Chapter Summary: Miranja and Erik spend the day helping whoever they can in Windhelm.

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It was late morning when they reached Windhelm, having spent a very pleasant night in the warm, humid shelter of Eldergleam Sanctuary. Miranja had been overwhelmed by the natural beauty of the place, but not so much as Erik, who could only utter "By the Nine!" as he gaped around wide-eyed and open-mouthed, imprinting it firmly in his memory for posterity.

They checked in at the Candlehearth, bathed and changed, and then Miranja took Erik straight to the Grey Quarter to meet the friends who were still around in the middle of the day, namely Revyn, Ambarys, and Malthyr. She watched his reaction to the crumbling steps and the tattered, flapping banners that still managed to convey a weak but determined sort of festivity with what was left of their warm sunset hues. He seemed to be interested but not repulsed, just taking everything in, perhaps because the rest of the city was also rather old and worn, or perhaps because he didn't know enough yet to pass judgment.

Wonder what he'll think of the insides, Miranja thought, holes in the floor, rotting wood, must and mildew… "Mind your step inside the buildings," she warned him. "There are a few holes in the floors."

The New Gnisis was first, and Miranja excitedly got Erik his first taste of sujamma, which he found to be at least on par with, if not better than, mead. Ambarys watched him with a wry smile, mildly amused at having a young Nord in his tavern who didn't seem to know enough about the world to know that he was supposed to be prejudiced toward Dunmer. He gave Miranja her first drink on the house, just because she flirted with him and this was one of his ways of flirting back. Another thing they liked to do was to stroke each other's hands every time they came close: exchanging food, drink, money. Miranja let Erik and Ambarys get acquainted, smiling as Erik told Ambarys about their adventures so far.

Ambarys had just given Erik a second round of sujamma, warning him that he shouldn't have any more after that because he wasn't used to it and it tends to sneak up on a body, when Miranja grabbed his wrist.

"Ambarys, could I speak to you alone for a moment?"

He directed a questioning look at her and saw the smoldering look in her eyes, rather incongruous with her playful smirk. He was already semi-hard just from their subtle touching, but the feeling of her slender fingers firmly grasping his arm, even through his sleeve, made him twitch down below. Catching Malthyr's eye, he called, "Keep an eye on the place for a minute, would you, Malthyr? Miss Miranja and I need to have a talk."

Malthyr agreed and watched them with a knowing smirk as they entered the stairwell. "So," he said, engaging Erik in small talk, "you like our sujamma, do you?"

"Yes, sir," Erik replied, "very much."

In the privacy of the stairwell, Miranja took both of Ambarys's sweaty hands into hers. She spoke to him in a low voice, aware of the close quarters and the relative quietness of the tavern. "Maybe it's the sujamma talking, and I hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable, Ambarys, but just touching your hands is making me painfully horny today. I want to kiss you, and touch more of you." She was nearly begging, like a hungry waif asking for a scrap of food.

Ambarys glanced at the doorway and checked the cracks in the wall to make sure neither Erik nor Malthyr was spying, then he wordlessly pulled Miranja closer, losing himself for a moment in her watery green eyes before closing his own eyes, leaning in, and kissing her. He'd longed to taste those lips from the first time she'd come in and flirted with him.

Miranja pressed closer, letting go of his hands and encircling his waist. Ambarys did the same, and they both slid their hands downward and grasped each other's buttocks, pulling their hips against each other and grinding firmly. She stifled a groan as Ambarys broke the kiss and moved in further to bite her earlobe, then she turned her face into his neck and bit him back, licking his flesh at the same time.

"I need to get you into bed soon," Miranja whispered, raising gooseflesh on his neck and arms.

"Milady, I would be all too honored to welcome you into my bed, but I'd have to find something to keep Malthyr busy, and you'd need to be alone."

"That can be arranged," Miranja replied, pulling back to smile saucily at him. "Kiss me one more time." She tipped her face up to him, and this time he delved into her mouth and tasted her sujamma-drenched tongue. She ran her hands up his back, the moved around to the front of him. She stroked the bare skin of his neck, glided over his wheat brown hair drawn smoothly up into the traditional mer ponytail. She stroked his ears, caressed his shoulders, moved down his arms, to take his hands once again at the small of her back.

