Chapter Fifty-Six:

Eye for an Eye

Milos had fallen into a dead sleep near the door into Hjerim once the excitement had finally dulled down. As he stretched and yawned in waking, he noticed that the ever-watchful Dark Brotherhood Listener had hardly moved an inch from his chosen spot facing the hidden door. Not even a hair on his head had moved (although Milos had to acknowledge the assassin was wearing a hood, so he wouldn't know even if the Dunmer had dyed his hair purple).

A sharp rap at the door startled the Argonian and put him on alert. For a brief moment, he'd thought Taryn had knocked from within the wardrobe, but he realized the sound had come from the main door.

Milos slowly opened it to reveal Javin beckoning him outside. Hiemdall tapped his shoulder silently as Milos exited and Hiemdall took his place; a switch of the watch.

Javin had outside an older Imperial woman with short white hair and light blue eyes. She seemed genuinely interested in the house where the first victim of the Butcher had lived, but quickly became even more interested in the Argonian that came out of the abandoned manor.

The Redguard gestured to her. "Milos, this is Viola Giordano. She has some knowledge about the Butcher."

"I've been following him for months now," the old woman declared. "Well, not actually following. Trying to find him. The guards won't help. The people won't help. I'm the only one who thinks he can be caught!"

Milos fished one of the journals of the Butcher's from his backpack and handed it to her. He didn't much care which one it was. "We found this while investigating the home. Seems he made Hjerim his base."

"Huh?" Viola took the bloodstained book from Milos' scaly hands and flipped through it. "What's it say...?" she mused when her eyes lingered on the page of "ingredients".

"I managed to track down a man who knew about our amulet," Javin told Milos while Viola slowly poured over the pages. "He called it the Wheelstone, an heirloom of Windhelm carried by the court mage."

"Wuunferth." The man's name came out of Viola's mouth with a lingering, disgusted tone. "There have been rumours swirling about him for years. As long as I can remember. But he's a dangerous man. It's why they call him 'the Unliving'. I wouldn't approach him directly." She spotted the seal of Windhelm hooked onto Milos' belt and quickly returned the journal. "This information needs to go straight to the steward. He'll listen to you."

The woman swiftly bade them farewell and returned to whatever routine her day demanded she follow. Milos pursed his lips and looked at Javin, whose brows were knotted. The Arch-Mage, somehow, wasn't convinced.

"What do you make of it?" Milos prompted him, hoping for some sort of a clear clue.

Javin shook his head sadly. "I don't know," he admitted. "Wuunferth is the court mage of Windhelm, and it's true that he sports a moniker that seems necromantic, but I always assumed it was because of his age. He is an old man, and possibly even old enough to rival an elf. But he's never sought necromantic power of any sort. He's a member of the College of Winterhold, after all. And this is banned, which is the reason why the Butcher apparently left it in the first place."

"Right..."

"And this 'Wheelstone'... I can't recall in any of my studies or research a mention of such an object."

Milos leaned against the stones of the manor and tried to ignore the picture of the evil mage he and Taryn had once dreamed of engaging in battle as children. "Where is it now?"

Javin pursed his lips. "I took it to Calixto, who told me of its name and power. He runs a full shop of curiosities and thought it best to take it off my hands."

"What, you sold it to him?"

"I did. See, if the Butcher knows we have access to Hjerim, he will think one of us has his Wheelstone. It was clearly a poor attempt at stashing it when we found it, which means he was in a rush. He will then target us and ignore Calixto, and he, unbeknownst to himself, will protect it. Hardly anyone goes into that shabby thing anyhow."

Milos rubbed his eyes, but found himself agreeing with the Redguard. Best they take the attention away from others, and he didn't mind getting rid of that Gods-forsaken trinket. He didn't much like enchanted things. There was too much power within them.

"What's our next move?" he asked carefully.

Javin glanced inward, towards Hjerim. "I'd like to wait for Taryn and make sure she's all right, but I have a feeling we'll merely be wasting time. We ought to speak with Wuunferth. I'm sure he's remained faithful to the college and its ideals, but there's no harm in checking, is there?"

"And if he hasn't?" Milos inquired cautiously. "What if he's gone rogue? I'm not the fastest against a mage."

"Ah, but that's why you have me, dear boy!" Javin exclaimed with a grin and patted the massive Argonian on the shoulder. "If we must fight fire with fire, who better to be there than yours truly?"

"I dunno, a Dragon?"

"Oh, don't get smart with me. Let's be off, shall we?"

The two immediately travelled to the Palace of the Kings. Now that the streets were illuminated with daylight rather than torchlight, people were out of their homes and bustling through the streets. Rumours about the Butcher's latest victim were already flying across the main square of the town that made home to Candlehearth Hall, which was oddly appropriate considering who the victim was. It made Milos sigh in relief that Taryn was not among the body count of only three.

