Sanctuary

The door to the Sanctuary stood before her and whispered its challenge. Nessa shifted from one foot to the other and debated with herself. She missed Astrid and, to be honest, Arnbjorn in particular. His advice for her had haunted her the entire journey and it still did as she stood outside the door. Outside. An outsider. Even though Astrid and Arnbjorn welcomed her to their bed, she knew there were bonds between them that she would never share. Only when Astrid was gone did she feel truly close to Arnbjorn. If she walked through that door, everything would resume where it left off.

But if she didn't answer the door, turned around and walked away, as Arnbjorn had advised... what then? She couldn't go back to the thieves' guild after breaking their rules so flagrantly. Maybe she would just turn around right now and pick a random direction and walk. She had money, weapons, and armor. It would be easy this time. She'd just walk away and keep going until she found another life.

Funny it took her this entire week, and it wasn't until she was standing in front of the place that had been her home for so many months, that she finally made up her mind. She took one last look at the representation of Sithis and turned around to leave.

Somehow, while she'd been debating with herself, Shadowmere had silently slipped behind her and blocked her way. She yelped in surprise as he seemed to glare at her and snorted loudly.

"Shadowmere!" she squeaked. "How'd you do that?" She looked at the horse in amazement. Of course, the horse had some Daedric origin, she knew that. It could disappear into the tarn outside the Sanctuary, why shouldn't it be able to sneak if it wanted to? She laughed at herself for startling at the horse's prank. "All right, boy, move out of the way."

The horse snorted again and shook his head. He stepped closer to her, nudging her toward the door.

"Shadowmere, you don't want me to leave?"

The horse nickered softly and pushed her back another step.

"Well." This was interesting. Nessa considered the horse and stroked his face, enjoying the soft, silky texture of his black fur. She liked Shadowmere. Clearly he knew what she was considering and he was vetoing the idea. "Are you sure, Shadowmere?"

The horse just gave her another soft nudge and now she found herself backed up to the door. At least the horse would miss her if she left, she thought, Veezara would too, and probably Babette, maybe even Cicero. "All right, boy. I'll stay."

Shadowmere backed off a few steps and she turned to the door. "Silence, my brother." The stone door rolled open with a ponderous grinding sound. She looked back over her shoulder at Shadowmere. "Bye, horsey."

The horse snorted one last time as the door rolled shut behind her. She was home.

~o~o~o~

Astrid was fuming. Arnbjorn had tried his best to calm her down, but she wasn't in a mood to listen to him. She was convinced that one or more of the assassins was collaborating with Cicero to take over the guild… her guild! She'd heard him talking to someone in his room, accusing her of breaking the tenets.

"He's talking to himself, most likely, love." Arnbjorn tried to pacify her, but she wasn't interested.

"I'm sure I heard more than one voice, Arn! And I distinctly heard him say my name, several times in fact. He called me a… a pretender!" She flung her arms out in exasperation. "A pretender? Sithis take the little bastard. What have I been doing all these years: pretending to keep this guild alive and prosperous while all the other Sanctuaries have fallen one by one?"

"Say the word, love. I'll wring his scrawny neck." Arnbjorn hoped it wouldn't come down to that, but he would do it if he must.

At that moment they heard the Sanctuary door grind open and a few moments later Nessa rounded the corner.

"Hi, I'm back. It went well. You were right, it was easy," Nessa told them. Both of them looked grim and rather tense. What did I do? "I'm sorry. I'm interrupting. We can talk later."

"No!" Astrid reached out and pulled her by the arm into their room and shut the door behind her. "Come in, sweetling." She took Nessa's pack from her. "We'll talk now." She kissed her delicately on the temple and led her to a chair. "Sit, Nessa. Arn, get her something to drink, she looks thirsty."

"I'm fine, don't bother," Nessa demurred. "Is something wrong?"

"Tell me about your contract first, dear," Astrid said. "How did your mark die?"

"Easily. An arrow to the heart. No one saw anything," Nessa reported. "The trip was easy too. Shadowmere was—" she cast around trying to think how to explain how he had acted. Anything she said would sound crazy. "He was really nice."

Astrid put aside her agitation and smiled at Nessa. "Very good, Nessa. You've turned into quite the accomplished assassin. We are all very proud of you." She sat next to Nessa and picked up the girl's hand. "There's a little favor you could do for me."

