Chapter 5: The Art of the Possible

I stalked through the unfamiliar terrain, moving like a shadow between the many dangers that stood between me and my prey. I could catch glimpses of it through the moving obstacles, just enough to whet my appetite for the final movements of our chase. I tensed as I began to approach, careful of my footwork. I got close enough to touch, began to reach out…

"Aventus," came Dagny's disapproving voice, "why are you going back to the buffet table again?"

I sighed, dropping my hand before I could grab another of the small shrimp puffs that only seemed to abate my hunger for moments before it came back, as strong as before.

"I'm hungry," I complained.

"It's rude to hover near the appetizers. You're probably used to going hungry, what with growing up poor," she said. I gawped at her until she reached out and pushed up my lower jaw with an outstretched finger. I simply couldn't believe that she had said something like that, considering that she went into withdrawal if she tried to go a day without a sweetroll. "Don't look at me like that," she chided. "Consider it a compliment. You've got an advantage over all of these overfed diplomats."

"And overfed spoiled princesses," I muttered.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Dagny sniffed. She reached down and smoothed the front of her dress, an Imperial-style creation in ruffled blue. "If you really want to learn to represent your mother in the court, you have to be mindful of the habits and manners of the people here."

I looked around at the gathering in the great hall of the Blue Palace. I still felt like a deer in a gathering of wolves, a sensation I wasn't used to feeling. I was normally the wolf in sheep's clothing, the shadow in the night. In this place, I was out of my depth. Honestly, I was grateful for Dagny taking an interest in my well-being, especially considering that I was lying to her. I didn't give two damns about courtly life or the lives of the high-born. I was just trying to be in a position to find out more about a man named Erikur, apparently a thane of Solitude.

"My mother doesn't care about courtly manners," I argued as Dagny took my arm and led me away from the buffet. I gave it a longing look as we departed.

"Your mother is the Dragonborn," she whispered. "She can afford to not care about anyone's opinion. You'll get no such allowances for being her son—and an adopted one, at that. Even if you weren't so insistent about not being public about it." We had managed to agree to not spread around my "parentage" to more people that already knew it. As far as anyone who wasn't already in the know would care, I was just a student at the Bards College that Dagny had chosen as her escort for this party. "Honestly, you'd have an easier time of it if you just came out and said who you were. Not much of one, but…"

"If I told everyone who I really was," I said, "I would suddenly have a bunch of enemies whose faces and names I didn't know." I shook my head. "No, it's better if I'm just Aventus Aretino of the Bards College for now. Maybe when the civil war dies down a little…"

"You really think the civil war is going to die down?" she asked, a cynical note in her voice.

Given how wealthy and important they still were, I sometimes managed to forget that Dagny's family had lost their home and position to Ulfric Stormcloak. They were guests of Jarl Elisif, along with several other banished jarls. Dagny's father, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, held a position of respect and authority among them due to his unflagging loyalty to the Empire, but it was still a position of first among exiles.

"Of course," I said with real confidence. "Now that Diana has rejoined the war effort and Ulfric's Dragonborn has been outed as a fake, it's only a matter of time until his own people start turning against him."

"I think you put too much faith in people's willingness to reject a pleasant lie," she returned. Dagny paused, cocking her head to one side. All at once, her cynical attitude faded away and she was just a fourteen-year-old girl again, holding onto my arm with a delighted smile. "I love this song!" she declared. "Dance with me!"

"Um," I started as she dragged me toward the dance floor. We were already among the couples gathered in their finery before I managed to choke out, "Dagny, I don't know how to dance."

"Oh, pooh," she pouted. "You don't know anything useful, do you?"

"I wouldn't say that," I muttered, thinking of the dozen ways I knew how to kill a man bare-handed. I looked down at her; she had her cheeks puffed out in disappointment, a sight that couldn't help but make me laugh. "I'm willing to learn if you'll teach me," I finally allowed.

"Let's see how fast you learn," Dagny replied, her mercurial face twisting into a cunning smile. I gulped, wondering for not the first time what I had gotten myself into with this girl.

"You certainly dragged the cat in this time, dearie," complained the freakishly tall, gold-skinned woman looming over me. She wasn't talking to me, though; she was talking to Dagny while she looked at me like a piece of garbage stuck to someone's shoe. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as she appraised me, and my teeth ground together at her words.