"I should let you get back to work," Miranja sighed.

"Eh, I'm sure Malthyr's already suspicious, anyway," Ambarys replied.

"If you need to tell him anything to get him otherwise occupied one of these days, I don't mind if he knows."

Ambarys nodded. "IF I have to tell him anything, he will be sworn to silence under penalty of unemployment," Ambarys grinned.

They returned to the taproom and Ambarys kept his hand on her rear all the way to the stairwell door, then gave her a quick saucy squeeze before the parted ways at the end of the bar. Malthyr's back was to them as he swept, and Erik was turned toward him, telling him about the ale that Jouane Manette brewed every fall in Rorikstead.

"Could I get one more for the road, please, Ambarys?" Miranja asked as she returned to her barstool.

"Look, I'm not just trying to make more coin offa you, friends, but it's close enough to lunchtime that I think you should 'ave a bite before you go so that sujamma doesn't 'it you 'arder than normal."

Miranja glanced at Erik, who seemed normal – so far – other than a slight swaying in his seat. "Okay," she agreed. "I don't suppose you have anything traditionally Dunmer...?"

"These days I'm lucky to have Dunmer booze," Ambarys groused. "the Northern Maiden brings a few bottles of mazte and sujamma back from Solstheim, and sometimes a few ash yams. The best I have to offer is some horker and ash yam stew."

"That would be great, actually! I've never been to Solstheim, and never had either horker or ash yam. I'm quite sure Erik hasn't, either."

She looked at Erik once again, who had turned back to the bar and tuned in to the conversation.

"I'll try anything once," he agreed amiably.

Ambarys nodded at them, then at Malthyr, who went to the kitchen to retrieve their lunch.

As they ate, Ambarys informed them that this stew was probably one of the least "exotic" foods of Solstheim and Morrowind. "A lot of plants in Morrowind are the same or similar to Skyrim – gods, I miss saltrice, though. Wonder if they've gotten it to grow on Solstheim yet…" He paused, evidently reminiscing, then realized that his guests were looking at him expectantly.

"Anyway, the animals in Morrowind were mostly like insects or lizards, and there were things like guar and kagouti and cliff racers with tough hides. O' course, Saint Jiub did away with all the cliff racers a couple centuries ago, Azura bless 'im. No one knows what became of 'im after the Oblivion Crisis. Revyn, Belyn, and I are the only ones in Windhelm old enough to remember cliff racers. Even Revyn's sister is fifty years younger than 'im and doesn't remember. She was a child when Revyn brought her over after the eruption. You can still get food native to Morrowind but it's in limited supply and too expensive for this poor club owner. As you can see, I can't even afford to fix the holes in the walls and floors."

"I'm going to change that for you someday, Ambarys. I want to help make the Grey Quarter a nicer place to live. Maybe even nicer than Valunstrad."

"Pardon me if I don't 'old me breath, milady," Ambarys replied dejectedly. "Nobody's that rich, 'cept maybe the Emperor 'imself."

"Well, I want to do what I can, regardless. Wait and see."

Ambarys patted her hand and squeezed it. "You have a big and caring heart, luv. Just you coming around now and then makes the Grey Quarter a better place to live."

"That's good to hear," Miranja replied. She flipped her hand over beneath Ambarys's so she could squeeze his hand back.

After lunch, they went to visit Revyn. Business was slow enough that he was able to give her another speechcraft lesson, and they were only interrupted once. Miranja asked him about Solstheim.

"What can you tell me about Solstheim? The cultists who keep trying to kill me seem to have come from there."

Revyn was aghast. "Someone's trying to kill you? Oh, that's quite unacceptable. Why would anyone want to kill a charming, lovely young woman like you?"

Miranja smiled at the compliment, but it didn't reach her sad, frustrated eyes. "Believe it or not, Revyn, there's at least one mystery person, in addition to these cultists, who wants me dead. The Dark Brotherhood has attacked me more than once, and I don't know if they have one contract or many against me. I don't know why that person – or those people – want me dead, but the cultists believe I'm a false Dragonborn, an imposter. They have orders from someone named Miraak to get rid of me."

