A/N: And?! What do you guys think of Shantanalz? Did y'all see her coming? Sithis guide your pen, sweet Siblings, when you review after you've read!
Chapter 39: Meet the Extended Family
The mood in the Sanctuary was lighter than the previous evening, and only the Shadowscale, Shantanalz, was awake and doing some sort of training. I stood up, stretching as I watched her. I let out a relieved breath, smiling to myself briefly. "A wandering troubadour…."
She stopped juggling her small throwing daggers, glancing at me before sheathing them in the leather belt across her back. "I suppose you could say that – it is a ruse I have taken up to avoid capture at the hands of the Empire's Penitus Oculatus agents."
I threw her a grin, nodding. I had been worrying about nothing all this time with that prophecy, I thought, walking closer to the Argonian when she turned to face me, her tail gently swishing from side to side. A mix of emotions ran through me briefly – relief, sadness, hurt, happiness: Cicero wasn't going to come back from the dead, after all.
"I have something else I need to tell you, Listener Alysa," the dark purple Shadowscale hissed softly, motioning that I should follow her to another corridor. "I am here not only to bring tidings of Veezara's death, nor to tell you that I am a Shadowscale to join the Dark Brotherhood. No," she shook her head, dead serious. "I am here to tell you that my order is not as dead as was presumed."
"I was under the impression that the training facilities in Archon were shut down…?"
"They were shut down, yes. But there were several of us who survived, and some were being groomed to teach the next series of hatchlings when they were brought to us. Sadly, the Penitus Oculatus were hot on the Dark Brotherhood's trail, so we never took on that year's hatchlings, never returned to the facilities. To the best of my knowledge, it was never found, but I would rather not risk returning. Anyway, what I wanted to tell you is that I was one of the few chosen to teach the hatchlings, and I am tracking the other Shadowscales I knew, along with the more traditional Argonian families who have young born under the Shadow. There are many who still believe in the Shadowscales, so it will not be difficult to gather hatchlings. Unfortunately, my training was left incomplete, so I require the assistance of other Shadowscales and the Dark Brotherhood to undertake this endeavor."
I was shocked – amazed. "That's…" I grinned, and Shantanalz nodded, looking genuinely excited, too.
"I will eventually need to put a training facility together, possibly in Skyrim first, then return to Black Marsh. I also intend to create a few chapters, spread across Tamriel so that my order does not come as close to extinction as it is now. But what I mean by all this is, we will unite our orders again. Presently, I must leave and take necessary action to gather resources. I hope we can remain in contact with one another, from now on out."
"Of course! Anything you need, let me know. Another good place to look for information is in Riften. The Thieves' Guild is in the sewers beneath the city known as the Ratway, if you haven't been there before."
"I have not, and I will look into it. Thank you, Listener Alysa Ice-Wrath," the Shadowscale dipped her head, offering me a smile I returned. And then she left, disappearing up the passage and out into Skyrim.
I laughed. For all our hardships, many things that were once gone, or lost, were coming back. There was a lot to do, and it wouldn't be easy, but everything coming together like this…. It gave me hope for my Family. I would also need to visit the Ratway, and talk to our associates about fixing up this place. It was high time we had a proper home, and this one needed some renovating.
The red-haired man followed the stories of a mismatched band traveling north, up through Riverwood and into Whiterun, and from there, the party seemed to disband – one remained in the city, one traveled west, and three traveled north. Some said they went up to Morthal, others said to Dawnstar. Then one who went west returned to fetch the one who remained behind, and they too disappeared on a horse darker than the moonless nights early in the Fourth Era. "They wouldn't go to Morthal, no…. What's there, anyway, besides marshes and insects and disease and vampire lairs? Horrible place, we must admit…" the man muttered to himself, lifting a copy of the Black Horse Courier from a passing citizen. He'd need something to read on the way up north, wouldn't he? Of course he would! Chatting idly to the driver and other passengers was just… tedious! Meticulous! Ridiculous!
"You can't go down to the Ratway by yourself! We're small enough as it is – we can't afford to lose you! Send someone else to go," Nazir argued, his deep voice rumbling louder and louder, scowling at me as he leaned on our table.
I rolled my eyes, turning away and running my fingers through my knotted hair. "Delvin knows me from the last time we spoke – anyone else going down there will be eaten alive by those thieves! The Ragged Flagon doesn't exactly welcome new patrons and passers-through. I'll be fine on my own, Nazir!" I snarled back, unwilling to back down. "We need a refurnished Sanctuary – and I will go there and discuss the details with Delvin! Babette, what rooms have you managed to identify so far?" I changed the subject, ignoring Lucien's impressed chuckles and looking at Babette.
She shifted in her seat, ignoring Nazir's glare. "The training room is alright, but could do with more weapons – both legitimate and dummies for training – but that's something we can pick up easily from the local blacksmith. Some of the training dummies need repairs, but those are also easily obtained in this little city. The alchemical area is in disarray – there was a garden, but it's full of weeds now, and I think the soil may be barren," Babette pouted for a moment before continuing. "So that needs to be redone, with a more modern alchemy station. All the banners and Tenet plaques need to be replaced, and since they're a specialty order, I wouldn't go anywhere other than the Thieves Guild for that. The main hall obviously –" she motioned at the empty, cold hall around us, "– needs a proper table, the fireplace needs repairs, a cooking area is mildly important, that gaping hole needs to be closed, too. Although, it would be perfect for preserving meats and other… perishables," she grinned darkly. "Did you know there's an ice troll dead in there?"