"I think you hit a nerve, sister dear," said the woman behind the counter. Looking her way, I could see that the two Altmer women had enough resemblance that they had to be actual sisters, not just the way I used the word when I talked about Meena or Babette.

"I'm not used to being insulted by shopkeepers," I snarled.

"Oh, it's not an insult, boy," returned the woman standing before me. "One must be honest with one's failings before one can improve." I paused, thinking about it. Nazir had said something very similar to me once. Of course, he had been deciding if I could be trained as a killer, but the sentiment was the same.

"They're like this with everyone," Dagny assured me, patting me on the arm. I didn't yet know what Dagny was going to get out of helping me get in good with the court, but I would do what I had to do. Erikur might not be an actual target, but I had made a promise to myself that I would recover Finn's Lute for the college. If I had to endure being dragged into clothing shops and mocked by elf women—well, I had been through far worse.

"Not everyone, dear girl," the woman was saying to Dagny. "Only the ones who need it."

"Shamefully," added her sister, "that includes nearly everyone in Skyrim."

"Aventus Aretino," Dagny said, "allow me to introduce you to Taarie and Endarie, the brilliant designers behind Radiant Raiment."

"Brilliant, she says!" the one called Taarie preened, clearly pleased by the praise.

"Taarie, Endarie," Dagny continued, "this is Aventus Aretino. He's-"

"Just a friend of Dagny's," I interrupted, shooting her a warning look. She glared back at me in confusion and annoyance. I got the impression that Dagny wasn't used to being interrupted. "She said that if I wanted to make a good impression at court, I needed to come here first."

"Well, the girl may be young," Endarie crooned, "but she has impeccable taste." She looked me up and down again; I had gotten used to being taller than almost everyone I met, but the Altmer woman stood head and shoulders above me. "I think that we can come up with something to improve on your natural good looks, rough as they are."

I blushed at being called good looking. It wasn't a way I thought of myself. I generally preferred to let my deeds carry me instead of anything as superficial as my looks, especially since I had spent the last several years training how to be unseen. Being handsome was a liability for an assassin; it was better to be forgettable. When I looked at Dagny, she had an appraising expression that I didn't understand. It was shrewd and somehow possessive, like she was examining a horse she was thinking about buying.

"Why do I need new clothes anyway?" I complained to her in an effort to make her stop looking at me like that. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Endarie threw her hands up and walked away while Taarie made a noise somewhere between gagging and coughing. Dagny snickered at their reaction, making my red face burn even brighter.

"Look, Aventus," she said while the sisters began picking out swatches of cloth, "court is all about appearances. People are made and broken on the strength of their presentation." She tapped her lower lip with a finger, thinking about it. "If court is like a battle, then your clothes are your armor. They're the first thing people see about you, even before your hair color or even what race you are. You can win friends or make enemies just by choosing the right colors, or the wrong ones."

"Armor, huh?" I asked dumbly.

"It's all about making an impression," Dagny insisted. "And it's about making the impression you want to make."

I thought about the times I had worn my Dark Brotherhood leathers into battle, using them as a tool to terrify my prey before killing them. It was true that colors could win friends and influence people; in the last two years, I had grown to hate Stormcloak blue. I supposed that Dagny might have a point about clothes making the man.

"So once I get new clothes," I continued, "then we can go to the Blue Palace?"

Dagny laughed, a high and almost mocking note. She held a hand in front of her mouth as she laughed, like she was trying to hide her teeth. I frowned; I didn't like being laughed at.

"I'm sorry, Aventus," she said when she stopped cackling. "I don't mean to laugh, but new clothes will hardly get you ready for court. Your diction is still all wrong, for another thing."

"My what now?" I asked.

"Your diction," she repeated. "The way you talk. Don't they teach you public speaking at the Bards College?"

"That's not until next semester," I said almost automatically.

"Well, we'll need to work on it a bit sooner than that if you're going to be my escort," Dagny said airily.

"Escort?" I echoed, feeling lost. "To what? When?"

"Emperor's Day is coming up at the end of this month," she responded. "I need an escort for the dance they're holding at the Blue Palace. I figure that it's the least you can do for me, considering all the time I'll be taking to get you presentable."

