Chapter 11: Winter Chill

My recovery from hypothermia and pneumonia was easier than my childhood illnesses had been, but it still wasn't pleasant. I spent the next week as little more than an invalid with Jordis and Dagny taking turns watching me. But Jordis had to sleep sometimes and Dagny wasn't always around, so the enforced inactivity started to take its toll on me around the third day.

Fortunately for my sanity, I had most of my books in Proudspire Manor. I had enjoyed reading before I came to Solitude, but reading for pleasure was something that I had fallen out of the habit of doing ever since beginning my lessons at the Bards College. With nowhere to go and a pair of women who were fairly insistent that I recuperate fully before becoming mobile again, it was good to have a sedentary hobby to fall back on.

It felt like it had been forever since I had read Night Falls on Sentinel or The Black Arrow, but it couldn't have been more than a year. Honestly, it hadn't even been that long since I learned how to read, now that I thought about it. Gaining my literacy was the one good thing that came out of my time at Honorhall Orphanage.

Well, that and Grelod the Kind meeting a painful end.

While I had my books, it was company I craved most. I had always been afraid of being lonely. Growing up with just my mother and few friends, then the time I spent on my own after leaving Honorhall, had left me constantly looking for company and approval. I might have seemed like a loner to my friends at Bards College, but it was only because I wanted very badly to be back with my family.

Time passed differently in school, it seemed; sometimes I felt like I had already known Dagny and Jordis for years even though it had only been four or five months. It seemed strange now that I was back at Proudspire to not see Ataf every day, not to have a regimented schedule of classes to attend, not to take my meals at certain times. I had gotten used to life in school just as quickly as Nazir had predicted—and I couldn't deny that part of me enjoyed it.

Even with books and occasional company, I had plenty of time to think over the next week. I would often find my mind drifting back to what Ataf had told me a few weeks before—that I should hurry up and choose Dagny before I messed things up with her. More and more since then, I had begun to think that the choice I was supposed to be making wasn't between Dagny and Runa; after all, I didn't even know what Runa thought about me beyond liking to wind me up. No, the choice I needed to make was more basic than that.

The choice was between life in the Brotherhood and life outside it.

Going out and threatening Erikur with Runa had been fun, even thrilling. There was a part of me—a big part—that thought maybe we should have just killed him and been done with it. But my tendency to run toward trouble and make things worse had almost gotten me killed more than once, most recently when I nearly got my block knocked off by a psychopath in a daedra mask, nearly pinched by the city guard, and then suffered hypothermia during my narrow escape. Things like that can sour a person on the idea of looking for trouble.

I couldn't deny either that I really liked Dagny pampering me. I knew that I shouldn't get used to it; as soon as I could breathe normally again, it would be back to fending for myself and putting up with her snide remarks about my manners and upbringing. Still, it helped show that there were people outside the Brotherhood I could rely on, people who cared about me as a person and not because I was good at ending human lives. It was almost as intoxicating as mead.

At the same time, being stuck in a bed for a week reminded me how much I had come to relish the physical part of my training and work. I didn't feel right skipping my morning exercises for days on end. Beyond that, I knew that I enjoyed my job; killing in the Night Mother's name felt righteous. Even pushing around a pompous prick like Erikur had felt like doing the good work. And I couldn't deny that I was a little addicted to the thrills, even when they might cost me my life—especially then, maybe.

The truth was that my life in Solitude was a lie. If the people who thought they knew me found out what I really was—who I really was—they would all reject me in a heartbeat. By Sithis, half of them would probably try to turn me in! I couldn't bear the idea that Dagny might ever look at me like some kind of monster; even the thought of it made my chest hurt. Some of that might have been the pneumonia, but it still wasn't a pleasant notion.

I didn't dare ask Hecate if there was a precedent for leaving the Dark Brotherhood. What if it was some sort of taboo? Cicero was the closest thing I had to a father, and he would still gut me in a second if he thought I was disrespecting the Night Mother.

Even worse, what if there was a precedent? What if I could just walk away? Would I dare? Hecate had always been reluctant on bringing me into the Brotherhood anyway. She was radical enough of a Listener that even if there weren't a precedent, she might just allow it.

So around and around it went. There were plenty of arguments for and against both paths, and neither of them could be everything I wanted out of my life. In the end, after a week of recuperating and thinking about the problem long and deep, I did what I always did in situations like this one: I changed the subject and stopped thinking about it.