"Of course, Astrid," Nessa said. Astrid's face got that tense look she'd noticed earlier. "Something is wrong. What is it?"

"Well, yes." Astrid sighed and squeezed Nessa's hand.

Arnbjorn paced back and forth, saying nothing, his face was inscrutable.

"I overheard Cicero plotting against me with someone in the Brotherhood. I need to know who is involved in this conspiracy. Can you—"

"Leave her out of this, Astrid," Arnbjorn growled. His wife's paranoia was growing. If something was wrong, they could handle between themselves. It wasn't fair to involve Nessa.

Nessa looked between them and saw Astrid beginning to look angry and a stubborn look settle on Arnbjorn's face. "I don't mind," she said quietly, hoping to avert further tension between them.

Astrid smiled at Nessa and squeezed her hand. "Perhaps you should hear what I want you to do first. I want you to slip into the room with the Night Mother, go inside her coffin and wait until Cicero returns. Eavesdrop on whoever he talks to and report back to me."

The notion of slipping into the Night Mother's coffin didn't appeal to Nessa, but if someone was conspiring against Astrid, she could bear it, for her sake. "Is Cicero out now?" she asked.

Astrid nodded. "He is, but he'll be back soon."

"What if he opens the coffin to… keep the Night Mother? He gets her out to oil her sometimes." Now that was gross. Oiling corpses… who does that? Sharing the coffin with a corpse was one thing, but with an oily corpse?

"I think he oiled her yesterday. He only does it once every couple of weeks."

Great. She'll be extra oily. Nessa found herself nodding even though Arnbjorn looked angry. Astrid was her guild leader, her lover; she could not deny her. "All right."

Arnbjorn growled softly. This was wrong. It felt like a trap. "I'll be standing by, bit. Shout if there's any trouble."

"Leave your belongings here, sweetling," Astrid said. "I'll have someone take them to your room." She leaned over and cupped her hands around Nessa's head, bringing their mouths together. She kissed her passionately, her sharp incisors scrapped across Nessa's bottom lip. "You are my angel," she said softly. "Now… scamper!"

The kiss drove all the doubts out of Nessa's head. She kissed the top of Astrid's hand, sprang out of her chair, pecked Arnbjorn on the cheek, and ran lightly down the hallway. She turned right and into the rooms occupied by the keeper and the Night Mother. She tried to yank open the coffin, but it was locked.

"Shit!" she hissed quietly. She got out her lock picks and set to work opening it. Fortunately the lock was a simple one and she had it sprung quickly. She opened the doors and got in without really looking at the Night Mother's corpse. It would only make the task worse if she looked at her. She pulled the doors closed around her and waited in the pitch black confines of the sarcophagus.

Only a few minutes later she heard Cicero humming and his quiet footsteps. Then he began to speak softly.

"Are we alone? Yes… yes… alone." He giggled as he spoke. "Sweet solitude. No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan."

Nessa strained, but couldn't hear anyone else. Was this more of Cicero's ravings or was he actually talking to someone?

"The others… I've spoken to them. And they're coming around, I know it. The wizard, Festus Krex… perhaps even the Argonian, and the un-child. The cherub… well, she's blinded by that harlot's spell."

"What about you? Have you… have you spoken to anyone? No… no, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and saying!" His voice grew louder, angrier. "And what do you do? Nothing!" he shouted. "No!" He paused a moment. "Not… not that I'm angry."

He sounded angry to Nessa, but his voice was winding down.

"No, never! Cicero understands." He chuckled quietly, sadly. "Cicero always understands, and obeys."

Now there was a hint of bitterness to his voice. He sounded like a rejected suitor.

"You will talk when you're ready, won't you? Won't you… sweet Night Mother?"

Then it became clear to Nessa that Cicero wasn't talking to someone, more like a something. He was talking to the corpse she was sharing quarters with. She was flooded with relief that Cicero wasn't plotting anything. He was most likely just trying to get people to accept the five tenets. She could go back to Astrid and soothe things over. She would…

Unexpectedly, lassitude overtook Nessa's limbs. She slumped against the corpse, unable to hold herself away from it. Suddenly she found herself in a landscape painted in shades of gray and black, with pinpoints of light here, and there, like fireflies. She staggered and caught herself against a tree trunk before she fell.

