Krev was not happy. This was not a new, or recent, phenomena. Those members of the Silver Hand who had sworn allegiance to Krev were used to his moods, and to the sour look that seemed to be permanently painted upon his face. And since the target of those moods was most frequently Soran, or occasionally Hellina, none of the men that numbered almost twenty paid any additional attention these last few weeks, though most of them did not fail to notice that Krev drank more than usual, or healthy, during that time.

Speaking one's mind in faithful service to one's cause is the duty of any second-in-command, and so it was that Frik found himself standing, or rather sitting, upon dangerous ground as he addressed the man seated on a boulder a short distance from him.

"Why do you continue to endure his abuse? You have but to speak, and we will rise up in your name and remove him, and any who would defend him. You would be Harbinger beyond any dispute."

"He commands five times our number, in case you have forgotten. More than that, if you make an honest appraisal of the strength of Urul and Sharn in battle."

"I have not forgotten, but his followers are scattered and could never come to his defense. If we strike now, we are evenly matched, Orsimer cousins or no."

Krev threw another stone into the stream in front of him and considered Frik's words. He had fantasized more times than he could count about killing Soran, but those fantasies evaporated each time he stood before the powerful Nord.

"We cannot attack him openly. Even if we succeeded our victory would be short lived. We would not hold that prize for long, not with Soran's blood on our hands. If we are to strike it must be from stealth. It cannot be traced back to us."

"We could engage the Dark Brotherhood," Frik said, knowing what answer he would receive.

Another stone flew into the stream. "I do not have one-thousand gold, and neither do you. Our entire band does not possess that much, and I would not waste it on Soran if we did."

"Then we find another way," Frik said, picking up a stone of his own before flinging it into the stream, a demonstration of solidarity with his de facto commander.

"We find another way," Krev agreed, "when the time is right, when the conditions are right."

There was a moment of quiet, broken only by the sound of stones landing in the stream, which seemed to be ice cold no matter the time of year. Krev hated washing his clothes in the ice cold water. It seemed to him that the cloth retained the cold for days after they had dried just to add to his misery.

"Hellina will oppose us, even if she believes Soran's death was a accident, or the will of the Gods," Frik said.

"Then we send his whore into Sovngarde with him. They can keep each other company in the banquet hall."

Krev smiled as he thought of the prospect of being rid of the pair, before a thought occurred to him.

"We can send that pompous Priest of Stendarr with them," he said as his smile broadened.

"They are a pair of plotters, make no mistake," Cruith said as she and Hellina and Carcette sat together in the small room above Dawnstar's only Apothecary.

For all their searching, they had only to look a short distance south of the Hall of the Vigilants to find it's missing, wounded commander. It was Carcette herself who they had to thank for locating her, safe, if not quite sound, at the home of the Thane of the Pale, a home that had somehow evaded the initial search for the Priestess.

"We found her unconscious in the barn," the young Dunmer Housecarl explained after Cruith and Hellina had read the note that Carcette herself had written, and the Housecarl had delivered, to Cruith in Dawnstar, "her injuries, when we discovered her, were serious; but when the fever took hold we thought she would not survive. If the Thane had been present he could have cured her quickly, but he was away. But our store of medicinals was full, and the Thane is a powerful healer and apothecary; his healing potions are well known and much sought after, and she eventually recovered, though her most serious injuries took some time."

"What was the nature of those injuries?" Cruith had asked after she had read the letter, "she only writes that she remembers little of the attack, and nothing of her flight south, and she inquires into the health of the Vigilants who were present in the Hall during the attack."

The young, dark, beauty paused as her eyes scanned the immediate area for listeners before she spoke.

"She had been bitten," she replied simply, her voice almost dropping to a whisper.

Cruith's face became pale as the blood residing there took flight, and her eyes grew large, the better to display the fear, nay terror, that she felt at what words would follow.

"Gods, no."

"But you say she recovers," Hellina said as she looked between the two dark skinned women, "You are certain. She will mend."