Revyn's face was as pale as a Dunmer's face could be. "W-well," he stammered, "I couldn't tell you about the Dark Brotherhood or this Miraak person, but I've been to Solstheim once, when Idesa and I tried to take the northerly escape route from Vvardenfell during the Red Year. The only person I know there is the barkeep in Raven Rock. He's a third cousin of ours, or something like that. We discovered that when we stopped in for a meal and we realized our names were the same.

"Anyway, Raven Rock is the only place on Solstheim I know anything about. It's House Redoran territory, on the southwest side of the island. They're constantly clearing away ash from the ash storms that still come from Red Mountain. It used to be a mining town, or so it was when I went there. It had only been settled by Dunmer for a few years when Red Mountain erupted. My cousin had gone there with Brara Morvayn and a small settlement expedition at the turn of the era, but that Councilor Morvayn died and her son runs the place now. I hear the mine dried up about twenty years ago and our people over there have had an even more difficult time of it since then. The Empire pulled out of there almost two hundred years ago. I hear there's a small Telvanni settlement in the ashlands, and a small Nord village on the opposite side of the island from Raven Rock, up on the northern, snowy end. That's about all I know."

"Well, that's more than I knew, so thank you for the information. It's been wonderful visiting with you, Revyn, but I have more errands to run. Thank you for having me."

"The pleasure was all mine," Revyn replied with a soft smile. He allowed Miranja to hug him briefly, but was self-conscious in front of Erik, so he gently pushed her away after a couple of seconds.

Next stop was the docks, to check in on Shahvee and Scouts-Many-Marshes. On the way down the long flight of stairs, which Miranja couldn't resist jumping down to see how many stairs she could skip and feel the sensation of being airborne, she told Erik that the two Argonians were some of the sweetest people she knew. But when she came across Scouts hauling an armload of firewood, she was shocked to find him uncharacteristically sullen.

"Torbjorn Shatter-Shield says an Argonian's labor is only worth a tenth of a 'proper Nord worker.' My people are not slaves!"

Miranja fumed. "Is that so?" she huffed. "We'll just see about that. I'll go talk to him right now."

"You can try, but we've gotten nowhere talking to him ourselves."

"Well, I've done a few things for him in the past, and he seems to consider me a friend, so I'm hoping a word from me will help. I'll even pull the Dragonborn card if I have to."

She found Torbjorn at home, comforting his wife near the fireplace. She apologized for interrupting and pleaded her Argonian friends' case as tactfully as she could. Perhaps Revyn's most recent lesson had a part in her success – she would never know, but she was able to convince Torbjorn to double the Argonians' pay, and she couldn't wait to go back and tell Scouts the good news.

But first, since they were near the Stone Quarter, Miranja wanted to stop at the White Phial and give the White Phial to Nurelion. She knew he was going to be upset that it was cracked, but there was nothing she could do about it. She entered the shop, inhaling the pungent yet pleasant scent of a myriad alchemy ingredients mingling in the air. A part of her mind returned to her childhood, her mother's and grandmother's alchemy labs, occasional visits to the alchemical shop for supplies they couldn't grow or find near home.

"Did you find it?" Quintus asked in a whisper from behind the counter, glancing up at the holey floor above, where Nurelion was resting.

Miranja nodded, a pained expression on her face. She set her pack on the table and dug out the Phial, wrapped in a plain sheet of linen. She showed it to Quintus, who looked up at her with a grim set to his features. "Did you break it?" he asked quietly.

"Not on your life. I swear by the Nine it was like this when I found it."

"Want me to take it to him?"

"It's okay. I can face him."

Nurelion sat disconsolately before his fireplace and turned a sour look on Miranja as she approached.

"I found the Phial, Master Nurelion," she told him quietly, her tone and expression both mixtures of triumph and remorse.

"It's about time," he barked, quickly descending into a fit of coughing.

Miranja waited patiently with the wrapped Phial in her hands, and when he could breathe freely again, he took it from her. "It's broken? It's broken! I can't know if this is the Phial of lore if it can't hold liquid? How did you manage to break it, you inept…? I knew I should have gone to find it myself."

