis, they were actually going to ask her to cook. Apart from roasting meat on a campfire or mixing oats with hot milk, she'd never cooked anything before. This was going to be… uncomfortable. Still, she could probably get Gianna to do most of the cooking, and deduct which kind of ingredients would fit the dish. It would be comical if so much wasn't at stake.
She motioned for Gianna to lead on, and she did, taking her to the kitchen. Where the magic happened.
"Voilà," Gianna intoned, sweeping her arms around the kitchen. "I do believe that even for the Gourmet, this facility offers a cornucopia of ingredients and utensils."
It did. It was a very impressive kitchen. There were spoons, and uh, more spoons. Knives. Ladles. Pots. Pans. Tools she didn't know. More tools she didn't know. Oh, and on the other wall, more tools she didn't know. Right next to the tools she didn't know, which hung above tools she didn't know.
"I must say, Gourmet," Gianna leaned into her, giddy as a college-girl, all her previous nose-in-the-air bearing gone. "I can't express what an honour it is to prepare the dish of all dishes with you."
Siari blinked. Uh, what was she supposed to make?
"Why… the Potage Le Magnifique, of course!" Gianna exclaimed. "I mean… you will permit me to be present during its preparation? I would consider it a signal honour to – "
Siari shut her up with a wave of her hand. Of course she would let her be present. Oblivion, she'd even let Gianna do the work, because she was the only one who could actually make soup that didn't taste like worn loincloth. But she couldn't blow her cover now. Gianna would have to do most of the work, if not all, but somehow Siari had to make Gianna come up with the ideas, yet think they came from Siari.
Perhaps… yes, that would work. Siari nodded and motioned to the pot of water already boiling on the fire.
"Will you… not speak to me, Gourmet?"
Ah yes, of course, this woman didn't know about Siari's little obstacle when it came to speaking. There was no point coming up with idiot fabrications, so she did what she always did and made a writing motion with her hand.
"Y... you wish to…? Of course, of course." She pulled open a drawer, searching feverishly for any writable surface, and ended up tearing a blank page out of the recipe booklet. Then she handed Siari a plume and pot of ink with a short bow. "If this is your preferred means of communication, Gourmet…"
Preferred? No. Siari smiled, shook her head and made a chopping motion next to her neck. After an initial puzzled look, Gianna's eyes went wide with understanding. "Oh forgive me, Gourmet, I had no idea. How dreadful."
Siari only shrugged and made a throw-away gesture. She'd gotten used to it over the years, after all.
Gianna clapped her hands and rubbed them together. "Now then, may I suggest we begin? Forgive me, I am all but trembling with anticipation." She put her index finger to her lips, thinking. "Now then, I assume we start with the base? Will we be using chicken stock or beef stock? Or perhaps vegetable?"
Dipping the plume in ink, Siari wrote,
what do you think?
impress me
Gianna read it, and her excitement only grew. "Oh, oh, I see. Hmm, since the Potage Le Magnifique is known to be slightly rich, that rules out vegetable stock." Her eyes immediately flicked up to Siari's. "Or does it? Perhaps… No, no, it can't be vegetable. So beef or chicken." Covering her mouth with her hand, she mumbled, "Beef or chicken… I'm going to have to guess. Chicken?"
Any guess was just fine to Siari. She gave the cook an encouraging nod, who responded with a relieved release of breath. "So, chicken. Chicken it is."
Gianna took the stopper from a jar and poured in a large helping of murky brown liquid, which Siari assumed was concentrated chicken stock.
"Now then, the Potage Le Magnifique is at its core, a tomato-based soup, yes?"
If you say so, Gianna.
"I've taken the liberty of already preparing the tomatoes. Boiled, peeled and diced."
How thoughtful of you, Gianna.
In they went. Gianna asked the Gourmet for the next ingredients, and every time, Siari pretended to test her, and every time, Gianna magically got the ingredient right, except the few times she 'didn't', and Siari corrected her just so it wouldn't seem too suspicious. The soup had been brought to flavour with mudcrab meat, ground Nirnroot, fire salts, a dash of honey, and several other ingredients, all carefully selected by Gianna while Siari leaned on the counter with her arms crossed, enjoying the spectacle. If cooking was always this fun, she'd do it more often.