"She will mend, do not fear. She bears sunlight without difficulty, and can walk from our home to our farm and back again . She visits the mammoths who live nearby to us. The farmer's wife, and our house Stewart feel she is finally strong enough to travel, but we currently lack a cart to move her."

"Well, Hellina said as she looked at the Priestess of Stendarr who had quickly become her friend, "we can certainly arrange that small detail."

"I cannot tell you what they plot, but I know their kind well enough, and while I could not hear their words, their body language spoke volumes. They are up to something, and it is not good."

"If Krev is plotting something, it can only be one thing," Hellina said, "and that particular thing is definitely not good."

It was said that the Dunmer, having been betrayed so often throughout history, had developed an extra sense in compensation. Hellina had no idea if that was true, but she had no problem whatsoever believing that Krev and his followers plotted to supplant, by death if necessary, Soran as Harbinger.

"They did not observe you?" Carcette asked from where she rested in Frida's bed, which the Dawnstar Apothecary had loaned to the Priestess for the term of her recovery.

Cruith shook her head. "They had eyes for nothing but themselves and their scheming. But I was also well positioned. They were oblivious to my presence."

Hellina was quiet for a moment before she spoke. "What you say does not surprise me, friend. But we must not bore Carcette with the Hand's internal strife. She has only just returned to you. Give yourselves time to mourn your loss, and to rejoice at Carcette's safe return. The Silver Hand will see to its own troubles. But I thank you for the warning."

Soran took a moment to consider his words before he spoke. "I have no doubt that she is correct. Krev is planning something. But whatever it is, it will not be a frontal assault. He will strike from the shadows. We would all be wise to avoid dark alleyways for the time being."

Hellina's voice was as hard as Sky Steel when she spoke. "Krev would also be wise to do so. You are not the only one who is vulnerable to a knife in the dark."

"I know you only jest or I would remind you that it would not be honorable. If it proves necessary, it will be in accordance with the traditions that can be traced to Saarthal."

Hellina had no intention of letting the matter alone. "He is not honorable, and does not deserve an honorable death. He certainly does not plan an honorable death for you."

"The sin upon his head then," Soran said calmly as he took Hellina's calloused hand in his, "the weight of my own sins is such that I will not willingly add another."

Hellina smiled as her hand returned the slight pressure of his own.

"My shoulders can yet bear the weight of one more sin."

Soran released her hand, but only so he could place his hand on the side of her face.

"Save that excess capacity for a more pleasant sin," he said as his lips found hers.

"I can readily think of several more pleasant ways to use that capacity," she answered softly when her mouth was free, "but you will not distract me from this subject. There must be a final answer for Krev and those that follow him. Few of them are truly Silver Hand, most of them are no better than brigands or cut throats."

Soran had no desire to discuss the topic further, but he recognized the look in Hellina's eyes, and knew that she was serious.

"There are some that could be salvaged, but I admit that most are lost causes, and we would be well rid of them; Krev, Frik and Hylf foremost among them."

"What of Falco?" Hellina asked.

Falco was an Imperial spy. Soran knew it. Hellina knew it. Whether Krev, or any others in his odious band knew it Soran did not know.

"I would prefer to keep Falco within sight, or at least within reach, if possible; but we cannot single him out without drawing attention to him."

"Send Krev on a mission. Say that the mission is special, or important. Use what ever language that will make Krev himself feel special, or important," Hellina said, "but find a way to hold Falco and Dyus back. Tell Krev they will represent his interests while he is away. They will sit in council for him."

"We send our enemies away from us, which is the opposite of what ancient wisdom tells us to do," Soran reminded her.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, Soran thought to himself. Krev was definitely Soran's enemy, despite all of Soran's efforts.

"Ancient wisdom also tells us not to drink poison daily. Krev is poison to the Hand, and we have drunk of him long enough. It is time for us to stop."

Soran took in a deep breath before letting it out as a heavy sigh.

"Agreed."