Naar, Vala and Manis had started their journey by traveling due south until joining the main road just east of some Nord ruins that seemed to be perpetually infested by skeevers. The three neither wore, nor carried, anything that would distinguish them as members of The Silver Hand. Vala wore the armor of an Imperial Centurion which, along with the leaf blade sword and the pilum made of hardwood and steel, she had earned as a skilled, though somewhat young, member of the Emperor's Elite Legion. No one with eyes that were attached to a working brain would mistake the tattooed face that was topped with long auburn hair done up with intricate warrior's braids, for anything other than Manis' true origins in High Rock. His slightly oversized robes covered a steel breastplate and pauldrons as well as an assortment of weapons. Naar was dressed as he always was when his clandestine journeys took him to the more populated regions of Skyrim, in studded hide and leather armor and robes adorned with bits of brass, copper and gold, all burnished so that they shone in the bright sunlight.
"Disgusting creatures," Vala said, as her eyes went to the not-too-distant ruins, the sounds of skeevers fighting each other over some prey reaching such a volume that it could be clearly heard by the three travelers.
"The Gods place all of us here for a reason," Manis said, "even skeevers."
"Naar survived on roasted skeever and snow melt for almost a week many winters ago," the Khajiit said, "perhaps the Gods had that in mind when placing skeevers in Skyrim in such abundance; that skeevers are a gift, not a curse."
"Perhaps," Manis said before a question occurred to him, "how is roasted skeever?"
"It gives Naar terrible gas."
For approximately ten seconds Vala's laughter drowned out the sound of the skeevers.
"Sayusafir alnaaar 'iilaa tilk almadinat maratan fi kathir min al'ahyan," The slightly taller Khajiit said to Naar after the three of them had dismounted and approached the pair where they had been sitting under a small canopy a short distance from the road, their cart horse and it's masters enjoying a rest period, and a midday meal.
"Hadha lan yadkhul almadinat , lakinah sayantazir rufaqa' nar fi sufuh altilal," Naar replied before turning to look at his companions.
"Nabil warns this one that Naar tempts fate by venturing to Whiterun so often. Naar has reassured Nabil, and Nabil's brother Nader, that this one will simply wait in the foothills, and not tempt the wrath of the Gods."
"You are acquainted with them then, and they with you?" Manis asked as he kept his hands tucked within his robes and looked at the pair of Khajiit, who returned his gaze in kind.
Both Vala and Naar knew that both of Manis' hands were gripping the hilts of the throwing knives that were sheathed at Manis' waist.
"Manis has a very untrusting nature, which his face displays clearly," Naar said to the Breton who was equal in height and, owing to Naar's muscular physique, width.
"It was a simple question, Naar," Vala interceded, "there was no hidden message."
Naar and Manis stood silently and looked at each other while Vala's eyes traveled back and forth between the two.
"Was there?" she asked finally.
"No hidden message," Manis said after a short silence, "only old habits."
Vala knew quite well that Manis had learned his old habits in his youth during the clan wars in High Rock, when trust outside of one's own clan did not exist.
"What can they tell us regarding the Companions movements?"
"Nabil and Nader will tell nothing. The brothers are not spies, and consider the Companions, and many other residents in many other holds in Skyrim, friends. The brothers' discretion is well know, and absolute. Otherwise, Naar would be long dead."
"Naar and Naar's companions are welcome to share this meager shelter," Nabil said to the three Silver Hand in the common tongue as his hand indicated the canopy and the shade underneath, "food and drink we offer also. Be at ease. Friends of Naar are friends of Nabil and Nader."
"Blessings of the moon upon you both, friends," Vala said as she led her horse further off the road, "allow us to return your hospitality in kind."
"Naar and Vala have food to share," the Khajiit said before looking at Manis, "that one has a strong bitter beer as well, in excessive quantity."
"Beer is food, friend," Manis said in reply, his face finally breaking into a hint of a smile, "at least in the civilized parts of the world. And I already feel a powerful thirst coming on."
Beer, both the drinking of and the making of, was a favorite, and frequent, topic of conversation for Manis; and neither Vala nor Naar was surprised once they had all settled under the canopy as the Khajiit brothers began handing out excellent flatbread and smoked meat when Manis went on at length about how he had brewed this particular batch, which he was sharing in abundance, and the quantity of which was much lower when the three members of the Silver Hand took their leave of their new friends and continued their journey towards Whiterun.
"Did they like it do you think?" Manis asked.
"They drank enough of it," Vala replied, the lightheadedness of her recent imbibement not having yet faded.
"Vala and Manis also drank two bottles each," Naar added, "it is not so much for Manis, who is twice Vala's size. This one was convinced that Vala must be tied to her saddle to avoid falling off."
Manis was not known for a ready laugh, but he displayed none of his usual reticence, as the entire hold of Whiterun could surely hear.
"Ha ha ha ha! Come Naar, we will ride side by side with her, you on her left, me on her right. She will be completely safe."