Eventually, the soup was ready, Siari giving her the nod when Gianna, still fidgeting with enthusiasm, asked if the Potage le Magnifique was, indeed, magnifique.
"Would you… would you like to sample it, Gourmet?" Gianna had a wooden spoon dipped in the kettle. The smell of the soup made her hungry, and it would be inappropriate not to sample one's own soup, made by one's own hands, so Siari took the spoon, blew on the hot soup, and with a modest slurp, sampled it.
It was the absolute best soup she'd ever had. She wanted to close her eyes in ecstasy, but it wouldn't be very convincing if the Gourmet had a culinary orgasm about the soup she'd made so many times before, so she stuck to a modest nod. "Mm."
"You… you approve?"
She wrote,
i do
certainly a laudable effort
well done gianna
"Oh Gourmet," Gianna fawned. "Surely I was but your servant doing the legwork. All the inspiration, all the balancing of ingredients, all the vision was yours."
Glad you think so, Gianna.
There was one more thing, though. The 'secret ingredient'. Since this Gianna person was so gullible, Siari wouldn't even have to add it clandestinely. She held up a finger, produced the vial of viscous black liquid from her robe and took the stopper out.
"Ah," Gianna exclaimed. "A secret ingredient! I know better than to ask what it is, even though I'm burning with curiosity."
With a mysterious smile, Siari emptied the vial into the soup. If Gianna was lucky, she'd never experience just what it was that made this particular potage so magnifique. She reached for the wooden spoon, but Siari stopped her, placing her fingers on Gianna's wrist. Woman, you are not ruining everything by dying on me now, before the Emperor's had his fill.
"What's wrong? Am I not worthy to…?"
Siari quickly wrote,
secret ingredient must settle
takes time
ruins the taste if sampled too early
"Oh, I see," Gianna exclaimed. "Gosh, you are so full of mysteries, Gourmet!"
Not really. That any 'secret ingredient' in soup made for the Emperor was doubtless a poison was no mystery unless you were a gullible, star-struck cook with only half a functioning brain.
"Shall I… shall I announce that the Potage Le Magnifique is ready to be enjoyed by the Emperor?"
Siari nodded and wrote,
give secret ingredient fifteen minutes to settle
To make it more convincing, she added,
no more
no less
then serve
i will wait for you at the banquet
That should do it. Give her enough time to put her leathers on under her frock, so she could make her escape when it was time. Sithis, that would be the hard part. Getting out of there when she was the prime suspect. Then again, she didn't need to get close to the Emperor or perform any more deeds to accomplish the assassination. All she needed was for the Emperor to have a nice spoonful of magnificent soup. If she made sure she was far enough away from the guards when the Emperor started spluttering, she'd be able to make a clean getaway. Hopefully. Her heart beat fast in her chest.
"Very well, Gourmet. It has been such an honour working with you," Gianna gushed. "I look forward to seeing the Emperor delight in your culinary arts."
Siari gave her a nod, then proceeded towards the banquet. When she came out of the kitchen, two guards were, predictably, posted in the corridor to provide security and make sure no unauthorized persons came through. Siari had no doubt the whistles hanging from chains around their necks could summon a small army instantly, if need be. She played it cool and presented her writ.
"Ah, the Gourmet," one of the guards said, reading the paper. "Hadn't expected you to be so young."
Yeah, she got that a lot.
"I'll need to search you before you go in. Strictly protocol, you understand."
Neither of the soldiers seemed to be the lecherous type, but still, letting an unknown man touch her was an experience she was not prepared to enjoy. She cocked her head and made an impatient face.
"Oh, of course," the guard realized. "Crixus, go get Selea, she's just downstairs."
The other guard nodded, jogged off, and after a few uncomfortable silent moments in the corridor with just Siari and the soldier, a female guard came up the stairs, visibly annoyed at having to move, and did a thorough but unenthusiastic body search. Good thing she hadn't tried to bring a knife in, because the woman, despite her bothered behaviour, searched her so methodically Siari was surprised she didn't put on a leather glove with an oiled forefinger before declaring her safe.
