Chapter 17: In My Time of Need

"Forget women," I grumbled as I pushed through yet another grime-coated underground tunnel. "I've decided that I don't understand anyone."

"Shush," Nazir cautioned, lowering his lantern so that its hooded glare was shielded from view. "I've already apologized for sidetracking us. What more do you want?"

"That apology in writing," I hissed. "And possibly performed as an interpretive dance in front of the Dark Brotherhood. With Cicero providing narration."

I didn't look at him, but I could feel Nazir glaring at my back. I didn't feel bad about it, though. I was just annoyed about the whole thing. If he didn't want me mad at him, he shouldn't have gotten us caught up in this ridiculous situation to begin with.

"It's insane!" I complained once Saadia had shown us back to our room and left. "Hecate wouldn't approve."

"Hecate isn't here," Nazir responded gruffly. "And I doubt she would have approved of you almost getting killed by a giant spider just to find a pet for Babette either."

"Babette told you about that?" I asked, feeling my face redden.

"I also doubt that she would appreciate you sleeping with Eiruki," he continued, ignoring my question.

"I'm not sleeping with Eiruki!" I protested. "She crawled into bed with me while she was drunk! Once! And nothing happened!"

"That's a shame," he said, looking at me with a frown. "I was lying about Hecate being upset about that, you know. I doubt she'd care if you took a tumble with a pretty girl closer to your own age and-"

"Why are we talking about this?" I interrupted. "We're supposed to be talking about how you're going to blow our mission so that you can help some woman you haven't seen in thirty years." I stomped over to the bed and kicked the frame in a fit of pique. I wheeled around to face him again, my voice raising in anger. "As far as I can tell, the last time you went out of your way to help her it didn't work out so well for you!"

Nazir was on me in a flash, his rough hands grabbing my shirt and pulling me up so that we were face-to-face. He was livid with fury, and I could tell that I had gone too far. I thought about reminding him of the Tenets, but I was a bit worried that might be too much like what Cicero would do—and reminding Nazir of Cicero while he was already mad was the last thing in the world I wanted. After a long moment, he finally got himself under control and let go.

"I'm sorry," he said grudgingly.

"Me too, Nazir," I returned. I wasn't really sorry, but I thought it was better to be diplomatic. "I shouldn't have said that. I guess we're both a little stressed out."

He nodded and sat down heavily in the room's lone chair. For the first time since I had known him, Nazir looked old and tired. He seemed to have aged five years in the couple of hours since we had run into Saadia. I sat down on the edge of the bed and did my best to keep my voice calm and level.

"Just help me understand here," I pleaded. "Are you still in love with her after all this time?"

"No," he insisted, shaking his head, "nothing like that. It's hard to explain." He reached up toward his hood and stopped short again. It was an unusual gesture; I had seen Nazir without his hood before, so I didn't understand why he would be reluctant to take it off in front of me. "I just…"

"You don't have to explain," I said, trying to spare Nazir from his obvious discomfort. "I just need to know that this isn't going to compromise our mission. We came here for a purpose, and we need to finish it before we worry about anything else."

"Agreed," Nazir finally conceded. "I had planned on taking a couple of days to speak to my people in the city, but I can do it more quickly than that. Then you can go back to Sanctuary and let Hecate know I'm taking some personal time to deal with…" He gestured vaguely. "…things."

"To the Void with that," I said sourly. "I'm going with you."

"Like hell!" Nazir started, but I cut him off abruptly.

"You're not thinking clearly, Nazir!" I half-shouted. "Saadia might be a woman in trouble who needs help, or she might be using you. We just don't know. You need someone along who isn't personally involved." I realized that I was standing with my fists balled up, so I forced myself to take a deep breath, sit down, and relax. "I'm just worried for you, Nazir. I've never seen you like this before, and I'm scared that if I let you go off alone, you'll get killed."

"I can take care of myself," he said, though not unkindly. "I've been doing that for a long time before you came along, Aventus Aretino."

"Maybe," I acknowledged, "but you're part of a family. That means you don't have to do it alone." I reached out and laid a hand over his. "I'm part of your family too, Nazir. I'm here and I want to help—even if I don't agree with you."