In retrospect, not making a choice while I had time to think on it was probably one of the stupidest things I had ever done—and that wasn't a short list by any means. A lot of the tragedies of the next year of my life could have probably have been avoided if I had just made up my mind then and there.

But I didn't. And many of the terrible things that came to me afterward are surely because of my indecision.

"Murders?" I asked Dagny, sitting in bed with my head propped up. Her usual daily dose of gossip just included what her friends were wearing or which thanes were sleeping with each other's spouses. Hearing sweet Dagny bring up something I was so intimately familiar with created an odd sort of dissonance in me.

"Don't tell Father I mentioned it," she responded, putting a bowl of broth down on the tray that straddled my lap. "I heard him talking to Irileth about it a few days ago. I wanted to ask if you getting robbed could be related, but I didn't want him to know that I was eavesdropping."

"I doubt it's related," I said quickly. "I don't think a cold-blooded killer would just beat me up and take my coin purse. If it was related, you'd probably be crying over my grave right now instead of bringing me soup."

"Don't even joke," Dagny replied sharply. "Irileth warned me that I shouldn't be out after dark by myself, but she wouldn't explain why. I think these murders might be the cause. Would you mind asking my father about it when you get a chance?"

"Me?" I asked in surprise. "Why do you think he would tell me about it and not you?"

"He's always trying to shield his 'precious children' from unpleasant news," Dagny sighed as she shook her head, her curly dark-blonde locks dancing around her chubby face. "It's why he wouldn't even let Frothar learn how to use a sword until he was fifteen. I think he'd talk to you about it, though. Having the Dragonborn's son show an interest in local events would light up his day, I think."

"We'll see," was what I told her.

Inwardly, I was grateful to hear about an opportunity to ask someone high-ranking about the man that had almost gotten me killed. I was also disturbed. Dagny had said "murders"—that meant there was more than the one I had witnessed. Since I hadn't heard anything about a serial killer loose in Solitude that meant the authorities were trying to keep it quiet. Things like this had a way of spreading, though. If I couldn't get Jarl Balgruuf to open up to me, I still had other avenues to find out what the word on the street was about the murders, if any.

Given how sloppy Demon Mask had seemed with the girl in the alley, I couldn't imagine that he had killed more than two or three people total. He was completely untrained when it came to things like weaponry and murder; a trained killer wouldn't have let the girl even get a chance to scream. He had only managed to slip away from me because of some fancy unarmed moves and being small enough that he could slip through an alley I couldn't fit into.

I nearly dropped my spoon and had to make my apologies to Dagny for still being weak and dizzy. It wasn't the sickness that had made me suddenly clumsy, though. It was a horrible thought.

The killer didn't necessarily have to be a man. I had been making an assumption more than anything else, but the killer being shorter than me and thinner could well indicate a woman. The mask had completely covered his—or her—face, and Demon Mask's armor was form-concealing enough that there had been no way to see any sign of his—or her—gender. Honestly, anyone could be a suspect.

Well, except Dagny. I was pretty sure she was too chubby to fit into Demon Mask's armor.

I resolved to myself that even though I would keep calling Demon Mask "he"—it was just easier for me—that I wouldn't dismiss any evidence or indications that might lead to a woman.

"Are you okay, Aventus?" Dagny asked me. "You seem distracted."

"Just thinking about what you told me," I admitted. "I can't imagine someone getting killed in a city as beautiful as Solitude."

"Well, we have a few deaths every year from brawls and robberies gone bad," she said sadly. "I think this is different, though. Father seems genuinely upset about the whole thing."

"I think you should listen to Irileth," I told her. "Don't go out after dark until this is taken care of. I couldn't stand it if something happened to you."

"That's sweet, Aventus," she said before taking my chin between her thumb and forefinger. She locked eyes with me and gave me a smile that was more razors than sweetrolls. "Sweet but stupid. Don't make the same mistake my father does. I'm not a helpless princess who needs someone to take care of her—I'm a Nord."

"I suppose I was fooled by you being so much shorter than me," I snarked, then immediately regretted it when she pinched my chin. "Ouch!"

"Everyone's always trying to watch out for me, keep me safe," she complained. "I can take care of myself."

"We all need someone to watch out for us sometimes," I told her, reaching out to lay my hands on her shoulders. "Just take it as a compliment that you have so many people who care about you."