Milos followed Javin inside, since the wizard seemed to know exactly where the court mage would be. The halls within the palace were dark and narrow, the only light radiating from the scarce torches on the walls. At the end of one particular stretch of hallway were candles burning brightly from within a room, but some were shrouded by a robed figure with a cowl drawn far down his face. He was leaning over a table with runes carved into its surface, and they glowed softly against the light of the candles. Even as they were approaching, Milos could see the skull and books strewn across the table while the mage slowly and meticulously wrote down whatever was on his mind. Spells, the Argonian guessed.

"Wuunferth!" Javin called, startling Milos. "How good to see you here!"

Milos glared darkly at the Arch-Mage. So much for a stealth approach, he thought grimly.

Wuunferth didn't give them much attention and merely grunted in response. He appeared too engrossed in his research to even realize who was calling him. Milos had to wonder if he treated the Jarl in such a way. If he did, Milos found himself liking the man better.

It took a few seconds for Wuunferth to fully notice them, but when he did he almost appeared surprised at their appearance. Milos could now see his face, and what struck him the most was the weathered but stern look in his blue eyes. Certainly nothing was betrayed beyond that. But he had a long and full white beard that marked him as a Nord.

"Hm? Arch-Mage?" Wuunferth frowned. "Really, you came to disturb me at such a crucial point of time in my research? If I lose my train of thought, it's you I'll blame."

"I have no doubt of that." Javin grinned. "So, how's your time here been?"

The old man snorted loudly. "The Jarl's hardly ever stopped by, and only for me to wave away a disease he's been foolish enough to contract—one the gods have seen unfit to relieve him of themselves. Do I look like a nurse?! I am a mage! I specialize in burning things! Not curing the Jarl's 'boo-boos'."

Milos heard the stomping of a soldier nearby. Why the Stormcloak soldier didn't just arrest Wuunferth for treason was beyond him, but Milos figured it might help to put him behind bars if he really was the Butcher while they were questioning him.

Uncontent with beating around the bush, Milos stepped ahead of Javin and tried not to reach for his greatsword. "Seems you specialize in a bit more than setting things on fire," Milos growled. "You're dabbling in necromancy, too, Wuunferth."

Wuunferth, quill still in hand, fixed his attention on the towering Argonian. "I beg your pardon?" he snapped. "Necromancy?! I am a member of the College of Winterhold, in good standing! Just ask your friend there!" Wuunferth slammed his quill onto the table with arcane symbols. Milos tensed, awaiting an attack. "They haven't allowed necromancy for hundreds of years!"

"Er, that would be the Mages Guild in Cyrodiil, Wuunferth..." Javin mumbled.

He earned a dark look from the mage, but Milos didn't stop. "We found your things in Hjerim, Wuunferth. Your journals, your tools, your skeletons, your amulet... Even the pamphlets you collected!"

"My what now?" Wuunferth shook his head distastefully. "I've never kept a journal, I can assure you. What exactly did this amulet you mentioned look like?"

"Eight-sided. Jade ringed with ebony. A worn carving in the centre..." Javin looked at Wuunferth expectantly. "Ring any bells, friend?"

Wuunferth ran a hand down his face and sighed as he leaned against the table. "I know it well," he admitted. "Or at least, I've heard of it. I would wager that carving once depicted a skull."

"It does still," Milos affirmed when he recalled it.

The mage pointed at the two. "That is the Necromancer's Amulet, of legend. And it appears you were at least half right. There is necromancy at the heart of this."

"We figured that out a while back, old man." Milos looked over at Javin. "I guess that Calixto guy was wrong. He called it the Wheelstone."

"Ehh... Calixto and his books are often confused about such matters. It happens to the best of us. But I may be able to help." Wuunferth turned and strode quickly over to his bookshelf. He grabbed a slip of paper between the pages of an ordinary-looking tome and brought it to the table with his research. When he unfolded the parchment, he gestured for the two to approach and pointed to what Milos thought were random spots on different pages, but Javin interpreted it quite differently.

"A chart of the Nirn, Wuunferth?" he asked.

"Correction: a chart of the stars." Wuunferth prodded an especially ancient-looking tome whose pages were brittle to the touch. "I've been noting a pattern to when the killings happen. Now that we know they're tied into some sort of necromantic ritual, I think I know when the next might occur. Let's see..."

Milos began to pace behind the two. It wasn't like he wasn't smart—he enjoyed his bestiaries as much as the next cautionary adventurer—but the overload of cryptic languages within those books of Wuunferth's were making his spin.

"From a Loredas of Last Seed until a Middas of Hearthfire... It will happen soon." Milos stopped and watched the mages. "Very soon," Wuunferth added. The court mage spun towards Milos and pointed at him. By that point Milos was no longer anticipating an attack, but the gesture still made him cringe inwardly. "Keep watch in the Stone Quarter tomorrow night. That's almost certainly where the killer will strike next."