"She's clean."
The first soldier smiled and motioned towards the corridor behind him. "Be welcome, Gourmet. Have a wonderful day, hopefully without unpleasant surprises."
Huh? What did he just say? Siari was momentarily off balance from the remark, but she couldn't drop her cover now. Blinking, she proceeded down the corridor. What in Oblivion had that guy meant? Was it just an innocent remark, or…?
Regardless, she'd come this far, no way back. She took a breath and felt the air come out in trembling cadence. Closing her eyes, she quelled her nervousness as best she could, then proceeded to the royal water closet. This was past the security check, so no one would notice if she wore Brotherhood leathers underneath her robe. As Astrid's notes had suggested, she found her leather, packed behind a false panel in the custodian's cupboard. She quickly donned it and threw her robe over it. The garment was made so it could be easily torn off, with only a few strips keeping it together at her back, making for a quick and easy way to remove any impediments to her escape.
Not much time. This was do or die. She strode towards the banquet hall, high up in the castle's donjon, up and up the winding staircase. Thankfully, there were no nobles or royals whose paths she crossed, and she could proceed to the banquet hall without uncomfortable or dangerous encounters.
"Ah! The Gourmet," the soldier at the door welcomed her. This one wore different armour than the Solitude palace guard, a red and black breastplate with the insignia of an eye inside a diamond on it. The Penitus Oculatus, the Emperor's personal protectors, whose second-in-command she'd launched off a bridge and down to his death at the foot of a waterfall in Markarth. At his flank was a Bosmer soldier clad in the same armour, with striking straight blonde hair. "Such an honour to see you. My colleague here is a great admirer of yours. Isn't that right, Roëlaï?"
"Most certainly," the Bosmer confirmed. "I find your recipe for slaughterfish dumplings especially visionary. Not every chef would dare to employ slaughterfish meat."
She made a curtsy, smiling broadly at the two guards, then pointed at the door with a questioning look.
"Of course, of course. The banquet is ready, all in attendance are waiting for you to grace them with your presence."
The blonde mer opened the door for her and she proceeded through.
She had to swallow as she saw the occupants of the banquet hall, high in the donjon. There were several nobles, one of them Jarl Elisif the Fair. Astrid would be disappointed, she wasn't a troll with pig-ears, but a stunningly gorgeous woman. But the nobles weren't the most important attendees. Flanked by a high-ranking member of the Penitus Oculatus, a man with dark rings under his eyes and poorly combed brown hair, sat her target, Emperor Titus Mede, an old man, his head smoothly shaved while his grey beard was long and immaculately groomed. He wore a gorgeous blue cloak, trimmed with fur that looked so soft Siari wanted to touch it. Underneath was a red and gold garment, spotless and clearly woven by the best tailor Nirn had to offer. The Imperial dragon crest was emblazoned on the chest. This was the Emperor alright. Her heart pounded in her chest.
"Now that the Gourmet is here, the banquet is officially complete," the Emperor announced, smiling broadly. He didn't look like a bad sort. But then again, they never did. "I must say, Gourmet, you defy my expectations." He chuckled. "I had expected a short, balding Breton with a pot belly and a red, sweaty face, but instead, we are joined by quite the charming presence indeed."
Even though the compliment was undeserved and not even meant for her, Siari did feel herself turning red.
"Your modesty is refreshing, Gourmet, but unnecessary. Do you know that in all these years, I have never had the pleasure of sampling your Potage le Magnifique? I look forward to rectifying this grievous error in judgment today."
Gianna stood to the side, smiling broadly and giving her a supportive wink. The Penitus Oculatus officer sitting next to the Emperor was far less friendly, giving her a look of outright suspicion, and even hostility. But Siari supposed mistrusting people was part of his job.
"Have I upset or offended you in any way, my dear?" the Emperor (the Emperor!) asked, his concern actually looking genuine. "I do hope your silence does not mean discomfort or reservation on your part?"
Siari hastily shook her head.