Was I really saying this? Were these my words? They sounded an awful lot like someone else. I didn't know if I needed to thank Ataf the next time I saw him or pop him one in the nose.

"I'm grateful," she smiled. Our hands found each other, right before she pinched my chin again. "Now eat your soup before it gets too cold."

I sipped my broth while Dagny returned to lighter topics, half-listening and nodding in the right places. I was anxious to finish my recovery and get moving again. Every day I wasn't hunting down leads about Demon Mask was another day he was free to kill. I couldn't make contact with my resources—Brotherhood or otherwise—from a sickbed. Until I was up on my own two feet, I was out of the game.

I didn't intend to stay out for long.

It took me a week to get over my persistent cough. I probably could have been up and about two days sooner than that since the fever and chills had gone, taking the heavy, wet feeling in my lungs with them, but Dagny had insisted that I didn't start breathing cold air again until my cough was completely over. She said that "southerners" sometimes had bad reactions to the cold after pneumonia.

I didn't know whether I should believe her or not, but staying in bed for an extra couple of days was a small price to pay if it would keep her from wondering too deeply about why I was so anxious to get moving again.

The day I was ready to walk out of Proudspire Manor was a beautiful day—to me, if not to anyone else. The sky was overcast and the streets were filled with grey snow and sludge. Still, being on my own feet again felt amazing, even if I was still a little weak and dizzy after the whole ordeal. I told Jordis that I was going to take Pavot for a walk, and after promising her that I wouldn't push myself too hard, she finally agreed to let me go out.

It took me a while to dress myself. Fortunately, I had another good coat and cloak to replace the ones I had been required to dispose of before coming home. Being friends with Dagny had had the unintended positive side effect of dramatically increasing my wardrobe. When I got downstairs to the front entrance, I found Jordis there in full winter garb, kneeling in front of Pavot and rubbing his jowls while declaring that he was a good boy. For his part, Pavot was tolerating the whole thing with remarkable patience.

"Are you going out too?" I asked her.

"Of course I am, silly," she responded, standing up and turning to face me. "With you!"

I groaned softly before rubbing one gloved hand across my face and trying to salvage the situation.

"Jordis," I started, "it's not that I wouldn't appreciate the company-"

"Great!" she exclaimed. "It's settled then! We're going to have a nice walk together, and I can pick up some supplies while we're out. I haven't been able to properly go shopping all week, so we're just about out of everything…"

I sighed and took Pavot's leash. There was no way that I could argue with Jordis without it seeming suspicious, so I would just have to figure out some way to make contact without her noticing. Honestly, I liked Jordis but she wasn't the sharpest sword on the rack and I was trained in stealth and infiltration. Passing off a message without her catching me in the act would probably be easy as pie. The hard part would be getting her to the dead drop's location without her raising a fuss.

I leashed up Pavot and opened the door with a "you first" gesture to Jordis. I didn't normally keep my ice wolf on a leash while he was out with me, but he had finally started to understand that he needed to wear one while we were out with other people. Most of the folks who knew about Pavot thought that he was just a somewhat wolfy-looking dog rather than a full-grown, vicious ice wolf. To keep that illusion up, he needed a leash while we were out in public during the day and going further than the edge of the very nice upper-class neighborhood that Proudspire Manor was in.

Once we were outside, I didn't have a lot of time to worry about Jordis since it seemed like Pavot was dead set on dragging me off my feet. I knew that he hadn't been out much in the last week, so he must have been just an antsy as me to get out and get some exercise. Within a few minutes, I was even grateful to have Jordis along so that I could pass Pavot's leash off to her. Despite my insistence that I was ready to get back to business as usual, my muscles were aching and I was breathing hard no more than two blocks from Proudspire. I couldn't blame it all on Pavot's enthusiasm either; a week of severe illness takes more out of you than most people think.

Wandering around from one shop to another took up the next several hours. If we'd had to carry our own purchases back to Proudspire, I'm not certain that we could have managed it all; Jordis bought food and supplies like she was preparing for a siege. Fortunately, most of the shops in Solitude's market district were more than happy to have our purchases delivered this evening—for a small additional fee, naturally.