"What… what is this place?" she asked, looking at the dim beauty around her.

"This is my corner of the Void, my daughter," a feminine voice floated to her ears. "Welcome."

Nessa turned around and saw a beautiful woman sitting on a moss covered stone bench. A silken robe was tied around her shapely body. "Are you…" she stuttered, thinking that she was caught desecrating the Night Mother's coffin and now… she was in the Void. This must be her punishment.

"Yes, child, I am the Night Mother."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone into your coffin."

"It doesn't matter, child. You're warm next to my ancient bones. But I have brought you here to speak with you. Poor, dear Cicero will never hear me, for he is not the Listener." She smiled and patted the stone bench beside her. "Sit."

Nessa hesitated then sat down next to the woman. She could feel the chill of the stone bench through her trousers. Can the dead feel cold?

"Don't get me wrong, child, he is a dear to me, but his task is to keep my corpse. It is someone else's task to be the Listener."

"But who?" Nessa asked. "There hasn't been a Listener for quite some time I think. Most of the Sanctuaries are gone now, except ours."

"The Listener is the one who hears me, daughter."

Realization dawned slowly on Nessa. The Mother was speaking to her, therefore... She stood up abruptly, a wave of panic cresting in her chest. "Oh…no," she shook her head and backed away. "It can't be me! You've made a mistake. You must speak to Astrid. Please!"

The Night Mother smiled indulgently, but there was a tinge of irony in her expression. "The Night Mother doesn't make mistakes, my dear. You are young and inexperienced, but that will change soon." She rose and gestured expansively. "I should send you back before Cicero discovers you. He isn't likely to be happy with you."

"Shouldn't you make Cicero the Listener? He'd be a great Listener," Nessa said, still trying to bargain her way out of the job.

Arching an eyebrow at the girl, she was beginning to get irritated. "You could at least try to act like this is a great honor. Hear me, Listener, and comply. Tell Cicero the words he has waited to hear for so long. Tell him: "Darkness rises when silence dies". Then you must travel to Volunruud, and speak to Amaund Motierre. Go now, my daughter."

Nessa felt the Void fading around her and she was falling. With a sudden lurch the doors to the coffin opened and she fell out of it, collapsing to the floor with her head spinning.

"What? What treachery is this?" Cicero shrieked. "Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's coffin!" He drew a deep breath and shouted. "Explain yourself!"

Shaking her head, trying to free it of the fog that was wrapped around her brain, Nessa pushed herself up onto her hands, only to collapse again as Cicero leaped on her and wrapped his hands around her throat. "Stop…" she managed to squeak out. "I'm the Listener."

Cicero's fury kept the words from sinking in. "You… you worm! You tricked me with your friendship. Betrayer!" His fingers tightened around the girl's throat, cutting off all air.

Hungering for air, Nessa's body was flooded with strength born of desperation. She managed to roll them over and pry his hands lose with her own fingers. She drew a deep breath and considered screaming, but she was certain if she did Arnbjorn would come crashing through the door and Cicero would die. "Listen to me!" she hissed. "She spoke to me. She said…"

For a moment Cicero looked in stunned disbelief at the girl. Spoke to her? Her? A mere girl? She was barely blooded. What had she done to deserve this honor? It was impossible. It was a further betrayal. He pulled back his hand and slapped her hard. "You lie! More treachery! More trickery and deceit! Astrid put you up to this, didn't she?" He pulled his arm back to slap her again, but she blocked the blow. "The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener!" he shouted. Saliva speckled his lips with the force of his seething.

"Cicero, listen to me!" She worked one hand out from under herself and laid it on her dagger, ready to pull it free if it was needed. "She said to say, 'Darkness rises when silence dies', that it would mean something to you."

The words seemed to finally pierce Cicero's fury, although disbelief crossed his face. "She said those words… to you?" A mere girl. Night Mother, are you truly serious? "Darkness rises when silence dies?"

Nessa nodded. "I swear it, Cicero. Please… let me up. I think I'm going to be ill." The enormity of what had happened was beginning to sink in and it roiled her stomach.

He rolled off her and watched as she staggered to her feet. She rushed over to a bucket and vomited over and over again until her stomach was completely empty, even then she wretched miserably.