"That is a relief, but in that case, do not be afraid to speak. I may be the Emperor, but I'm just a normal person like you. Please, do not feel intimidated or inhibited. Indeed, it is I who should be awed. I was born an Emperor through no merit of my own, but your cooking requires dedication, skill, vision, hard work. You are the one we should be admiring."
Siari could do nothing more than make the same chopping motion next to her neck.
Gianna, thankfully, leaned in and whispered, "My Lord Emperor, forgive me… the Gourmet is not able to speak. She is a mute."
"Ah!" the Emperor exclaimed. "I see. For a minute there I thought you were threatening to behead me." He laughed loudly, seeming to honestly enjoy himself. Siari actually liked the man. Not enough to blow the whole plan for him, nowhere near, but still. She'd expected some puffed-up, pompous wind bag, but it turned out the Emperor of Cyrodiil was a pleasant, down-to-earth fellow. So much the better for him, Siari supposed, but the plan was in motion and would not be stopped.
"Now then," the Emperor declared, wringing his hands. "I look forward to your Potage le Magnifique. Please, my dear Gourmet, do me the honour of your first serving."
He held out his deep plate, a magnificent piece of porcelain, crisp white and trimmed with gold. The plate alone looked to be worth more than any Dark Brotherhood contract. With a nervous bow, she sploshed a ladleful of potage in the plate, realizing painfully well how unprofessional she must look doing it. She set the plate of poisoned soup before the Emperor, then backed away. He didn't employ a sampler, or at least, didn't have one with him now. The Gourmet must be of a great reputation indeed to be trusted so implicitly.
The Emperor took in the aroma of the soup with closed eyes. "I must say, I am tempted to throw all my dignity out the window and pour this miraculous creation straight down my gullet."
A balcony door was open on the far side of the banquet hall, to provide fresh air. That was her means of escape. There were no soldiers there, only a few noble poofs she could easily evade. From the balcony, she'd find a spot to jump to. There had to be turrets or ledges nearby, even at this dizzying height.
"I shall use a spoon instead," the Emperor laughed, several nobles laughing with him.
Siari held her breath as the Emperor's spoon dipped in the red, steaming soup, and came back up.
Come on, eat it. Eat it.
He took another whiff of the aroma, Siari's heart beating so hard she was afraid her eyes would pop out of their sockets.
And then he did it. His beard and moustache parted, and in went the spoon. Sithis, this was really happening! The Dark Brotherhood had just assassinated the Emperor. She'd done it, she'd done it.
"Mm. Gourmet," the Emperor announced with a broad smile, "You have truly outdone yourself."
You have no idea.
Still, nothing happened so far. No choking, no hand on his belly, no surprised, pained look. Alright, so the poison was not so fast-acting. That was fine. It would give her more time to get away.
"Tell me, my Emperor," the man sitting next to her mark suddenly spoke, his upper lip pulled back. "Did you notice any… unusual flavours?"
What? What was going on here? Siari's throat went instantly dry.
"Mm," the Emperor thought, sampling the aftertaste in his mouth. "There was… a flavour I did not expect, indeed. Sweet, somehow. Not truly in touch with the others." A short silence as the Emperor looked at the ceiling, his mouth moving. "Liquorice root?"
The man next to the Emperor made a triumphant, hateful grin. "Guards! Arrest that woman!"
What in Oblivion…
Siari's eyes flashed over the faces in front of her. The Emperor's look was puzzled and surprised, but the Penitus Oculatus soldier rose, drawing his short sword. Gianna, too, had a glare of pure hate on her face.
Oh no. Oh shit, they knew. They knew.
"Commander, what is going on here?"
"This young lady," he growled the word between his teeth, as if he wanted to call her something else entirely, but not in the presence of his Emperor, "is an assassin sent by the Dark Brotherhood."
Siari felt like she was going to wet and shit herself at the same time.
"Or at least," he snarled, stepping towards her, "a would-be assassin."
"Calm now," the Emperor said. Behind her, Siari could feel guards closing in. "Before we do anything rash, I would like an explanation. She has nowhere to go, so please, let us deal with this in a dignified manner."