Every time Jordis bought something without haggling, I flinched a little bit. Honestly, it was more that I hated to see people spend money at all than that I thought anything was particularly overpriced. Growing up poor had left me with—let's call it an over-appreciation—for coin. I didn't like spending money; I just liked having money. Meena had always called me cheap, but I preferred to think that I just wasn't as much of a wastrel as most assassins. The majority of my brothers and sisters in the Dark Brotherhood threw away their money constantly on drink and whores and little pleasures. I rarely indulged in drink, never in prostitutes, and didn't have any hobbies beyond music and reading, both of which were inexpensive.

The fact that Hecate seemed to agree with my policy comforted me, since she was just as loathe to spend coin as I was—if not more so. There were tens of thousands of septims stuck under the floorboards of her old house in Whiterun; if the Stormcloaks ever bothered searching the place, they'd have enough cash to keep the war efforts going even without the silver mines at Markarth. Of course, we were both cheap even by Nazir's standards, and he was the Brotherhood's notoriously tight-fisted quartermaster.

As the day wore on, Jordis seemed to be just as fresh as ever while I was virtually gasping with exertion. She seemed cool and unaffected in her heavy armor and woolen winter clothes, even carrying the packages that we couldn't get delivered and letting Pavot half-drag her across the city. I felt a little jealous of her sheer endurance; whatever I might think of her intelligence, I couldn't deny her tenacity.

"Do you need to take a break?" Jordis asked me for what felt like the tenth time.

"I'm fine," I insisted, despite the fact that pushing the words out felt almost painful.

"Well, I need a break," she said with a cheerful smile. "I think a little sit-down, a quick bite to eat, and a drink would be very nice." She paused and scanned around, looking for a suitable place to stop.

"I know a place near here," I said quickly. "It's not exactly classy, but it's cheap and quick."

"I already know a place," she said without looking at me. "I'm just trying to figure out which direction it's in. I've lived in Solitude my whole life and I still get lost this far from the Blue Palace…"

Damn it all. Of course she already knew someplace she wanted to go. Just my luck I would never get to-

"It's called the Winking Skeever," Jordis continued, not noticing my frustration. "Have you ever been there?"

"Once or twice," I lied easily. It sometimes amazed me how casual I had become about lying to people I cared about. "It's over that way." I pointed the right direction to her, and Jordis' face lit up.

"Great!" she chirped. "It'll be good for us both to get off our feet for a while before we finish up and head home."

Jordis looked at me and smiled—but it was a slightly worried smile, one that didn't quite touch her eyes. I realized that she was lying about needing to take a break; she was just worried about me. I thought about objecting, even though it would mess up my own plans, but I finally decided that I would just accept the gesture for what it was. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty about using Jordis so blithely while she was so clearly concerned about my well-being.

We took it slow and steady on the way to the tavern, chatting amiably about my school work and the extra tutoring I would be getting when the new semester started. Jordis mostly listened to me as I talked and occasionally prompted me for more information about things. I got the distinct impression from her sparse responses when I asked her questions that it wasn't that she was unwilling to talk about herself so much as not having a lot to talk about.

Jordis spent most of her time guarding the home of a woman who was hardly ever in the city, and hardly spent any time talking with her unwanted housecarl when she was here. She had been away from her family and friends for most of the last year, taken out of the ebb and flow of court life to perform an honorable—if somewhat menial and symbolic—duty. She could have spent more time at the Blue Palace, I supposed, but she seemed to take her job very seriously. I had a lot of sympathy for her situation; I was just as isolated from my loved ones as she was, but at least I had school and new friends to keep me distracted.

Was Jordis lonely? I couldn't think of anything worse than that, and I quietly pledged to spend more time with her in the coming months. Bringing her along with me to Jarl Balgruuf's home for New Life Day was a good first step. No one should have to spend the holidays alone.

The Winking Skeever was just where I had left it the last time I had been there, drinking with Runa in the aftermath of my disastrous day out with Nelkir. I had thought about stopping in for a drink a few times since then, but I really hadn't wanted to run into Nelkir again. There was still a chance I would see him there, but I figured he wasn't enough of a jerk to start anything with me as long as Jordis was around.

The two of us made our way inside, and I sighed with pleasure as the warmth from the hearth struck me in a wave. I hadn't realized how cold I was until I was someplace warm. We both stretched and started pulling off our cloaks when the barkeep yelled at us.

"You can't bring that dog in here!" he shouted. "Tie that flea bag up outside!"

Pavot started to growl, and I again wondered if he actually understood what the man was saying or if he was just responding to the tone. Jordis started shifting around, trying to get her cloak back on without putting down our packages or letting go of Pavot's leash.