"A whole month?" I asked. "You think it'll take me that long to be ready for court."

"If you're serious about representing your mother," Dagny whispered, clearly understanding that I didn't want the two Altmer women to know about my relationship with Diana, "that's a bare minimum. Most of the people you'll meet in the Blue Palace have been practicing politics their entire adult lives. Some have been part of one court or another since they were children. Letting you put on fancy clothes and teaching you to pronounce the 'g' sound at the end of words is hardly adequate to the task."

"It's just fancy people in fancy clothes," I groused as Taarie came back to start taking my measurements. "It's not like it's dangerous." Taarie barked laughter and Dagny looked at me very seriously.

"With an attitude like that," the chubby girl said darkly, "they'll eat you alive."

The pit of my stomach felt cold and uneasy at her declaration. Still, I had killed men and endured wounds worse than those suffered by many veteran soldiers. How bad could it be?

The next two weeks were worse than anything I could have imagined.

Not only were the clothes I bought from Radiant Raiment more expensive than anything I had ever worn before—barring, perhaps, my Dark Brotherhood armor—they were uncomfortable too. When I complained about it to Dagny, she would only say that a pig would find even silk uncomfortable the first time he wore it. I wound up purchasing half a dozen different outfits from the rude Altmer sisters

My days were consumed with my lessons at the Bards College, but my evenings were spent learning comportment and etiquette from Dagny. Every day after dinner, I would put my mandolin and notebook away in my room, change into one of the formal outfits I had bought, and run off to meet with her at Proudspire Manor. She would stalk around me like Cicero back when he was teaching me the proper stance for knife work, correcting my posture, my tone, even my facial expressions.

"You must really like this girl," Ataf said one night when I got home just as the gates were being locked up for curfew.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I responded.

"You never do," he complained.

"What does that mean?" I said, surprised to find that his words hurt.

"All I'm saying is that you never let anyone in," he said, turning from his desk to face me. "You've been here almost two months, and no one knows anything about you. You have breakfast and lunch with your classmates, but you don't talk to anyone else. You won't even admit that you're hiding anything, even though it's as obvious as the sun in the sky. Half the time, you skip dinner to leave campus. If it's to spend time with your girlfriend, I would understand-"

"She's not my girlfriend," I interrupted automatically.

"That's what I'm talking about!" he said with vehemence. "You spend a bunch of time with a girl you won't talk about. I only know it's a girl because you say 'her' sometimes. I live with you, and I don't know even know your parents' names, what they do, nothing. You're so gods-damned secretive, Aventus. I don't know why you think you have to be, but it's not winning you any friends around here."

"I'm not looking to make friends," I told him sullenly. "I never said that I was."

"Well, you've managed to make some anyway," Ataf grumbled, "totally in spite of yourself." He ran a hand through his short hair in frustration. "People can tell you're special, Aventus." He pointed a finger at me as I started to open my mouth. "And don't say you're not special. It drives me crazy when you say that."

"What do you want me to say, Ataf?" I near-shouted, driven to the edge by his constant prodding and Dagny's cutting commentary. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth, Aventus," he said softly. "Look, I've been trying to stay out of it because you didn't want to talk about it, but you keep getting more and more secretive. You disappear for hours on end, more and more frequently. You're buying fancy clothes and you come back upset. If you're in some kind of trouble, or in with a bad crowd, I want to know. I want to help."

"What are you talking about?" I said, genuinely confused.

"I've known some people who had to go through what you've gone through," he replied. "If your parents have been hurting you, then getting into more trouble isn't the way to deal with it."

"Wait," I said, holding up my hands. "You think that my parents… have been abusing me?"

"Don't treat me like an idiot, Aventus," he snapped. "Where else would you have gotten so many scars? And some of them from when you would have been just a little kid?"

Before I could stop it, the laughter came boiling out of me in a wave. I laid back on my bed and just let it come, cackling at the top of my lungs until tears streamed from my eyes. Ataf stared at me with wide, unbelieving eyes, and the expression on his face just made me laugh harder. I suddenly thought of Babette laughing at me when I thought I had discovered her "little secret," and that only made my gales of laughter worse.

When I was finally done, wiping tears from my eyes, Ataf had stopped gaping at me and was instead sitting with his arms crossed and an irritated look on his face.