"You're sure?" Javin pushed.

"Certain."

They spent the next night in Hjerim after informing Cha'qim, Aldren, Hiemdall and even Eduard about the new development in the case (although they left out the bit about Taryn's current predicament when speaking with the Dragon Priest). And while Eduard was loathe to inquire about Taryn, he grumbled an excuse of some sort about being annoyed if she was stupid enough to die before Alduin could kill her. Milos patrolled most of Windhelm that night, especially the Stone Quarter in case the Butcher decided to act early, but he noticed that Eduard was doing the same. And while he still wasn't a huge fan of the priest, at least he felt he was making himself useful. But Eduard decided to remain at the inn to guard their belongings. If the Butcher thought they still had the Necromancer's Amulet, he'd surely check there.

It wasn't until daybreak the next morning that Milos checked up on Taryn again, and found her back to her former self. Wounded, tired, hungry and indecent, but alive. And alive enough to throw a bone at Milos' head when he didn't even bother to knock. But after that bit, she managed to get herself dressed, but her energy was completely sapped and it wasn't a half-hour later that she'd fallen asleep. Hiemdall had carried her upstairs in the manor to a shabby bed, but a bed nonetheless, and Javin busied himself mending the wounds she'd received from the Butcher.

Later that night, Javin returned from the second floor while wiping clean the blood on his hands. Milos stood when he caught sight of him. He almost absently realized the mage didn't get even a drop of blood on his fur-lined robes.

"How is she?" he asked softly.

Javin shrugged, but not in a way that made Milos uncomfortable. Rather, it felt as if the Arch-Mage was merely relieving the stress in his shoulders.

"Exhausted and not very strong with conversation, but fine otherwise." Javin tucked the bloody rag into his pocket. "Poor girl was delirious for a bit. We had to be very patient with her to calm down. Took a while for her to even recognize Hiemdall and I."

"But she's fine?"

Javin smirked at him. "If you're not going to take me at my word, go see for yourself. She's sleeping at the moment. Oh, and send Hiemdall down. We need to come up with a plan for the Stone Quarter."

Nodding, Milos took the stairs two at a time and followed the hallway to what must have once been the master bedroom. It was wide and spacious, but inhabited by a colony of small spiders. Milos mentally hoped they wouldn't get any bigger than they already were, since he had no desire to stab a giant frostbite spider in the butt again.

After he'd sent Hiemdall to be with Javin, Milos sat by Taryn for the remainder of the day. When nightfall finally came, he and all the others (besides Taryn) travelled to the Stone Quarter. While Milos patrolled around, Cha'qim would be watching from the ramparts, Hiemdall would be chatting with the blacksmith in the market, Eduard would be browsing the available wares, Aldren would be stalking suspicious persons from the shadows, and Javin would keep an eye out around Candlehearth Hall. Milos felt there'd be a very slim chance even one of them wouldn't be able to see anything.

Clerks were busying themselves with closing up later in the night. A few stragglers of customers caught them to purchase something, but all seemed relatively at ease. Even the guards, tensed as they had been, relaxed. Soon everyone would be in their homes, and all would be well.

"Oh! Excuse me!" Milos was passing through the market when he noticed Calixto run up to the meat stall out of breath, which was expected for a man as old as he was. "Are you still open?"

Milos began to chew the inside of his cheek. Had Wuunferth been wrong? Or had he thrown them off his scent long enough for him to skip town, or maybe prepare a spell of some sort? Hjerim's doors were locked, so Taryn was safe, but for how long? Milos' worry had him distracted enough that he didn't percieve the dagger the Butcher pulled from his coat, or the way he clutched the Necromancer's Amulet around his neck. But someone else noticed in his place.

Eduard, with an almost effortless flick of the wrist, parried Calixto's dagger away from Nilsine Shatter-Shield. The sound alerted Milos, and in a single swift motion he unleashed his greatsword. Calixto, eyes boiling with rage, dodged underneath and connected a swift kick against Eduard's knee. The Dragon Priest hollered at him while Calixto made to escape. He headed northward with Milos following him, and soon Eduard caught up and cast some sort of spell on Calixto that had the Butcher shrouded in an ethereal violet light, but as Calixto glanced over his shoulder to view his pursuers, a sword was buried into his gut.

And with his last gasp of air, he saw who had brought him to his end.

Dragonbane's lightning flickered across the keen edge of the blade, but didn't touch the blood it was coated in. Taryn twisted it harshly enough that Calixto fell to his knees, mouth agape and overflowing with blood, and then she planted a foot on his chest and yanked it out of him.

Calixto fell backwards onto the street and bled out the last of his life, and when the Butcher had finally breathed his last, Taryn wiped her blade clean with his coat and smirked at Milos.

"Evening. Decided to start the party without me?"

Milos had to really hold himself back so he wouldn't strangle her right then and there.