"I promise you I've been nothing but careful with it. It was that way when I found it."

He glared at her suspiciously, but the honesty in her eyes was plain. "No, I suppose that you wouldn't have the knowledge to damage the Phial, even if you wanted to. Well then, this is the end of it." His tone turned despondent. "If you'll excuse me, I'm not quite in the mood to entertain guests." He rose from his chair and started shuffling toward his bed, coughing again. Miranja stayed close to him, ready to reach out and steady him if he faltered.

"I trust you can show yourself out," he commented, his voice weak and whistling in his throat. He stuffed a hand into his pocket and withdrew some coins. "Here's for your trouble."

Miranja made sure he was comfortable before leaving him, and waited until she was out of his view before looking at the five coins in her hand. She was surprised to find Quintus and Erik eavesdropping at the bottom of the staircase. Quintus gestured her down to the storefront, and once she was there, he turned to her with an apologetic air.

"I know my master can be a bit harsh, but I'm sure he's thankful for your help. I'm thankful for your help. Please take this." He extended a large, fat coin purse before her. "That's 500 gold," he whispered. "Now, if you'll please excuse me, I'm going to see to it that Master Nurelion's last days are comfortable. Safe travels, dear friend."

Miranja hugged Quintus tightly for a long moment. "Please let me know if there's anything else I can do. I mean that. And if his condition changes. I would like to try to be present for his funeral when the time comes."

Quintus nodded, following his guests to the door, and closing it behind them as they exited.

Miranja was somber as they took the way back through the cemetery toward the docks. Before Erik could speak to her, a passing guard commented about the Aretino boy. Miranja's mood shifted visibly, and a determined look came into her eyes.

"I've been hearing about this kid since the day I came to Skyrim. It's odd that after months, no one's done anything to help this kid. We're about to go right by his house. Maybe I'll check in on him."

Although Erik had claimed to be open-minded, he obviously retained some of that Nord superstition. He tried to protest, but Miranja had made up her mind. "You don't have to go in with me if you don't want to," she told him.

"I'm not letting you go into a potentially dangerous situation by yourself, Miss Miranja. I'll do what you're paying me for. I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

She had to pick the lock to get into the house, and as soon as she opened the door, their nostrils were assailed by the smell of decomposing flesh. But it wasn't the boy; they could hear his frustrated chanting and cursing from where they stood. Miranja gagged and turned away toward the outside, sucking in a deep breath of fresh, cold air.

"Die, Grelod! Die!" Miranja nearly jumped out of her skin at the shout, and she took another deep breath and held it before hurrying up the stairs.

"I'm… so tired…" the boy whimpered to himself. "How long do I have to pray?"

It was quite chilly in the house, and Miranja dared not wonder how bad it would smell if it had been warm. Surely the jarl's people would have tended to the boy's mother's body after she died, right? What was this nauseating smell?

"Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear." The bloodchilling prayer was accompanied by repeated thunking sounds, and when the pair finally reached the room where Aventus was performing his ritual, Miranja was stunned. Here was the source of the rotting smell: decaying human body parts. It was warmer in this room because of the circle of candles, and the scent of the hot wax did nothing to detract from the stench. The thunk was the sound of Aventus wearily stabbing the disintegrating flesh, the tip of his blade catching slightly in the floorboards with each blow. Aventus was tearfully complaining to himself now about how tired he was, asking why the Night Mother wasn't answering him. Miranja nearly wept at the thought of some stranger doing this ritual with the intention of having her life snuffed. To see this child performing the ritual, and for so long, and enduring the smell… what sort of horror must he have endured at that orphanage? Where and how did he get the body parts? This was serious, gruesome business.

"By the Nine…" Miranja murmured in horror. Behind her, she could hear Erik vomiting into – well, hopefully into something. When she tried to take another breath, the smell was so bad that she gagged again, but the boy was on his feet as soon as he heard her voice, jumping for joy as if he hadn't just been on the verge of collapse a moment ago.

"Are you okay?" Miranja choked out, trying to take shallow breaths.