Nazir looked decidedly uncomfortable, finally patting my hand with his before standing up and walking to the window. I gave him a moment to compose himself before continuing.

"Take a step back from the personal part of this," I said. "Treat it like any other mission. What's the first thing we need to do?"

"Figure out who to kill," Nazir said. "Every problem can be solved with strategic murder."

"Okay, fair enough," I replied. "How do we do that?"

"The Alik'r never travel alone," he mused. "Where you see one, there are two. Where you see two, there are four." He began to pace back and forth, thinking aloud as he walked. "If they've been making this much of a nuisance of themselves, then they know that Saadia is somewhere in Skyrim—and they've probably narrowed her down to Whiterun if they're keeping a presence in Rorikstead. Tomorrow, while I'm talking to our contacts, I'd like you to go see your Stormcloak friend-"

"He's really more like an acquaintance," I groused.

"Well, tomorrow he's your friend," Nazir insisted. "You're so homesick that you asked your master for the day off to hang out with an old friend." I nodded, frowning; I knew what Nazir was getting at. "While you're hanging out with your old friend, ask him about the Alik'r and see if he has any more information. If we're lucky, we'll find out more about where they're located and how many they are. Worse come to worst, we'll hunt them down in Rorikstead and interrogate them."

"What if they've moved on?" I asked.

"They haven't," he said with grim certainty. "Alik'r never welch on a contract. The only way to get them off Saadia's trail is to kill the band that came here after her. That will give Saadia enough time to relocate. Hopefully, it will discourage any other bands from taking money to come after her. The Alik'r are tenacious, but they're also practical."

"Sounds like a plan," I said with mock cheer. "To show that you're sincere about that apology, you can have the floor tonight."

The next day, Nazir was already up and gone by the time I rolled out of bed. When I dressed and went downstairs for breakfast, I was happy to see Saadia working in the common room, serving breakfast to patrons and cleaning tables. Part of me had been worried that I would wake up to find Nazir having run off with her, and that wasn't an explanation I would have looked forward to giving Hecate. I gave the Redguard woman a cautious nod as I made my way out into Whiterun.

The city was cold and the streets were muddy from a light rain the previous night. I wound up waiting for almost ten minutes in the chilly morning air for a Stormcloak patrol to move on from the main gates before approaching to ask after Lasskar. Invisibility is an assassin's greatest weapon; Lasskar knew me already, but I didn't want to draw the attention of more Stormcloaks than I had to. Being an Imperial by itself could make some "true sons and daughters of Skyrim" hostile toward me. Asking pointed questions about recent troubles could make them worse than hostile, though—it could make them suspicious.

Fortunately, once the patrol had moved off, it was easy enough to find Lasskar on gate guard duty again. It seemed like the sort of thing that the laconic Nord would be suited for. Lasskar had always been the more peaceable brother. It really didn't surprise me that Vigurl had been sent on to active campaigning while Lasskar was put on something passive like guarding an ostensibly conquered city.

"Hey, Lasskar," I said as I approached the gangly teen. He had his helmet off and was rubbing at a faint bruise on his cheek. "Man, what happened to you?"

"Those damned Redguards came back," he said angrily. "One of them tried to sneak into the city last night just as I was coming on duty." He opened his mouth in a jaw-cracking yawn and shook his head to clear it. If he was pulling double shifts, the Stormcloaks must be as undermanned as all of Nazir's military reports had been suggesting.

"You're not too hurt, I hope," I replied. I found that I actually meant it too. Seeing him take a bruise was much less satisfying than I had thought it would be.

"Nah," he shrugged. "Took four of us to drag the guy down, though. He was cursing and screaming the whole time."

"Did you kill him?" I asked in what I hoped was a casual voice. I always worried that I sounded too eager when I asked things like that. Killing people was my business, after all.