Naar's toothy smile was on full display.
"Naar hears his charge, and will obey."
"Gods' blood, we are lucky that stealth is not called for," Vala said before stopping her horse and stepping down.
"What are you doing?" Manis asked as Vala walked towards a small stand of trees that stood a short distance from the road.
"Relieving myself of some of your excellent beer," Vala said before disappearing behind the trees.
It had been quite some time since Vala had entered the gate that separated Whiterun proper from Whiterun hold. Manis had never passed through the large, formidable gate that the pair approached now. But the number of guards stationed at that gate caused them to stop in their tracks.
"That is twice the number of men that should be on duty," Vala said quietly.
"Perhaps they are about to change watches," Manis suggested.
The final hour of their journey had been in darkness, the sun having set, but neither moon having deigned to show it's face.
"It is too late for a changing of the guard. This is something else," Vala said as her mind weighed the possibility that she and Manis might be the reason for the extra guards.
"We need to move, we draw too much attention to ourselves," Manis said as two of the guard that had been watching the pair of travelers approached.
Gods, Vala thought to herself.
"You lost?" the larger of the two asked.
Vala knew his type, and she would have bet a handful of gold that she also knew his rank, so she took a wider stance, removed her cloak with a flourish and handed it to Manis, and adopted a tone of voice that she had not used in years, but had not forgotten in any sense.
"Is Whiterun under attack, sergeant? Should we draw our weapons and turn about face and help defend your gate?"
Both the men straightened their backs as they almost came to attention.
"Forgive me Centurion, I didn't recognize you in the dark. In answer to your question, Whiterun is under attack, but not the sort you mean."
"We've had three straight nights of vampire attacks," the younger man said, "The Jarl ain't taking no chances."
The look that passed between Manis and Vala was reflexive and, as brief as it was, both men took note.
"You've seen them, haven't you?" the sergeant asked, "you've seen them, and not from a safe distance."
"We were attacked ourselves," Vala said, "some days ago. It is for that reason we travel to Whiterun, to visit the house of healing."
"Neither of us was bitten," Manis added in response to the wide eyed faces that currently stared at him and Vala, "though some were not so fortunate. Otherwise we would have traveled to Morthal."
"They can cure vampire bites in Morthal?" the sergeant asked.
"Yes. A man named Falion resides in Morthal, and knows the cure. But you must get the victim to him quickly," Vala answered.
"Must we stand on the gate road until the vampires attack?" Manis asked, "If so, I must ask that supper be brought to us. Otherwise any vampire that attacks will have my own teeth to worry about."
Vala smiled at the concept of a ravenous Manis attacking night walkers with his teeth, a large cloth napkin tied around his neck.
"I would pay real gold to see the looks on their faces were that to happen."
"Open the sally port!" the sergeant called to the gatekeeper, his own laughter flavoring his words, "two travelers to enter the city!"
"Go raibh maith agat, a chailín", Manis said to the Redguard woman after she had refilled his mug from a clay pitcher.
"Tá fáilte romhat, a ghasúir", she replied with a smile, and a backwards glance as she walked away with a sway in her hips.
"What?" he asked at Vala's smiling, though silent, gaze.
"Nothing," she answered, her smile persisting, ruined only momentarily as the cyrodilic brandy burned it's way down her throat, "I am glad at least one of us will not be lonely tonight."
"You make too much of a trifle," he answered, though his own smile persisted, and his eyes scanned the interior of the Bannered Mare until the found the woman who continued to glance in Manis' direction.
"There cannot be many Redguard that speak the language of the northern highlands, and I will wager that she does not speak it to every Breton she encounters. And she is quite beautiful."
"No denying that."
There were both silent for a moment, Manis pretending not to look for the serving maid, and Vala's thoughts going to the Thane of Whiterun, whom she had never laid eyes on, but who had been described by more than one of Vala's sisters as quite beautiful.
It was growing late, and the warmth of the Inn, the comfortable sounds of communal fellowship, and the excellent brandy worked together to extract yet another yawn from Vala. But for the local bard, who Vala did not care for, she might be in danger of falling asleep where she sat. But she seemed to be in the minority in her opinion, the others in the not overly large Inn who were not engrossed in their own conversations or dinners were boisterous as they joined him as he sang. Even the scowling Nord woman seated a short distance from their table occasionally joined in, the barest hint of a smile upon her scarred face.
Vala knew that her minority opinion of the man was mostly due to the fact that his constant singing made it more difficult for her to fantasize about the beautiful Thane, and how they two would spent their evening if he were here with her instead of Manis.
Vala also knew the cure to that problem.
"I am off to bed," she said as she stood, downed the remainder of her brandy, and collected her cloak, "Do not keep her up too late. Both of you have full days tomorrow."
Manis' eyes went to the dark skinned woman who was serving drinks to four city guardsmen seated near the front door.
"Can't make any promises."