"Yes. I killed it. What else needs to be done?" I drummed my fingers on the table, glancing around at everyone.
"Impressive, Listener. Not that I would have expected any less of you," Uvelaes replied smoothly. "Living quarters –for initiates, the Sanctuary leader, and what looks like special chambers for the Listener, a Speaker and the Keeper, as well as what I would assume used to be vampire's chambers – need to be redone completely – beds, chests, dressers; the list goes on. I also found what I believe is a torture chamber." Uvelaes smirked darkly. "Could be quite a bit of fun, if we restore that as well…."
"Torture chamber? I didn't see one the first time I came here," I frowned, running through my memories of the place. I scowled at the darkly suggestive look the Dunmer threw at a completely oblivious Aventus, then shook my head. I didn't remember it.
"It's in extreme disarray and decay – I first thought it was merely an ill-maintained area of the Sanctuary, until I paid more attention to the rather unique devices still lying around."
I nodded slowly. "Fine. Compile complete lists of what we need, how many we need of what, and where it needs to go. I'll go through the Sanctuary again, and see what's here. I also think we should add a second, secret entrance to the Sanctuary. Both for more discrete access, and as an escape should the possibility of another assault on the Sanctuary happen. It will need to end somewhere outside of Dawnstar, hidden from view but clearly marked to our Family."
"Ah, I remember climbing down the well outside the Cheydinhal Sanctuary…. It was exceptionally useful, and far less frustrating than trying to climb through the boards at the door, or through a broken window. The dear Count Indarys rather liked keeping the house in pristine condition," Lucien laughed darkly, leaning against the wall and folding his hands into his sleeves.
Babette giggled, nodding. "Yes! Though, it was much easier for me, being so small!"
"Cheydinhal? Wasn't that Sanctuary attacked a couple years ago?" Aventus asked, looking completely confused. Nazir smacked him over the head, while Babette and Lucien scowled, muttering about 'two-hundred years ago, you idiot', and everyone scattered to take stock of what we needed to order from the Thieves' Guild.
I have twenty-thousand septims to make purchases with from the last contract; and not much more than ten-thousand personally, which I had saved up from before…. I'd rather not be overly excessive, but there are things that we need, and that will have to come first.
I wandered through the Sanctuary, amazed for the first time at how expansive it was, even when the ice caverns were discounted. We worked through the lists, then went to all the rooms and changed more things until we finally agreed on a series of necessities. Arguments broke out often, and that pushed the whole affair right through the day.
"Assassins weren't meant to decorate homes for the living," I muttered into my tankard that night, scowling at the lists on the table. We added discrete stables after we realized that three – or more – horses would be difficult to conceal in the open, between the ocean and snow banks. Nazir had finally given in to me concerning the Thieves' Guild, but insisted that Aventus accompanied me. Which was fine – there wasn't a desperate need to get this done as soon as possible, but it would certainly make life easier. And, as of yet, the Night Mother had yet to call on me to hand out contracts. I supposed we would also need to reinstate the ranks and hierarchy; however that was determined before we were routed out by the Oculatus agents. Then we would need to figure out how bonuses would work, who would fill out which roles. Build up a reliable network of spies, couriers, bring in scribes to re-record all of our history, the Keeping Tomes….
But that was a conversation for another day. Tomorrow we left for Riften.
The red-haired man couldn't believe the news in the Black Horse Courier – the Emperor of Tamriel, assassinated? He tried to keep in his laughter, but he couldn't; it was just such good news! He was so proud…. The carts refused to leave Whiterun, what with increased dragon attacks recently, and then there were terrible stories of horrible things happening at the College of Winterhold – stories of a strange artifact being found, misused, abused: and a Thalmor was behind all of it, no less. A second agent had been sent in to re-evaluate the situation, and upon informing his superiors that the original agent was unstable, was removed, sent back to wherever they called him from. Now, only a particularly gifted mage stood between the people and 'imminent' disaster….
The red-haired man thought it rather dramatic, really, when a new copy of the Courier mentioned that the College had been completely sealed off with magic, and strange, magical 'monstrosities' and 'obscenities-anomalies' had been cropping up in the area, plaguing the citizens and being generally pesky. "I suppose I could get in there…. Mages think magic is so wonderful and all-powerful…. Just give this Fool a chance and he'll be right inside, next to whoever is in there. Well, there was one mage we'll never forget – but he isn't around anymore." He folded his two editions of the Courier, opting for an early night rather than another rowdy, ruckus night of bar brawls and drunken Nords mistaking him for a Stormcloak spy, then an Imperial soldier.
Really, were they blind? Why would a poor, wondering-wandering and homeless troubadour be a soldier, or a spy? "Stupid Nords…" he muttered angrily under his breath, locking his inn door behind him.