The Commander's face was a mask of hatred, but he remained where he was.
"Commander Maro?" the Emperor said calmly. "Please explain what is going on here."
"This… woman is an assassin, like I said," the Commander growled between gritted teeth. "She was sent here to poison you, posing as the Gourmet, whom you have doubtless murdered, haven't you, creature?"
Siari couldn't speak. She wouldn't have been able to speak even if she'd been able to. Tears came to stand in her eyes, troubling her vision. How did they know? How did they know?
"I can see what you want to ask," the man said with a broad, evil grin. "But you'll never know."
"So if I understand this correctly," the Emperor asked, still not understanding, "you knew of an assassination attempt and just let it happen?"
"Of course not, my Lord Emperor. We were uncertain of the veracity of our source, and didn't want to implicate the real Gourmet, so we swapped her bottle of poison with liquorice root extract. The worst she could do was make the soup taste funny.'
"You're not the only ones who've got quick hands, murderer," Gianna bit at her. Oh Sithis, she'd been thinking she had Gianna fooled, and all the time, it had been the other way around.
"Child?" the Emperor asked, his voice filled with genuine, sincere disappointment. "Is this true?"
Siari could only lower her head. She'd failed. The Emperor was alive and well. She'd poisoned him with liquorice. She was a failure, a disgrace. But how? Why? How had they known? There was only one possibility, but Siari refused to consider it. She didn't dare to.
"Now, men, take her into custody. You were caught red-handed, so no trial is needed. I'll see you kick at the end of a rope."
"Perhaps we needn't be so harsh," the Emperor said gently, stopping the advancing bodyguards with a raise of his hand. "Perhaps we're simply dealing with a lost child, indoctrinated and misguided. After all, she has committed no murder. I yet live, and no real harm has been done."
"On the contrary, my Lord Emperor," the Penitus Oculatus leader said back. "She has committed at least three murders. That of two Penitus Oculatus members, and of my second-in-command. My son."
It was the truth. Siari knew it, and so did the Emperor. With a heavy sigh, he said, "In that case, child, I can do nothing for you. No amount of mercy can absolve you of this." He sighed again. "Take her, men."
The two door guards and Commander Maro advanced on her. It was over. It was best to get caught and be executed rather than suffer the shame of escaping with her failure. If she would even be able to escape.
Run, my Listener. There may yet be hope.
That was…the Night Mother? The Night Mother ordered her to run? But why? Why did she want her to escape? Surely she would not tolerate failure and would consider it Siari's just desserts to see her caught and executed? What was this?
You were betrayed. I cannot help you directly and you are not likely to survive, but you must run. You must seize what little chance you have.
"Grab her!"
Siari tore her dress off, and in the same movement, launched herself to the side past the two door guards. She bounded over the table, aided by her enchanted boots, and leapt between two surprised nobles, to the balcony. The feathered hat bounced off her head.
"Hold your bowstrings, I want her alive! No easy death for her!" she heard Maro shout.
She leapt over the balcony, down to the bridge below her, which connected the donjon to the guard tower. The bridge itself was suspended high above the ground, stretching to the guard tower at the edge of the city, rising up from the riverbank. She landed deftly, but even then, the impact sent a painful shock through her ankles and shins.
She ran, hearing boots come down behind her. The Penitus Oculatus had to climb carefully, unaided by magickal boots, but they would come nonetheless. She ran to the end of the bridge, to the door to the guard tower, hoping through her tears that it was somehow empty.
Skidding to a halt where the door was, she closed her fingers around the handle and pulled.
Barred from the other side, the door did not budge.
No, no, no!
"End of the line, kid."
She turned to see the three Penitus Oculatus members advancing on her.
I am sorry, my Listener. I have failed you.
Short swords drawn, the Emperor's bodyguards stood before her.
"I bet you wonder how we knew you were coming, don't you?" Maro grinned. "Since my Lord Emperor isn't here now, I suppose I can explain before I slowly gut you during a... botched apprehension attempt. I'd explain during the process, but you wouldn't be able to hear me over your own screams."