"You came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood! I did the Black Sacrament with the body and the… the things. I prayed and prayed, and the Night Mother finally answered me!"

"Oh, no, no, no, I'm not who you think I am, young man."

"Of course you are! I prayed, and you came, and now you'll accept my contract."

Aventus told her about his mother's illness and death, and how he was sent to the orphanage in Riften, and how cruel Grelod had been. Miranja agreed that someone who could be so inhumane to children who had already lost their parents and had no one to love and care for them deserved a terrible punishment, but she was not an assassin and wasn't sure that she could kill someone who wasn't actively threatening her life. But Aventus wouldn't take no for an answer, so she agreed.

"Please hurry," he begged. "It's lonely here, and even though I hated Grelod, I really miss my friends there."

Before she left, she had Erik open some windows and helped Aventus fill a burlap produce bag with the grisly items from his ritual. She found Aventus's mother's cleaning supplies and cleaned up the blood stains from the floor. Reminding the boy to close the windows again in half an hour or so, she took the bag with her and put it in a large trash receptacle down at the docks, where it and all the other trash would be taken by ship to be dumped far out in the Sea of Ghosts. Erik took the whole bucket, keeping it upright even when he added it to the trash bin, knowing the cold weather would freeze it solid. They were both relieved to have that experience behind them.

Before Miranja could start looking for Scouts, he was hurrying over to her. "How did it go?"

Miranja shook off the last of her revulsion at her gruesome garbage delivery and smiled at Scouts, rather pleased with herself. "I convinced him to pay you twice as much as your current wages."

Scouts was elated and repaid her kindness with some potions. He started to hug her, but was stopped by the sight of her amulet.

"Is that Lady Mara's amulet? I'm shocked a fine person like you isn't already married."

"Oh, Scouts, sweetheart, I didn't know you were interested in me that way."

"You have a kind heart. I'd be honored to walk by your side until the trees themselves fade away, if you would have me."

Miranja pulled him in for the hug he had postponed. "Scouts, you are a dear friend and I'm very fond of you, but I'm still exploring my options at this point. That was the most beautiful thing anyone's ever said to me, and I feel terrible for telling you this, but I have to decline. At least for now." She kissed his cold, scaly cheek in apology.

"Very well," Scouts said. His tone was disappointed but not angry or accusing. "I am poorer for it."

Miranja pulled back and smiled consolingly at him, kneading his tight shoulders for a few moments before letting go of him. "You're a great guy, Scouts. I'm glad to count you among my friends."

"And I you," he replied.

"I'll see you next time we're in town. Take care and enjoy your higher wages!"

They made a quick stop at the end of the dock to see Shahvee, who was labeling barrels and crates for shipment. Miranja gave her the good news about the raise, and they exchanged a hug before Miranja and Erik headed back into the city.

Miranja's mind had been subtly working on ways to improve conditions for her Dunmer and Argonian friends the whole time they'd been running errands around Windhelm. A large part of it had to do with trying to get Ulfric to listen to her. She was willing to pitch in her own money, even her own sweat and blood if there was something she could physically do to help. She simply didn't feel that her intelligence and reasonability were enough. She knew she may be getting a little overconfident about her attractiveness and her abilities in the bedroom, but she thought it was at least worth a shot to try to seduce the surly jarl to soften him, and then see what headway she could make with him from there.

"Erik, I have one more errand I want to run today, but it's a personal one. Do you think you'd be okay hanging out at the inn for maybe an hour while I do this? By the time I get back, it should be close to suppertime, and we can head over to the New Gnisis and you can meet some more of the hardworking Dunmer folks I know."

"What's there to do at the inn?"

"Well, there's a pretty young Dunmer bard who sings and plays, and there are a few regulars who might be willing to play cards or something. You don't have to stay there if you don't want to. You could go shopping or something, whatever you want. Just meet me back at the inn in about an hour."

"Okay," Erik agreed. "I suppose staying at the inn is better than wandering around by myself, freezing."

"This coming from a Nord?"

"I grew up in a little more temperate climate that this. Cut me some slack." Erik blushed slightly as he spoke.

"Okay, hon. But can I tell you something?"

"What?"

"You're sooo adorable when you blush."