16 Heartfire 4E201, Riverwood

Ivar looked around the hidden chamber, buried beneath the Sleeping Giant, and marveled.

Such a variety of weapons and magical treasures. Probably worth more, all told, than the inn above our heads.

"I apologize for the misdirection," said the hard-faced blonde woman who had led him to that place. "I've been on the run from the Thalmor for a very long time, and they've tried before to flush me out with decoys and fakes."

"That misdirection very nearly cost me my life," said Ivar, deliberately calm.

"Hmm. Unfortunate. The last thing Tamriel needs is a vampire Dragonborn." She cocked her head and examined him for a long minute. "Although I'm not quite ready to assume that you are a Dragonborn just yet."

"The Greybeards seem convinced. So did the dragons I've slain over the past few weeks."

She snorted rudely at mention of the Greybeards. "On this matter, I think I want some evidence for my own eyes. Fortunately, we have an opportunity for you to make a good demonstration."

Ivar shook his head.

This woman is either barking mad or very dangerous. Possibly both. But she doesn't sound insane.

"Talk to me," he commanded.

Delphine gave him a grim smile, and pulled a map out onto the table in the center of her hidden chamber. "I've been gathering clues for a long time. That ancient stone tablet you recovered from Bleak Falls Barrow, that was the final piece of the puzzle."

"You've been working with Farengar Secret-Fire?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. He doesn't know who I really am, of course."

"I will note that you haven't told me who you really are," Ivar observed.

"All in good time." She shrugged. "For now, I'm your friend and ally. Believe that or not, as you choose."

"I'll reserve judgment. So what about the stone tablet, and this map?"

Delphine bent over the table. "The tablet dated back to the era of the Dragon Priests. The Greybeards taught you about them, no doubt."

Ivar nodded. "Ancient priest-kings, who ruled over the Nords in the First Era, on behalf of their masters the dragons."

"Indeed. Now, one thing you need to understand is that dragons cannot normally be killed."

Ivar snorted. "I know better than that."

"If you're Dragonborn, then you're the one exception. You can devour the souls of dragons, taking them out of the world forever." Delphine glanced up at him, and despite her skepticism her eyes shone. "The rest of us can defeat a dragon, but we can't destroy its soul. A dragon can always be called back into the world once more."

Ivar nodded slowly. "You think that's what has been happening?"

"Yes." She bent her head over the map once more. "Look here, and here, and here. See this set of symbols?"

"Dragon-runes. I recognize them from the tablet, although I can't read them."

"I can, a little. These symbols mark the location of dragon mounds. Places where the ancient dragon cult interred their masters, in the days when the Nords rebelled against them with the first power of the thu'um."

Ivar bent close as well, excitement rising within him. "Here, out west of Whiterun. I saw an ancient mound at this spot. I assumed a human king lay there."

"No. It was a dragon." She looked up, her gaze on him intent. "I've been scouting out these sites for months now, ever since the first dragon sightings began. I've been finding some of the mounds empty. The dragons within them have risen to fly once again, after all these thousands of years."

"What's doing it?" asked the smith.

"I don't know yet. All I know is that the Thalmor seem most likely to benefit from the return of dragons to Tamriel. They could be calling the worms up to serve as a weapon against humankind."

Ivar frowned in doubt.

"In any case, I believe I've found a pattern." Delphine gave him a sharp-edged grin. "I think I can predict where and when the next dragon will be raised from its barrow."

"Where?"

She stabbed at the map with her forefinger. "Here. Kynesgrove. In three days."

"I see." Ivar stroked his beard in thought. "You want to be there. See what happens to raise the worms. If the dragon there rises from its mound, you want me on hand to slay it."

She nodded. "What better chance to demonstrate to me, and those I represent, that you are indeed Dragonborn?"

He thought about it for a long time.

"I've come to understand that the gods have something in mind for me to do," he said at last. "This seems a good opportunity for me to learn more about what that is. My housecarl and I will meet you there, in three days."

"Good." Delphine turned away, opened a small coffer on a side table. "Here. The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, for you to deliver to the Greybeards."

"I thank you." The smith took the relic, but frowned at Delphine for a moment. "I wish you to understand one thing. I do not appreciate subterfuge and double-dealing. It appears that your interests and mine march together for the moment. That does not mean that I trust you, especially given the manner in which we've met."

"Fair enough." She took a deep breath. "I do apologize. Once you know more of me and my history, you may understand better why I work from the shadows as I do. I am older than I look. I have suffered a great deal, lost a great deal in my life. Much has been stolen from me."

"I think I can see that." For the first time, Ivar gave her a small smile, and extended his hand for her to take. "We will take this one step at a time. I'm not such a fool as to cast aside a potential ally without very good reason."

Slowly, Delphine took his hand and clasped it firmly. "Good. I hope I can earn your trust."