"We're under orders to take prisoners whenever possible," he said in what sounded like a practiced tone. He was probably just parroting his orders back at me. "Since we didn't have orders otherwise, we knocked him out and locked him up in Dragonsreach. I don't guess anyone will pay his fine, so he's probably going to be up there until we can figure something else out." Lasskar laughed cheerfully. "I kind of hope that he stays up there until we finish taking the Reach so we can throw his ass in Cidhna Mine. That would teach him a lesson."

I laughed along with Lasskar even though I didn't really feel it. I had always thought that prison was a barbaric way to deal with criminals. Either fine them and let them go, or just kill them and be done with it. Prison was like slavery—and I didn't like slavers.

"So, did you need something?" Lasskar asked when we finished chuckling over the Alik'r warrior's likely fate.

"Well, I was going to ask you to lunch so we could catch up on what's been happening back home since I left…" Right on cue, Lasskar yawned again. "But I think you'd be better off catching some sleep instead of listening to me yammer about how much I miss Windhelm."

"Sorry, Aventus," he said with what sounded like genuine regret. "I don't get a day of leave for another week or two yet, and even that might get revoked depending on how things go in the Reach."

"No, it's okay," I said quickly, patting him on the back. "We'll catch up the next time I'm in Whiterun. I don't know how long I'm staying this time, but it's definitely not a couple of weeks. When all of this is over, I'll buy you a mead."

"I'll take it as a promise," he smiled, and waved as I walked back into town.

That had gone easier than I could have hoped. Truthfully, I was glad that I hadn't had to spend an hour or two trading insipid conversation with someone I used to know as a child. I could think of very few things more boring and awkward—and I was pretty awkward with people to begin with. While I might not hold any lasting grudge against Lasskar, I simply didn't have anything in common with him anymore—with anyone from Windhelm, really.

I wasn't a sad, lonely child anymore. I was an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. I had a family and a purpose. I didn't need the approval of a gap-toothed private in a rebel army to feel good about myself. Still, I had trouble getting Lasskar's eager face out of my mind as I made my way through the Plains District. He seemed like he was genuinely looking forward to spending some time with me. I could only think that a year in the army had made him homesick, and I was a little piece of Windhelm in his mind.

I guess that time has a way of making even the bad memories seem good.

In the meantime, I had more important things to do. Getting in to see a prisoner at Dragonsreach would be tricky. I couldn't risk infiltration because I didn't know the layout at all; even being undermanned, the Stormcloaks wouldn't leave the place unguarded. Killing my way to the prisoner wasn't really an option either. It was even riskier than infiltration, and way louder. I didn't have enough money for a bribe…

But I knew someone who did.

The interior of the house was dusty and cobwebbed. The walls were covered in shelves and weapon racks, all crammed with bric-a-brac and souvenirs from all over Skyrim. There was a troll skull on a table, a jeweled and ceremonial-looking axe hanging above the door, and what looked like a barrel stuffed full of arrows next to the door. A few withered bundles of garlic hung from the ceiling over a cold fire pit with a rusty kettle hanging from a spit.

From the general dirt and disarray it was clear that no one had been inside for months, maybe longer. I would have to give Hecate even more disappointing news when I got back to Sanctuary, I supposed. Before I left Dawnstar, Hecate had given me the key to Breezehome, her old house in Whiterun, making it clear that we were only to use it in case of an emergency. I figured that needing bribe money to get to a prisoner so I could interrogate him about Nazir's old girlfriend didn't really qualify, but he could be the one to explain it all to her later.

When I had remembered the key, I had to wait almost an hour before making my way into the house. I didn't want anyone seeing me going into the Dragonborn's old house, which meant waiting until the streets were clear. Hecate had warned me that her old housecarl, a Nord named Lydia, might still be living there, which was why the place was off-limits except for an emergency. I had intended to dart in, grab a few coins out of Hecate's emergency stash, and dash back out, but the place was too interesting to just leave.

Once the door was closed behind me, I couldn't help but stare around in wonder for long minutes. Even dirty and dusty, the place was chock full of strange trinkets, obviously enchanted weapons, and dozens of books on every subject imaginable. I wandered slowly through the main room, pausing to look at each object in turn and wondering what amazing stories might lie behind each. It was only with great effort that I was able to tear myself away from the array of items and focus on my business.