"It's okay," I told her, taking the lead from her hand. "I'll take Pavot outside while you grab a booth and drinks." She smiled and nodded, keeping her cloak balanced on one arm while shifting the packages between her hands. As I turned away and walked out, I heard a muttered "Oops!" and a series of crashes that let me know that Jordis had once again fallen on her ass. It shocked me that the woman could walk across a solid sheet of ice without slipping in the least, but could trip over her own feet on flat, dry wooden floors.

I winced with sympathy, but I was also a little relieved. If Jordis was busy collecting our things and getting herself upright, she wouldn't come looking for me if I took longer than I intended.

I quickly tied up Pavot to the hitching post outside the tavern, putting him well down from the single horse that was tethered up outside. I wasn't worried about Pavot attacking anyone's horse while he was left on his own as much as I was worried that his presence would make a horse panic. After scratching the ice wolf behind his ears, I walked around the corner into the alley next to the tavern. A small, narrow door was set into the building's wall at almost the alley's end, a back door into the kitchen and taproom for the staff to bring in shipments and take out garbage. Across the alley from that door was a garbage bin, overflowing as usual from the Skeever's leavings; to the right of that bin was a stone wall with a loose brick.

I walked down the alley, ready to put a hand to my trousers if anyone came out of the tavern; someone stumbling into the alley to urinate next to the bin was common enough around here that no one would think twice about it. I made sure to avoid the pile of yellowish snow and slush as I worked the loose brick out of its niche. As I expected, there was no message in the dead drop that Runa and I had arranged weeks ago. We hadn't had much of a reason to contact one another since we shook down Thane Erikur.

I pulled a scrawled note out of my pocket, all that I had been able to sneak off to do while Jordis was shopping, and shoved it into the niche, pushing the brick in on top of it. I had no idea how often Runa checked our message box, so I figured it could take days or even a week before I heard back from her. That wasn't as quick as I would like, but I didn't really have a better way of getting in touch with her.

Feeling accomplished that I had gotten my message passed without being caught, I strode out of the alley and quickly turned back into the Winking Skeever, patting Pavot along the way. Once I was inside, I hung up my cloak and started scanning the smoky tavern for a sight of my strawberry-blonde companion. I was a bit surprised to see her sitting at a booth in the back—but not alone. Another woman was sitting with her, though all I could see was long brown hair and-

Oh no. Sweet Mother, how unlucky could I be?

Jordis was laughing as I jogged up, one hand over her mouth as though she was trying to hold in the giggles from a particularly naughty joke. She took a long drink when I stopped at the table and looked up at me.

"Aventus!" she said happily. "I ordered us a couple of [[shepherd's pies]]. I hope that's okay." I nodded and maneuvered around to confirm what I already knew what true, keeping my face as straight as possible. Jordis noticed my stare, though, and gestured at her new friend. "I hope you don't mind Runa joining us. She saw us come in and said that she's an old friend of yours. I figured that would be all right."

"That's fine, Jordis," I said, looking down at the smiling, almost predatory face of Runa Fair-Shield. "Runa and I go back a long way."

"I think our food's up," Jordis said, pulling herself out of the booth. "You sit and rest while I get it." I nodded in agreement and settled myself into a seat across from Runa. As soon as Jordis was out of earshot, I leaned in to whisper at her.

"What are you doing?" I asked harshly.

"What do you mean?" she responded with mock innocence. "I'm just saying hello to an old friend. Normal people do that all the time, Aventus. Are you ashamed of me?" She leaned closer, her smile become even more razor-edged and slightly crazed. "I mean, the son of an important person can't be seen in public with a thief, right?"

"It's not that!" I objected.

"Does your mother know what you do?" she asked with a smile. I sighed inwardly with relief; Runa hadn't made a connection between Diana Dragonborn and the Dark Brotherhood, which was really what I had feared.

"No," I lied, "and she never will. Are we clear about that?" Runa nodded, no longer smiling. "Diana is a good woman and she was kind to take me in. I won't have that kindness repaid by any shame coming to her from me—regardless of what I've chosen to do with my life."

"I understand," Runa said grudgingly. "Still, it's got to be pretty sweet, right? Adopted by a rich, famous lady and trained by the best assassins in the world. Sounds incredible to me."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be sometimes," I said with absolute honesty. "And before you ask, Jordis doesn't know either. I'd take it as a kindness if you didn't mention either of our actual professions around her."