"I'm sorry, Ataf," I told him, "I really am." I chuckled again, a last hiccup of humor escaping me. "I don't mean to laugh, but the idea that my family would ever hurt me, for any reason…" I paused; some of them had hurt me during training, and Cicero had beaten me senseless once. "Yeah, some of my scars are from them—but only from training." It almost wasn't a lie. At least, it was close enough that Ataf didn't see through it.

"Training?" he asked. "What kind of training?"

"My mother insisted that I learn how to fight when I was young," I said, only partially lying. "She wanted to make sure I could defend myself even when she wasn't around."

"All of those scars are from practice fights?" Ataf said dubiously.

"No, of course not," I allowed. "Most of them are from people trying to kill me." His jaw dropped open again, and I almost burst back into laughter.

There was something freeing about telling a story this close to the truth, even if it was the one Hecate had made up for me in case I had to tell someone. She had always said that I was such a bad liar that I needed to stick as close to the truth as possible. I was risking a lot by letting Ataf into my confidence, but I couldn't keep him at arm's length forever. If there was anything that I was picking up from Dagny's crash course lessons, it was that friends were too valuable a commodity to throw away without good cause.

"I'm adopted, Ataf," I said, pulling myself up into a sitting position. "When I was little, my real mom got sick and died. I never knew my dad. I got put into an orphanage, and the headmistress…" I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Grelod the Kind. "She wasn't kind at all to us kids."

"Aventus, you don't have to-" Ataf started, but I cut him off.

"You wanted to hear it, so you're going to hear it." I paused, think of what exactly to tell my roommate. "She beat us, starved us, visited all kinds of cruelty on us. No one should have to hear about the details of what she did, let alone live through it. So I'll spare you from that." Ataf looked like he was turning paler, a feat considering how dark-skinned the Redguard boy was.

"I managed to escape that hellhole," I continued, "but not without my share of scars. I managed to find decent people to take me in. They fed me, taught me, took away my nightmares. I got a family." I licked my lips; they had suddenly become dry, and my throat was tight. "My… adopted mother… has a dangerous life. She has enemies, and they would want to hurt her through her family. That's why I never talk about my family, Ataf. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous for who?" he asked.

"For them and for me," I told him. "If anyone knew who my mother was… Well, even the good ones would treat me differently. I don't want that, and she doesn't want to risk me getting hurt again. And I've been hurt by some of the bad ones."

"Who's your mother, Aventus?" Ataf asked in a low voice, whispering as though someone might overhear us.

"Her name is Diana," I said. "But most people know her as Dovahkiin—the Dragonborn."

Ataf stared at me, his eyes wide. Taking him this far into my confidence was a dangerous gambit, but if I could get him on my side with a potentially damaging truth—limited as it might be—then he might prove a valuable ally. Dagny had said that the best way to get someone on your side was a show of empty honesty.

"Okay, but seriously," he finally said. "Who's your mom?"

The Emperor's Day ball was my real trial by fire. It was the first time that Dagny had deigned to be seen in public with me since taking me under her wing. Approaching the Blue Palace in my finest formal wear made me feel like a pretender, like I was wearing a cheap disguise and had "Beware! Poor person!" tattooed on my forehead. Horribly enough, after all of Dagny's instruction and lessons, I felt guiltier about being a street kid from Windhelm than I ever had about being a multiple murderer.

"Remember," Dagny said, tightening her grip on my arm as we walked toward the palace gates, "you're here tonight to let people get used to your face, not to get into any arguments. Be polite, speak when spoken to, and don't talk politics."

"I thought I was supposed to be learning how to talk politics?" I asked.

"Eventually, that will be all you get to talk about," she replied. "But if you start talking about politics before figuring out what the people you'll be talking with believe, you're liable to say something stupid." She paused for a moment. "Stupider than usual, I mean."

"Shouldn't I just say what I think?" She laughed, and I coughed before continuing, "Not about everything, I mean. But shouldn't I say what I really think when it comes to, like, the civil war?"

"Everyone here is against the Stormcloaks, so that's probably a safe topic," she allowed. "But without allies or a patron, you're just an interloper on their game. You don't want to go blundering around in sensitive topics until you're sure whose side you want to be on."

"I thought we were all on the side of the Empire," I complained.