It reminded me that it was with Hecate that I most felt the sting of the general prohibition against asking members of the Brotherhood about their lives before joining. While Babette kept secrets from me about the present, I had never begrudged anyone else their secrets about the past. I hadn't cared much for my life before the Brotherhood either, so I imagined that most of the others were much the same.

But Hecate was the Dragonborn! She had saved the world from Alduin, the World-Eater! She had never made a secret of at least that much, but she was as unwilling to talk about it as anyone else was about their own pasts. I had been learning songs and stories for much of the last few months. They fascinated me—the way that history lived on through legend and music—and Hecate was a living legend, a member of my own family no less. She had only told me about having had a friend named Lydia because she thought I needed to be ready in case the woman was still living in Breezehome.

A quick inspection of the place revealed that wasn't the case, though. Even if the general clutter hadn't let me know about the place's disuse, a quick sweep through the small house made sure of it. From Hecate's wistful remembrance, I had half-expected to find a Nord woman sitting in an upstairs chair, stock-still and covered with dust herself, but the house looked like no one had been inside in a long time.

Following Hecate's directions to find her hidden stash, I pulled up one of the floorboards near the bed and reached down into the hole, ready to get bitten by a skeever. Honestly, I didn't know why she would bother hiding a few septims when there were so many valuable things just sitting out in the house already. My fingers finally brushed against the wooden side of a chest. It was flat enough to fit under the floorboards, but when I tried to pull it closer it barely budged. I finally had to pull up a few more loose floorboards just to get at the thing.

When I finally uncovered it, I whistled a low note of envy and surprise. In addition to the chest I had touched, there were nearly a half-dozen sacks, saddlebags, and backpacks stuffed into the hollow under the floor. All of it was full to bursting with coins, gems, and jewelry; even the chest wouldn't quite close all the way. It was easily a king's ransom, all sitting in an unused house in a Stormcloak-occupied city. And it was only one of the caches of valuables she had socked away while adventuring as the Dragonborn.

I wondered briefly how true the "soul of a dragon" part of the Dovahkiin legend was. It would certainly explain the hoarding and the temper tantrums.

Shrugging it off, I grabbed what I needed out of the pile, put everything back into place, and made my way back downstairs. As I was heading to the door, a glint of metal caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turned toward one of the shelved, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. It took another minute or so of staring before I was sure of what I was looking at.

In the middle of one of the shelves, sitting on a display in a position of honor, was my family's silver dinner plate. I had given it to Hecate over two years ago as payment for killing Grelod the Kind. It was the only thing of value my family had owned, other than a large mirror my mother had owned and which I had left in Windhelm when I joined the Dark Brotherhood. Hecate must have kept it all this time, instead of selling it for coin as I had assumed she would when I gave it to her.

As I stared at the plate—which I now realized was worth much less than a contract—I could feel warm tears slowly trickling down my cheeks. I hadn't expected the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, the Dragonborn of legend, to be so sentimental that she would hold onto a cheap dinner plate given to her by a lonely, starving orphan. Looking at it reminded me sharply of my mother's death, of my lonely year in Windhelm, of the pain I suffered in Honorhall Orphanage—and at the same time, it didn't feel all that bad.

I could only guess that time could make even bad memories seem good. Even for an assassin.

By the time I had composed myself enough to leave Breezehome and made it up to Dragonsreach, it was mid-afternoon. A few coins placed in the right guard's hand had gotten me in to see the Alik'r prisoner, with the claim that I was trying to determine if he was someone my master knew. My master didn't want to be directly associated with a criminal, of course, but were it to be a relation, he would have an obligation... and so on.

It wasn't a bluff that would have stood up to any sort of close scrutiny—I mean, what were the odds that a random Redguard merchant would know a random Redguard criminal—but the general Stormcloak racism had made it an easy lie to sell. Money never hurt for these sort of transactions either.