Siari stood, unarmed, her back to the door. The blonde Bosmer had an arrow pointed at her forehead.
"You were indeed betrayed. By someone who wanted to get rid of you very badly. She made me promise to throw you in jail for the rest of your days, but I've decided to wipe my boot on that promise."
So it was true. Astrid had betrayed her. Siari had suspected her of treachery, but she'd never known she'd do this. Oh, Astrid. Her heart broke when she thought of her 'mother' and the way it had come this far, that she'd sell her out, and the entire Brotherhood, to the Empire just to be rid of her. What had they done to each other? How could they both have let it come this far?
"You murdered my son, and your death will be slow and painful. And speaking of promises, there's another one I'm going to conveniently forget about. The one I made to your leader about not coming after them. After you're dead, either disembowelled right here or swinging bare-assed from the gallows, I'm going to assemble my soldiers and smoke out your entire Sacntuary. Right near Falkreath, isn't it?"
Do not give him the pleasure, my Listener.
But what could she do? She was trapped, nowhere to go. She didn't want to die, but if she had to, she didn't want it to be by this man's hand.
Don't let them take you.
Maro closed in on her, his shortsword drawn. The hateful snarl on his face told her enough. He would murder her slowly and painfully.
Closing her eyes, she lifted her foot, placed it on the battlements on the side of the bridge, and hoisted herself up on them.
The wind buffeted her face, making her fringe dance playfully and sending the tears from her eyes in streaks around the side of her face. The depth was dizzying, the river water lapping against the rocks at the base of the guard tower. Her knees trembled below her.
"You wouldn't dare," Maro snorted. "You don't have the guts. Stop making a fool of yourrself. Come down from there and make it easy on me."
Perhaps she might survive the drop. If she leapt far enough, she might land in the water. At that height, it would be the same as smashing into actual rock, but staying here was certain death. Her knees shook so hard they knocked together and without realizing, she stuck her knuckle in her mouth in terror.
"Don't make me come get you," Maro threatened, coming even closer and holding out his hand to grab her. "You're only making it worse for yourself. We both know you won't jump."
Forgive me, my Listener. I have failed you.
"Come here, damn it!"
Siari closed her eyes, took a breath, looked down at the slowly flowing river water, a hundred metres below. If the fall didn't kill her outright, she would simply drown, unconscious. But letting him take her was an even worse fate. It only took a little bit of courage. Just a little. Just a little bit of courage right now to spare her unspeakable torture later.
Just a little bit of courage.
Pushing the tears from her eyes, she swung her arms back, then launched herself over the edge, her enchanted boots propelling her over, in the direction of the water.
"Shoot her!"
The next moment, a sharp shock blasted through her shoulder, hitting her in mid-air and sending her body into a spiral as it fell, plummeting so fast down to the water that her breath was cut off.
She didn't scream, didn't wail, just accepted her end, resigning to the fact that it would all end her, her mission failed, the Dark Brotherhood failed, the Night Mother failed. She'd let everyone down, betrayed by her mother and by her nonchalant assumption that everything was fine right up to the end.
Her body twisted in the air, her fall completely out of her control, with no way to correct it. She'd land flat on the water, the surface smashing the life from her. She'd wash up downstream as a torn sack of ruptured guts and snapped bones, her eyes eaten and skin gnawed by the fish, a snapped arrow shaft still sticking from her rotting shoulder. At least she'd die quickly compared to what those soldiers on the bridge would have done to her.
The water came closer, and she closed her eyes, spinning through the air. The last thing she realized was that maybe, if she'd been more alert, if she'd allowed those difficult, exhausting feelings to tell her what she needed to hear, if she hadn't chosen the easy way of just suppressing her emotions deep down, she could have given Astrid some reassurance, some understanding, some daughterly love, and it would never have come this far.
If only she'd listened to those feelings instead of just quashing them when they rose. They had been her allies, not her enemies, and she paid for that mistake now. It was only fair.
She got what she deserved.
Then her body struck the water. Briefly, for a moment even shorter than the blink of an eye, she felt the shock, the bones breaking and the organs tearing, and then nothing.