"Those are the words," he said slowly, his voice finally lowering. "Those are the binding words, written in the keeping tomes. The signal so I would know." Truly Mother? He shook his head sadly. "Mother's only way of talking to sweet Cicero…"

The bitterness crept back into his voice and Nessa felt sorry for him, sorry and ashamed. She didn't want this role and Cicero had longed to hear the voice of the Night Mother. "I'm sorry, Cicero. I didn't mean for it to happen." She wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand and poured some water from a pitcher into a glass and rinsed her mouth. The smell of her vomit was filling the room making her nauseous once more.

With another mercurial mood change, Cicero struck his hands together and began to dance. "Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you!" He grabbed Nessa's hands and twirled her around him. "She has chosen you! All hail the Listener!"

Cicero's manic mood swings, the smell of vomit, the disaster with the Night Mother speaking to her were too much. She pulled away from Cicero. "No!" she shouted, ran to the door, yanking it open, and rounding the corner, nearly slamming into Arnbjorn.

"What happened?" he said. He reached out to steady her, noting that half her face was red and there were red marks around her neck. If that damned clown touched her…

Nessa stopped for only a moment. Her mouth opened and shut, but no words would come out. She shook her head. Tears spilled down her face and she pulled herself away from him and ran to her room, slamming the door, and locking it.

What now? Throwing herself on the bed she gave into her grief. "I'm not the Listener. I can't be. No, no, no!" She pounded her fists against her pillow. "This isn't happening. I'm not the Listener." The denial became a litany she repeated over and over to herself until she was exhausted and fell asleep.

~o~o~o~

Arnbjorn was torn between following her and killing the clown. Nessa was safe now so he'd see about dismantling the clown piece by piece. He stepped into the Imperial's room and saw him dancing joyously. "What did you do to her, clown?" he snarled, pulling the great ax off his back, and advanced on the gamboling idiot.

"Cicero did nothing, wolfman! It was the Mother who did it. She spoke at long last. She spoke to the cherub! Imagine that, a sweet girl, a sweet nothing of a girl, chosen to be the Listener. Who would've guessed?" He twirled and clapped his hands.

Arnbjorn's gripped loosened on his ax as the words penetrated. "Listener?" He'd long ago decided the stories of the Night Mother and Sithis were tall tales, meant to frighten children and idiots. He was neither. "Nonsense."

"She spoke the binding words! The words the Night Mother tells the Listener, she told Nessa. At last, a proper Listener. A proper leader!" Cicero danced merrily around Arnbjorn, ignoring the threat of his ax.

By the gods… if it is true... Arnbjorn's heart gave a lurch in his chest. Astrid would never stand aside for someone else to run the guild. This would tear them apart at the seams, each one of them in their own way. He could slay the jester and swear Nessa to secrecy. No one ever need know but him and Nessa.

His hands refused to grip the ax properly. His mind ordered his body to action, but it refused. Some deeply buried instinct against murdering a brother, no matter how gratifying it might be, picked a very inconvenient time to assert itself. Maybe it was the gods themselves intervening.

"If I find you've lied, clown… if you've harmed Nessa… You will die. This I promise." He sheathed the great ax and turned to walk out, still pondering why he couldn't just kill the jester and be done with it.

There was nothing to do now but tell Astrid.

~o~o~o~

Nessa's door was locked and she wasn't answering when they knocked. Astrid wasn't sure whether she should be alarmed or annoyed. Oh, she was annoyed. Nessa… the Listener? It was preposterous. She was just a child and all this nonsense about Listeners, Speakers, and Keepers was some left over antiquity. Why would Nessa claim to be the Listener? No, that wasn't quite right, Arnbjorn was convinced from what Cicero had said, but Cicero was mad. Arnbjorn knew better, too. He'd never say such a thing unless he believed it.

Astrid paced back and forth in front of her door. "Hurry up!" she snapped at Arnbjorn who was trying to pick the lock. She was concerned for the girl too, of course. She'd been very upset, her husband said. If she truly believed that the Night Mother had spoken to her… what if she had harmed herself? She certainly had enough poison brewed, or sleeping draught, to do away with herself.

The lock pick snapped off in the lock and Arnbjorn hit the door in frustration. "Call Festus to blow the damn thing off its hinges!"

