Chapter Forty-Four:

From One Murderer to Another

I could hardly greet anyone else before Aldren grabbed my wrist and led me nearer to the garden in the Arch-Mage's chambers. His gruffness was unnerving and unlike him, but even if I wanted to make a beeline away from him, his grip around me was tight and forceful. The best way to get off his nerves (for whatever I'd done) was to talk my way through it.

"What in Oblivion has gotten into you, Aldren?!"

Then again, I sometimes have a bad habit of not choosing my words very wisely.

"More like, what has gotten into you?!" Aldren released my wrist and whirled on me in front of the large tree growing in the centre of the room. I realized that I could more closely see the faded scars on his face, and his beard had very small bits of grey. "The Night Mother told me of what you did!"

"The who?"

"The Night Mother! The Unholy Matron of the Dread Lord Sithis!"

I snapped my fingers. "Right. The mom-figure of the Dark Brotherhood, right?"

Aldren bared his teeth, showing off his fangs, and growled low. "Treat her with some respect, Greystone." I shrugged, but put my hands in the air, palms facing Aldren, in an effort to display that I would.

"What's going on?" Milos towered over the both of us, yellow eyes scrutinizing as best he could. "Taryn, are you okay?"

"Fine. And you? You got one in the side, right—?"

"The time for that is later!" Aldren snapped. "Why don't you explain to me why you murdered my employer?!"

"Murdered?!" I frowned at the Dunmer. "I didn't murder him! It was self-defense—!"

"Right up until the Night Mother started to watch you, Greystone!"

"What?!" Milos put an arm in front of me, baring his fangs at the Dark Elf. "Stop fooling around, assassin," Milos snarled icily. "That isn't something to joke about."

"If I were joking, I'd have spared Cicero and had him tell you," Aldren replied. "Tell them about what you did! Tell the truth!"

"Why do you care?!" I spat. "You're a bloody assassin!"

"I don't care! I just want to know why!"

"Enough yelling."

Our heads turned (albeit reluctantly) to see Javin slowly hobbling towards us. From what I could see, that poison had really done a number on him. Perhaps it was because of his age?

Healers were holding him to steady him, but paid very little attention to us at all. I must have looked confused, because Javin smiled wearily at me.

"They underwent an enchantment that stops them from hearing any of us unless I make it so," he explained quietly. "What we say in this chamber is for our ears alone."

"Javin, you should be resting—."

The Arch-Mage silenced Hiemdall with the wave of a hand. "No need. I would like to hear this. Please, explain what Aldren wants."

"I'm not even sure if I understand, myself," I said thinly, but more pointedly to Aldren.

Aldren's glowing, crimson eyes narrowed further. "The Night Mother spoke to me. Said you escaped from that old fort with some old codger and my employer; the one who sent me after you."

"Arnand Bienne?" Milos asked.

"Yes." Aldren's upper lip curled. "Something happened. Your wagon was overturned. The older one died. Bienne hung by a cliff. What did you do?"

"Picked him up—!"

"—And let him fall to his death."

"That doesn't make me a murderer!"

"And it doesn't make you a hero either!"

"Who ever said I was a Gods-damned hero?!"

I felt someone grab my arm. I realized it was Hiemdall. "Calm. Down!" he hissed into my ear. "You don't want to get all hairy do you?!"

"To Oblivion with it! I'm pissed at the moment, thanks!" I refocused on Aldren. "Do you know how much that bastard ruined my life?! Everything I worked for, gone! Everyone I cared about, gone! And then he follows me here! He ruins everything! And I killed him for it! I'd do it a thousand times over if I had to!"

"And that is why Sithis is watching, you Gods-damned fool! You're not a murderer, so stop this bloody little attention-seeking charade!"

"Attention-seeking?! You half-witted ox! I ought to rip your guts out—!"

"Then bring it on, you Imperial twerp!"

I snapped and lunged at Aldren, just barely managing to evade Milos and Hiemdall. My fist planted into the side of the Dunmer's jaw as I shouted at him. I wasn't even sure what I was saying, but it was over quickly as he began to fight back and even went for his daggers. Hiemdall and Milos immediately pried us apart, Milos holding me securely in both his arms while Hiemdall faced Aldren.

"ENOUGH!" the Nord shouted. "What was the point of this?!"

Aldren nursed his jaw, his nose twitching as his lip did in disdain. "If she continues down this course, I'll have to recruit her to the brotherhood. With Sithis and the Night Mother watching, it has now become difficult to move freely."

"What do you mean?" Javin asked calmly. I couldn't read him, for some reason. He was more serious than usual rather than his jolly and excitable self.

"She killed the man who hired me," Aldren explained. "The contract is left unfinished, and even killing her now wouldn't get us our payment. Besides, the unusual circumstance of a Werewolf Dragonborn has their ethereal, undead eyebrows raised."

"So you thought to provoke me for no Gods-damned reason?!" I snarled.

He glared at me. "Don't take my meaning wrongly, Greystone; I did so to warn you, so you wouldn't forget. If you murder someone again, Sithis will want you. And I will be obliged to bring you into his fold, or have you meet him in person."

"And this is why having an assassin at our backs probably wasn't the wisest decision," Milos murmured behind me. He shook me a bit. "Hey, talk to me. You okay?"

"Are your hands or feet numb?" Hiemdall asked, turning to me.

I flexed my hands, noticing the loss of feeling. "Yeah... Why?"

Hiemdall bent over so he was eye-level with me. "Calm. Down," he repeated, softer this time. "We don't want a repeat of what happened last time."

"You mean she's turning?"

"Early stages," Hiemdall assured the Argonian. "Easy to stop now. Just breathe in and out. In through the mouth, out through the nose. All right?"

I nodded, and attempted to shoot another glare at Aldren, but Hiemdall blocked my vision. "Stop focusing on what's pissing you off, aye? Focus on being calm."

"Yes, Master Hiemdall," I responded, hoping that he caught my undertone of sarcasm. "Greybeards are getting to you... And why in Oblivion can't I just turn it on and off like you?!"

Hiemdall paused, and then grinned. "Have you ever made a sweetroll?"

"... Huh?"

"A sweetroll? All sweet and rolly?"

"I know what a sweetroll is!" I snapped. "What does it have to do with this?!"

"Well, think of the Circle like this: when making a sweetroll, you put all the dry ingredients together, and then all the wet ingredients together, and then you pour the wet on top of the dry. Now, imagine that that's where it ends with the Companions. It hasn't been mixed; just added. You've been mixed together."

"I've just been compared to a sweetroll, and I'm not sure what I should be feeling..."

"Take it from me," Aldren said, "and pretend what the dog said was much smarter than it actually was." He paused and then turned to leave, stopping at the door momentarily. "I won't apologize, Greystone, for what I've told you. You've been warned. What you do with what I've said is your choice. I'll see you all when the cat returns."

With that Aldren left Javin's chambers, and the excitement, for the moment, had ended.