"Jordis is a hoot," she responded, smiling again. "She's too good to be your friend." Runa laughed and took a long pull from her ale. I relaxed; she would keep my secrets.

"I actually came out here to get in touch with you," I told her when she finished chugging her drink. "I left a message in our dead drop."

"Dead drop?" she asked, seemingly confused. After a moment, she frowned at me and set her mug down with a heavy thunk. "Aventus, I don't check that gods damned thing. If you want to get in touch with me, just leave a message with the bartender." I sighed deeply and ran a hand over my face, but we had to cut our conversation short because of Jordis coming back with the food and refills for our drinks.

"Who's hungry?" Jordis said with a tone so cheerful it made me want to hurl.

I could already tell this was going to be a fun meal.

A late lunch at the Winking Skeever turned into a long afternoon of drinks and tavern food. Runa and Jordis were actually really fun to hang out with, especially once Jordis had a couple of pints in her. Runa shared a few stories of some of the more legitimate things she had done in the last few years, mostly tavern brawls and one night stands turned bad in the dumbest ways.

"With a chicken?" Jordis asked with wide, unbelieving eyes. "No!"

"Swear to Talos!" Runa shouted. "And when I asked him about it—way more calmly than he deserved, mind you—all he was able to come up with was, 'I was just looking for an egg.'" The two woman burst out laughing, slapping their hands on the table as they did, and even I found myself chuckling along, though these ribald stories didn't usually tickle my funny bone.

"What happened to him?" I asked when they finally stopped laughing.

"I clocked him one, took the very traumatized chicken back to its coop, and ducked out," she said, trying to keep a straight face. "It wasn't like I could turn him in. I'd already been in a bar brawl where I wound up knocking the teeth out of a town guard's head, so the local law wasn't very fond of me." She took another pull from her mug before she continued. "Turned out I didn't have to. Someone saw him robbing a henhouse a few days later and called the guards on him. I don't know what they did with him, but the guards in Skyrim take crimes against chickens very seriously."

We all burst out laughing again and Jordis stood up to get more drinks, giggling as she walked away unsteadily. I looked to the windows and noticed that it was getting late; if I wanted Jordis to be able to get back to Proudspire on her own power, one more round should probably be the limit.

"What was it you wanted to find me for?" Runa asked. It was the first time in hours we had been alone together at the table, but I was surprised she still remembered.

"Someone's murdering women in Solitude," I said, all the laughter draining out of my voice like liquor from a holed cask. "I got a glimpse of him in the act. I need someone to ask around about the killings and find out what the city guard isn't telling us, what the people on the street know about it. You're way better at that sort of thing than me."

"You want to find him and recruit him?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"I want to find him and put him in the ground," I responded. "That's why I'm asking you and not a Sibling."

"Would your superiors approve of you taking this on yourself?" Runa asked, apparently genuinely interested.

"Probably not," I admitted, "but I see things differently than they do. If someone's murdering innocent people in my city, I intend to stop them."

"Your city?" she mused. "That's awfully arrogant."

"Are you going to help me or not?" I pushed, keeping an eye on Jordis as she wandered back our way.

"All you had to do was ask," Runa said with a tight smile. "Every time I go out with you, I get into a fight. Good times."

"You're a strange girl," I muttered to her.

"You love it," she teased.

As Jordis returned with our last round of drinks, I smiled a bemused smile. She was right, after all. I did love it. I wasn't sure that I loved Runa—really, I wasn't sure I even knew what love was, other than the familial love I felt for the Dark Brotherhood—but I certainly loved the way she made me feel. Getting into trouble with Runa was like a drug; I'd only had it a couple of times, but I was already craving more. Sweet Mother help me, I was looking forward to putting on the colors and getting into a fight with her at my back instead of her trying to clean my clock.

By Oblivion, I was halfway looking forward to just fighting her again. With the way Runa thought about the world, I figured it was inevitable. Sooner or later, she would decide that I was looking at her funny and we'd be back to leaving bruises on each other and spitting blood in an alley somewhere. She was a good partner and a good opponent.

Could that be enough for a relationship? Would she even want one? Would I want one that turned violent at the drop of a hat?

It certainly seemed to work well enough for Hecate and Cicero after all…

…to be continued…