"You're so sweet," Dagny replied drily. "The strength of the Empire has always been its diversity—not just in races and peoples, but in points of view. Ulfric Stormcloak wants one people for one land, with one vision for the future. The Empire lets everyone have their own way, more or less. But with that kind of freedom comes disunity. That's what my father says, anyway."

"So what you're saying is that everyone is on their own side," I said, nodding. "They just have a common enemy."

"I wouldn't call Ulfric Stormcloak 'common,'" she said with a crooked smile. "And some of our allies are still debating about whether or not he's the enemy." She paused again. "Maybe you should avoid talking about the civil war too, come to think of it."

As we walked through the doors of the Blue Palace, I was shocked to see the decorations strung up everywhere. There were paper lanterns, strung ribbon, and enough candles to turn the night into day. The people—more than had been here on my previous visit, by several dozen—were wearing clothes of fine material and cut, silks and brocades in bright colors and patterns. It was so overwhelming that without Dagny's training, I probably would have been staring at everything with my mouth wide open.

Not that I would have admitted anything of the sort to her even under torture.

Almost as soon as we were inside, I was distracted from my wide-eyed appreciation of the gala surroundings by a sudden clap on the back. I could feel someone there before it happened, but I hadn't been expecting someone to touch me. I wheeled on my assailant, only barely keeping my fists from coming up into a fighting position, to see Frothar standing there, a broad smile on his face.

"By the Eight!" he declared to his sister, "I see that you kept your word. Aventus hardly looks like the same person at all."

"That's a good thing?" I asked nervously.

"Yes, it is," Dagny quickly interjected. She pushed up against my side and gripped my arm tighter. Frothar raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything about it. "He looks like a proper gentleman now."

"I don't know about that," Frothar said slyly. He patted me on the back again. "A gentleman needs a sword." Then he paused and leaned close, his smile suddenly feral. "But I hope that he is a gentleman in all other respects. I would hate for him to need that sword. Do we understand one another?" I didn't really, but I wasn't about to disagree with Jarl Balgruuf's oldest son, so I just nodded. He smiled broadly and winked at me. "Excellent. Then I hope the two of you have a good time."

As he sauntered away, Dagny frowned and shook her head. I looked at her, but before I could ask her any questions, people began to trickle in past us, pausing to greet her. I smiled and nodded in all the right places for what felt like forever. I thought about what Frothar had said from time to time as we mingled. Did everyone in Solitude make so little sense?

I had been pulled away from the buffet table for what felt like the tenth time by Dagny's insistent hands when the bells began to toll the midnight hour. I looked up, surprised; had it really gotten so late? It seemed like few people were taking the opportunity to leave, but I could feel fatigue beginning to creep into my bones. This event had been an endurance trial. Between the lack of real food, the constant walking or dancing, and the mental strain of being nice all the time, it felt like some strange torture more than a party.

Certainly, there were fewer people smashed out of their minds drunk than I was used to at a Dark Brotherhood party.

"Has my sister driven you crazy yet?" came a voice to my left, just behind me. I nearly jumped; I could usually sense someone getting so close. I expected to see Frothar when I turned around, but it was a younger man, perhaps my age. It took me a moment to remember his name as Nelkir, Frothar and Dagny's youngest brother. He was wearing an unfashionably dark tunic, black with silver highlights. It set off his hair and eyes, but called attention to how pale he was, a sickly white that seemed unhealthier than my classmate Jorn, who was almost as pale as a snowbank.

"Your sister has been very helpful to me," I said formally, not sure how to react at his sudden arrival. More than that, it kind of creeped me out that he had been able to sneak up on me. Maybe the party and the fatigue were dulling my edge. "Without her, I don't know what I would do." I scanned around a moment; Dagny had been content to wander off from time to time, leaving me to my own devices for long stretches. It was part of her training, to see if I could manage without her.

"That's good," Nelkir said with a thin smile, taking a sip from a goblet of wine. "I was looking forward to getting to know you better, but Dagny's been monopolizing your time. I always like to know my sister's friends."

"She's lucky to have two brothers watching out for her well-being," I replied politely.

"Well, a brother and a half," he chuckled darkly. I tilted my head to indicate that I didn't understand. "I'm Dagny and Frothar's half-brother," he explained. "We're all children of Jarl Balgruuf, but I have a different mother."