The sub-level of Dragonsreach housed a small prison with several small, sparse cells to hold drunks and ruffians for short term stays. It had none of the amenities one would expect in a long-term prison, like a courtyard for prisoners to mingle or exercise in, or some sort of hard labor to keep them occupied and exhausted. It also lacked a torture room; Nords generally didn't believe in torturing prisoners for information.

The guard pointed me to the correct cell—which was probably unnecessary since it was the only one with anyone in it—and then retreated to the corner of the room. I would be able to have a private talk with the prisoner, but I wouldn't be able to threaten him without drawing the guard's notice. I would have to soft play this one.

The prisoner himself was a clean-shaven, dark-skinned Redguard wearing the blue head wrap of the Alik'r. He didn't have the distinctive Redguard scimitar, of course, and his face was puffy from the beating he had taken at the hands of the Stormcloaks.

"Excuse me," I said, staying well of his reach should he decide to charge the bars, "but I hear that you've been looking for a Redguard woman." He looked up at me but his face remained unexpressive, like a carved wooden statue. "Her name is Iman."

He stood up and walked to the bars, looking around furtively. Now I had his attention.

"I will say that I was looking for such a woman," he said in a low voice, his eyes on the guard, "but no longer. I was captured, and that makes my life forfeit." He cast his gaze down shamefully. "My life with the Alik'r is over, but I have no wish to die in this gods-forsaken land. If I can be freed from this prison, I may start over. See to that and I'll tell you what you need to know."

"Not good enough," I replied. "Tell me where I can deliver my information and I'll have you set free. I need to know for certain there's a profit in it for me before I lay out any money for your release."

"There will be profit aplenty," he insisted, nodding to emphasize his point. "The woman betrayed our people to the Aldmeri Dominion in the Great War. She sold her family's secrets to the elves and cost the city of Taneth its freedom." He spat on the floor of his cell angrily. "Oh yes, that harlot's head will be worth a fortune."

I paused, a little stunned by his accusations. Could it be true? Saadia betraying the city's defenses could explain why she had gone on the run, and why her Imperial allies had turned cold on her if that information had come to light. On the other hand, if she had sold her people to the elves, why hadn't she just stayed behind and worked with them during the occupation? I decided that ultimately it didn't matter. I didn't have enough information, and Nazir clearly wanted to help her against all logic anyway.

"Well," I coughed, "I need to know who I'm going to be dealing with. Who's your leader?" This was an important question.

"A man called Kematu," he responded without hesitation. He paused, clearly thinking about how much to offer before being offered a reward. "Our band was lairing at an old cavern east of Rorikstead. The locals call it Swindler's Den." He held out a hand to me through the bars. "Now you will set me free?"

"I'll talk to the guards," I replied. "It might take me a day or two."

As I walked back to the guard, I tried my best to not let my worry show through and to make my steps slow and even. He hadn't shown any hesitation over calling Kematu his leader, which meant that he didn't think of himself as an exile. He'd had none of the bitterness of an abandoned warrior. Nazir had described the Alik'r as practical, even ruthless, but they had a code. It all led me to only one possible conclusion.

The man in the cage had gotten caught on purpose. He was no exile—he was a distraction for an Alik'r the guards had never even seen.

"Where you see one," Nazir had said, "there are two."

An Alik'r warrior was on the loose in Whiterun. He knew where Saadia was. And if I didn't get to her before he did, he was going to kill her.

I started running as soon as I got out the door. Part of me was worried that I would get stopped by a Stormcloak for being suspicious, but more of me was afraid that it was already too late. I had used up the whole morning and most of the afternoon gathering information. The Alik'r had already proven that they were ruthless and resourceful. I had no doubt that if one of them got within striking range of Saadia, he would take his shot whether it would get him caught or not.

If Saadia weren't already dead, she would be soon.

I raced through the courtyards around Dragonsreach for the great stairs that led down to the Wind District. I took the stairs two and three at a time, once drawing an angry shout from a well-dressed man I almost ran into. My legs and lungs were burning as I reached the central market plaza but I pushed myself harder and faster.