Taking a deep breath, she laid a soothing hand on her husband's head. "It's all right, Arn. Just try again. Best we not drag more people into this." She was the guild leader; she had to keep people calm. They'd figure this out. She found she was trying as much to calm herself down as she was Arnbjorn.

He knelt in front of the door again and began to work on the lock. This time it opened with a satisfying click. They went into the dark room without lighting a candle; they could both see adequately in the limited light coming from the open door.

Astrid sat next to the girl and watched her deep, regular breathing. How'd she manage to sleep through all our noise? She could sense the slow, regular beating of her heart. There were tears still drying on her cheeks. Her annoyance evaporated when she saw Nessa like this. "Nessa?" she said softly.

Her eyes fluttered open and she furrowed her brow for a moment, unsure where she was. She'd been so deeply asleep, almost as if drugged. She remembered being upset and crying and… Oh divines! It came rushing back to her and she gasped, sitting up abruptly. "I don't want it!"

"Shush, sweetling," Astrid spoke calmly, sweetly to the girl, cradling her against her shoulder. "Now tell me, exactly what happened. Who was Cicero talking to and… what happened?"

"He was just talking to the Night Mother. Saying… stuff. You know how he is. Then… I seemed to go somewhere else. A dark but beautiful place and she was there." Her voice trailed off, remembering how beautiful the Night Mother looked and the serenity of the twilight landscape.

"Go on," Astrid urged her. She stroked a hand down her arm to reassure the girl.

"She spoke to me. She said I was the Listener. I tried to tell her she was wrong, but she got a little angry about that. Then she told me what to say to Cicero so he would understand and she told me to go to Volunruud and speak to Amaund Motierre." Unable to hold the tears back, they began to roll down her face again. "I'm sorry, Astrid. I don't want it. I would undo it if I could."

Astrid cast a look at Arnbjorn, her brows drawing together in concern and disbelief. She patted the girl's shoulder and let her go. Pacing the room she said, "The Night Mother, from everything we know, only speaks to the person chosen as the Listener and she spoke to you." She paused in her pacing and turned to the girl, her voice losing some of its softness. "To you?"

Nessa nodded sadly. She noticed Arnbjorn looking at her. He was silent, but there was a compassionate look on his face.

"By Sithis!" Astrid swore. She would have believed it was a power play if anyone else had made this claim, but Nessa? This girl was the last person Astrid would imagine to be hungry for power or control. Had the Night Mother really spoken to her, or had she been dreaming? Maybe there was another explanation. It would be simple enough to verify. They could go to inquire into this person she'd been told to find… Amaund Motierre; if he existed, then it was true.

"I know where Volunruud is," Astrid said.

"Do you want me to go find this man?" Nessa asked. Astrid's face had closed off. She didn't know what she was thinking any longer.

"No." The question nettled Astrid. Arranging contracts was her job, already Nessa was trying to take over just because she thought the Night Mother had spoken to her. "No! Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but you take your orders from me. Are we clear on that?"

The words stung Nessa. She flinched at the rising anger in Astrid's voice.

"The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this family. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed." Astrid turned away from Nessa and walked to the door. She paused and turned. "I… I need time to think about all this. Go see Nazir in the morning. Do some work for him. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss the matter further." Astrid turned and walked out the door, her arms crossed.

Arnbjorn shook his head sadly. He lingered behind until his wife was out of hearing range. "I'm sorry, bit. Give her some time. We'll work this out, all right?" He crossed the room to her and lightly traced his hand down the red mark on the side of her face. I should have killed the clown. He turned, his heart feeling heavier than it had in a long time, and followed his wife.

~o~o~o~

Notes: Thanks for reading. I always enjoy reading your comments, so if you have a second, please review!

My thanks to: ScarletNyx, Eniverante, Biff McLaughlin, xJanelex, TheOtherLachance, zevgirl, Hadrian Le Fey, cromar21, KK Jace, Heiwako, Steffiii07 for the review! Always enjoy the feedback.

I have three gift-stories to write before xmas, not counting this one. So there may be a bit of a break before I am back on this. Heiwako wrote a lovely gift-story for me: It is Chapter 4 in "Taking Care of Business". It is about my favorite Skyrim pairing: Maven and Mercer. They were made for one another, don't you think?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!