"Does that matter?" I asked. All of my own siblings were adopted, so the idea of sharing parents being important was a little foreign to me.

"Only to some people," he said vaguely. He tossed back the rest of his wine and sat the goblet down on a passing servant's tray without looking. "Anyway, it was good to see you again, Aventus Aretino. I look forward to seeing more of you."

"Thank you for your kind words," I was saying even as he walked off. I furrowed my brow as he made his way back into the crowd. I was beginning to wonder if nobles just spoke a different language than the rest of us. I certainly couldn't make heads or tails of half the things they said.

"Was Nelkir bothering you?" Dagny asked as she joined back up with me.

"Bothering me?" I asked. "No, not at all. Why would he bother me?"

"You had a look," she responded. "And Nelkir… Well, he used to be a good boy. But in the last year or two, he's just been a little brat." I looked at her, letting the doubt show on my face. Considering how rude Dagny could be at times, I wasn't sure that she had the right to call anyone a brat. "It's true," she insisted. "He goes out every night, drinking and wasting Father's money. He even dropped out of school. If Father weren't so busy with the war, Nelkir wouldn't be able to act like this."

"Can't Frothar say something?" I asked.

"Please," she sneered. "Frothar's too busy being perfect."

"Why don't you introduce me around some more?" I said, trying to change the subject to something more pleasant. "I could still use the practice." She nodded and smiled tightly, apparently grateful to be doing something other than talking about her family.

We made introductions for a while, saying hello to the better class of people. I would never remember all of their names later, but it was unlikely that they would remember mine either, so I supposed that was fair. As the night wore on, people finally began to trickle out. I despaired of finding my target and dreaded the thought of having to come to another of these functions.

"I'm going to get something to eat," I declared to Dagny. She looked over at the buffet table with something like envy.

"It's been long enough that it won't be rude," she finally relented. "But don't stay long. That boor Erikur is over there."

"Erikur?" I asked, almost shocked. I looked at the buffet table, seeing a portly Nord man shoveling food onto a plate. His fine clothes indicated that he held a good position in the court, but there was something sleazy about him. He picked up food with his fingers then wiped them on the tablecloth; his eyes roamed the backsides of serving girls. I suddenly realized that I had seen this man several times tonight already, but Dagny had never introduced us. "Is he someone important?" I finally asked.

"Unfortunately," Dagny replied. "He's a merchant who was made a thane for his contributions to the stability of the court. His sister isn't too bad, but he's unbearably venal." She shook her head and clucked her tongue. "I've been trying to keep you away from him all night, so don't linger too long."

She had been keeping me away from the one person I was looking for all night? Of course she had.

Dagny sauntered away, and I straightened my tunic as I made my way over to the buffet table. I picked up a canapé and popped it into my mouth, figuring that I would need at least a little strength before beginning my introductions.

"Thane Erikur," I said formally, finally within striking range of my target after so many weeks of struggle and effort, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Actually," said the portly middle-aged Nord, "I'm already somewhat familiar with you, young man." It was an effort to keep the smile on my face

"You have the advantage of me, sir," I replied, Dagny's words falling from my lips. If it were up to me, he wouldn't for very long.

"How could I not know the Dragonborn's son?" he smiled, clapping me on the shoulder. My blood ran cold; how many people knew the truth about me? "No worries, boy," he laughed. "I know the court doesn't want it going outside. My discretion is assured. Besides, if I told anyone, your mother would skin me alive." We laughed together at what he didn't realize wasn't a joke. Hecate really would skin him alive if she found out that he had gone against her.

"You must be very well trusted to know that much," I said, feeling my chances of recovering Finn's Lute diminishing with each passing moment.

"Just between us," he said, leaning in close, "Jarl Elisif couldn't run this city without my help." I groaned inside, keeping my smile plastered in place as hard as I could.

Anyone with those kinds of connections would have amazing security, which meant it would be nearly impossible to get in and out without either being seen or killing someone. I was a master of stealth, but I was trained to kill guards that might see me and hide their bodies. Sneaking into and out of places, leaving everyone alive, was more difficult for me.

"I hear that you're in the Bards College," Erikur said, not really asking a question. I nodded and smiled. "Well, I'm something of a collector of bardic memorabilia."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely interested for the first time that night.