Crossing the central plaza of the district, I couldn't help but feel sorrow for the Gildergreen, the mighty tree that was sacred to worshipers of Kynareth, the goddess of nature. Hecate had told me of its beautiful leaves, how they sparkled in the sunlight like jewels, but now the tree was barren and leafless—another casualty of the Stormcloak Rebellion. The tree had been hit by a ball of flaming pitch flung by a careless catapult, and the scars of its burning still covered it. I had no time to muse over the dying tree, any more than I had time to appreciate Jorrvaskr, the mead hall of the Companions, which surmounted a small rise to my left.

Racing through the upper reaches of the Plains District, I nearly bowled over an elderly matron milling about near an outdoor vendor, leapt over a wheelbarrow that was being pushed by a whey-faced Nord, and ducked between a pair of carts delivering goods. I slipped in the muddy streets, keeping my balance only from a solid year and a half of training with the Dark Brotherhood.

Rather than taking the stairs or a path up to the Bannered Mare, I leapt over the retaining wall and scurried up the damp grass. By the time I reached the door, I was muddy up to my knees, sweating and shaking from exertion, and gasping for breath. I stumbled into the common room, drawing glances from the few patrons. I grabbed one of the barmaids and gasped out something incomprehensible.

"I'm sorry," she said in confusion, looking down at where I was holding her arm with distaste.

"Saadia," I managed to croak between shuddering breaths. "Where's Saadia?"

"Hmmph," the barmaid snorted, finally shrugging my arm off. "Lazy wench went out back an hour ago to feed the chickens. Probably sitting on her fat-"

But I was already gone.

I dashed through the Mare to get to the rear door, bowling over a Nord bard wailing about the "great honor" of Ulfric Stormcloak. I would have felt worse, but I couldn't stand that song.

Once outside, I looked around quickly and was relieved to see Saadia standing by the chicken coops, spreading handfuls of feed to the angry birds. I took a moment to wave to her, then hunkered down with my hands on my knees to let my dizziness pass. Maybe I had been worried for nothing.

The Alik'r warrior sprang out of the bushes at the edge of the Bannered Mare's property with barely a whisper of sound. His scimitar was already in hand, and Saadia was looking at me, lifting her hand in a friendly return wave. She would never get out of the way in time. I took to my feet and started running toward her, but I would never reach her before the Alik'r did.

"Get down!" I screamed, hoping that Saadia would obey without taking the time to look behind her.

Saadia froze for just a split-second, but it was almost too long. Then she dropped to the ground like a poleaxed cow, sprawling straight down into a heap. The Alik'r warrior's scimitar cut through the space above her head, whistling in the cold spring air. I put one arm behind me and drew my emergency dagger, spinning it around so that it was point-first ahead of me. I was a living spear, shooting through the air to my target as I leapt over Saadia.

The knife found the warrior's throat, pinning him through larynx and spine, coating my forearm with his blood. He wasn't even able to make a sound as he died.

When he hit the ground next to Saadia, her eyes widened and she would have screamed if I hadn't let go of the knife and clapped a hand over her mouth. I doubt that the blood on my hand helped her calm down, but I held her silent until it felt like she stopped and then slowly let her go. Her face was smeared with blood where I had kept her quiet.

"Divines," she whispered, shaking like a leaf. "You killed him."

"He was going to kill you," I said simply. "Would you prefer I had let him?"

She shook her head frantically. Sometimes it's just a matter of reframing the argument.

"Okay then," I said as I glanced around. Neither my shout nor the brief struggle afterward had drawn any attention. "Now help me hide the corpse."

Saadia spent the rest of the day in her room after telling Hulda, the owner of the inn, that she was feeling sick. I could only guess. Nazir went up to check on her when he got back and I told him what had happened. I kept myself busy in the common room while they talked. I had to admit that I was a little shaky myself—not so much from killing a man as from almost letting Saadia get killed.

Even more than that, I had never saved a life before—only taken them. I was more used to being a dark avenger than a savior. I liked the feeling… but at the same time, I knew it wasn't a good fit. Killing was what I was good at, not saving. This time had been a happy convergence of those two things, but I didn't look to it happening again in the future.

Nazir and Saadia's conversation took a fair bit longer than I had thought it would, so by the time they came back downstairs all but the most dedicated drunks had wandered home for the night. Nazir looked tired and disheveled; knowing that Saadia had almost died must have hit him harder than he thought it would.

"Good work," he said as he sat down at the table. "I owe you one."

"We're family," I replied, taking a slow pull off my mead before continuing. "The band is holed up in someplace called Swindler's Den."

"I know where it is," Nazir nodded. I didn't even ask how; Nazir had probably forgotten more about Skyrim's bolt-holes and thieves' dens than I would ever know. "We should get some rest and leave out first thing in the morning. Saadia's not safe until we take care of this."

"Do we have a plan?" I asked.

"The plan is the same plan as always," he replied. "We find them, and we kill them all."

Finding Swindler's Den had been easy. Delving into its black and fetid depths had been harder—for my sense of cleanliness if not anything else. The place was full of skeevers, spiders, and dripping fungus. Nazir liked the place as little as I did, but I complained more often; Saadia wasn't my ex-girlfriend, after all.

Nazir had eliminated a single sentry when we first entered the caves, but otherwise we hadn't encountered any resistance. The Alik'r were apparently relying on secrecy to keep themselves secure rather than force. That indicated that they were few in number, probably less than ten. Considering that one of them was in prison, one was dead, and two were in Rorikstead, that left perhaps six to deal with. It wasn't impossible odds—Garnag and I had taken on more than that on my first contract—but it was difficult without magic or ranged support fire.

We finally entered a series of caves that were flooded up to my waist, but up ahead we could make out the glimmer of torchlight. Nazir extinguished his lantern and stowed it away, then surprised me by sheathing his sword.

"Stay back here," he cautioned. "I'm going to try to reason with them. If that fails we'll fight, but I owe them at least that much after all these years." I nodded; I didn't really understand it, but it seemed important to him.

We paced forward until we reached the cave entrance, over which flowed a thin waterfall. I pressed myself up against the stone wall and drew my mace before pushing my cowl up over my face. Nazir walked through the waterfall with his hands up. I crept forward to be close enough to see what was going on once he was far enough out to draw the attention of the Alik'r.

"I demand audience with the leader of this band!" Nazir boomed, his hands in the air, palms out. "I am Nazir, who was once of the people of the sands! I come to speak with Kematu!"

Half a dozen Alik'r warriors looked toward the waterfall in surprise, clearly not expecting anyone to penetrate this deep into their lair. They drew their blades and looked toward something above the waterfall. I cursed under my breath; if there was a ledge up above, then I wouldn't be able to see Kematu or what he was doing. If this turned ugly, I might react too late to help Nazir. I would have to risk that Nazir would hold their attention while I snuck into the room.

"Let him speak," came a calm, controlled voice from above. "I would hear the words of this outcast."

Nazir trudged through the water, coming out on a rocky shore nearby. The Alik'r approached him and flanked him as he walked up the ledge toward the upper area. I pushed myself into the water as deeply as possible and waded into the chamber. I looked around and found no one even looking my way. Nazir's distraction was doing its job.

Now that I was free of the waterfall, I could see Kematu himself. He was a tall, powerfully built Redguard perhaps a few years older than Nazir, the sides of his head shaven clean to create a central mane of tight dreadlocks. He wore no robes or hood, instead dressing in the clothes of a common merchant.

"It's rare for Alik'r to act as assassins," Nazir said as he walked toward the leader of the band.

"Assassins?" asked Kematu. "No, nothing so crass." I saw Nazir stiffen up, and I felt my own pride wounded by the off-handed statement. "You clearly know that we're here for the woman who now calls herself 'Saadia.' She's a criminal, wanted by-"

"I don't care why you want her," Nazir interrupted. "How much to make you give up the contract?"

"I see that years away from your people have made you forget about honor, Nazir," Kematu said dryly. "Our band will not give up the pursuit of the woman. This is a matter of pride for us."

"I had hoped you would see reason," Nazir said sadly, pacing forward until he was an arm's length from Kematu. His hands were still up, but something in the way he changed his stance made Kematu's eyes narrow. The older man dropped his hands to the hilts of his twin swords.