"Oh, yes," he chuckled, apparently happy to brag about his cultured hobbies. "I don't normally let outsiders see my collection, but given that your mother is an old friend, I could make an exception." I paused, thinking about it. Dagny had said that I could use my relationship with Diana—with the Dragonborn—as leverage, but I hadn't really considered it until just now.

"That would be delightful," I smiled. "Should I call upon you at your home?"

"Well, I'll be leaving Solitude soon on business," he demurred. I smiled inwardly. "After New Life Day, I should be free for a tour, though. As a personal favor."

"I thank you for your kindness, my thane," I said formally. His broad, smarmy smile only made me happier to steal from him.

It was easy enough for figure out when Erikur was leaving the city. Now that I knew who to watch out for, following him was simple. The man couldn't go anywhere without a contingent of guards and a pile of portable luxuries. Since it was late autumn in Skyrim, the only practical way he would be leaving Solitude on business would be by ship. My experiences as a dock worker let me disguise myself long enough to figure out which ship he would be leaving on, and then it was just a matter of killing time until his home was empty.

The week couldn't pass fast enough. I went to classes, had lunch with my classmates, kept up appearances by spending time with Dagny, and trained. Nelkir being able to sneak up on me had been an unpleasant surprise, so I redoubled my efforts in my morning routines to try and get back my edge. I was afraid that all the fine food and warm beds had started to make me soft, if a little lordling like Dagny's brother could get the jump on me.

Ataf seemed happier to be around me too. He didn't bring up my secret, but every now and then he would look at me while our classmates were talking and give me a little, knowing nod.

It hadn't been too hard to track down Erikur's home. It was in the same district as Proudspire Manor, so it would be easy to use Proudspire as a base for my infiltration. When the school week ended, I said my goodbyes to Ataf, packed my things and made my way over. My first stop was to bring a treat to Pavot and take him onto the back patio for a game of catch. I made a mental note to take him for a decent run outside the city walls after I was done recovering the lute.

While I was throwing things for Pavot to bring back to me, I heard the approach of slippered feet on stone. I paused in our game and turned to see Dagny walking onto the patio, a heavy fur stole around her shoulders to ward off the cold.

"I don't see how you can survive in this weather in just a tunic and trousers," she grumbled. "Shouldn't you be wearing a coat at least?"

"Playing with Pavot keeps me warm," I laughed. I threw the stick again, then braced myself when the ice wolf brought it back and almost crashed into me in his enthusiasm.

"If I didn't know better," Dagny said, "I would swear that your dog was an ice wolf."

"He might have some ice wolf blood in him," I allowed. "He's kind of a mutt." Pavot looked up at me with hurt eyes, as though he could understand what I was saying. I laughed and rubbed him behind the ears until his tongue lolled out happily.

Dagny walked over and tentatively reached out toward him. I was prepared to pull her away if I had to. Pavot didn't like very many people. He didn't bite except on command, but he could seem quite scary when he wanted to be. Fortunately, he seemed to like Dagny; at the least, he tolerated her petting him. As she rubbed the top of the ice wolf's head, she turned to look at me and smiled. Her fingers slowly circled mine, until she was rubbing the back of my hand instead of Pavot's head.

I looked down at her, wondering what she was doing, when she closed her eyes and tilted her head up toward me. I stared at her in confusion until she opened her eyes again. Her lips curled into a pout and she put her hands on her hips.

"You really don't know anything useful, do you?" she complained. Before I could respond, she leaned up and pressed her lips against mine. I gasped in shock, parting my teeth enough for her tongue to briefly test mine before withdrawing. Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned down into her kiss, closing my eyes and just enjoying the moment. Finally, after a long time, we both drew back to take a breath.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"I felt like it," Dagny said with a flutter of her hair. "Don't think that it means I like you or anything. I just felt sorry for you, that's all."

"Sure thing, princess," I said with a smile. "Whatever you say."

Before I could lean in to kiss Dagny again, I happened to look behind her. Past the low wall of Proudspire Manor's patio, across the small gap, on the patio of Dagny's house, I could see Nelkir standing there. I had no idea how long he had been there, watching us, but his face was dark and his eyes hateful.

If I didn't know better, I would swear that he was thinking about killing me.

…to be continued…