Nazir was faster.

I had never seen Nazir fight before, not against a real opponent. He was faster than I could have imagined. He went from a defenseless posture to a quick-draw stance in the time it took me to blink, cross-drawing his scimitar and bringing it up into a sweeping blow in one smooth motion. By the time I had started to step forward to help Nazir, Kematu's head was already free of his shoulders.

Nazir pivoted on one heel, continuing the stroke that beheaded Kematu into the necks of the two closest Alik'r. They weren't beheaded, but the wound dealt to each was fatal. He had killed three men in the space of two of my steps.

Two more Alik'r charged Nazir with bare steel, while a third fell back and pulled a hunting bow from a rack on the wall. He was reaching for an arrow when my mace crushed his forearm. He screamed a high note of agony before my reverse stroke smashed in his temple. I turned toward Nazir, but was forced to turn back when an arrow whizzed past my face. I ducked behind a barrel for cover as the last of the Alik'r drew another arrow and sent it my way. I hated fighting archers.

Nazir was fighting two men at once, holding them both off with a weaving pattern of steel. They looked slow and clumsy compared to Nazir, but fighting two at once isn't easy for even the best swordsman. He used their lack of cooperation against them, his footwork keeping them bumping into each other as he parried and dodged.

Another arrow thunked into the barrel I was hiding behind and an idea came to me. I waited for the next thud, then grabbed the barrel by the bottom and hurled it into the air as hard as I could. As expected, the archer's reflexes worked in my favor as he tracked the barrel and shot at it while I charged him, low to the ground. By the time he had nocked another arrow, my mace had crushed his shin. Once he was on the ground, wailing in pain, it was easy to finish him off.

I looked over to Nazir only to see that his battle was already over. One of his attackers lay on the ground dead, while he was pulling his scimitar out of the other's stomach, kicking him off the ledge into the pool below for good measure. He had a few superficial scratches but otherwise looked untouched. Maybe he hadn't needed my help at all.

"Those archers would have given me problems," he said as if reading my mind. "Thanks, Aventus."

"No problem," I said. I looked around the cave full of dead men. "You think this makes Saadia safe?"

"No," Nazir said, shaking his head. "But whatever money these lot had will let her make a new start of it somewhere else. No one else will come looking for a while, so she'll probably get away."

"But she won't be in Skyrim anymore," I said as sympathetically as I could manage. He nodded and I patted him on the shoulder.

"Better for both of us," he concluded, stooping to clean off his scimitar on one of the dead men's robes. As he sheathed his sword, he looked at me with a quirked eyebrow. "I suppose that you still don't understand women any better."

"Even less now," I admitted. "I also don't know why you would spend so long comforting a woman who hurt you."

"Comforting?" Nazir asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Aventus… how much do you know about… well, about men and women?" I looked at him expectantly. "Men and women, together?" It finally clicked into place for me.

"Not much really," I admitted, blushing. "I mean, I've picked up a few things by listening to Meena talk…"

"Ugh," Nazir said, walking toward an adjoining chamber to begin rooting through the band's possessions. "She's the last person you want to be hearing from about what's normal for relationships."

"Will you tell me then?" I asked.

"Me?" he said, freezing like a skeever caught rooting through a cupboard. "By Sithis, no!"

"It would be a shame if Hecate found out that you almost blew off a mission to help an ex-girlfriend," I said innocently.

"You wouldn't!" he exclaimed.

"Wouldn't what?" I said with a smirk. "Let the Dark Brotherhood—a band of the most vicious cutthroats and killers in the whole world—find out that their Speaker has a soft spot for a woman in trouble?" I gave him my best vicious smile. "Damn right I would."

"Maybe we trained you too well," he said with a frown. "Fine then, you little sneak." He paused a moment before beginning. "When a man and a woman love each other very much…"

"I know this part," I groused. "Skip to the good stuff."

"I'll tell it in my own way!" he shouted.

It wasn't the way I would have wanted to learn about the facts of life, but I supposed it would have to do.

…to be continued…