"Should we stop in Falkreath, Shadowmere?"
They were nearly back to the Sanctuary when Nessa thought about the shopkeeper and the possibility that Brynjolf might have sent a message to her. It was foolishness. She never should've mentioned it to him. It had been a moment of weakness, before she'd made the decision to sneak away in the night and leave her childish illusions behind. Even now her cheeks burned as she thought of the emotionally overwrought letter she'd left for him.
Tell yourself I was a dream.
"Gods! What was I thinking, Mere? Probably dozens of women that have thrown themselves at Brynjolf, and I'm the only one stupid enough to imagine it meant something more to him than a night of lust."
Shadowmere nodded, jiggling his bit noisily.
Well, that was silly coincidence, she thought. How would a horse know? Still, Shadowmere had tried to bite Brynjolf in the first display of hostility she'd ever seen him make. Maybe the horse could see into the hearts of men and he was just trying to protect her. It gave her something to think about other than trying to match the exact shade of green in Brynjolf's eyes to moss on the rocks, or the mid-summer heath.
A fox dashed onto the road ahead of her pursued, of all things, by a crow. The crow dove down and clutched double claws full of red fur and took off again. Yelping in pain, the fox ran ahead of Shadowmere, then finally peeled off the road, climbed a boulder to sit in the sun, and watch her pass. His hair gleamed in the afternoon sun, burnished copper, almost the same shade as Byrnjolf's. That was enough to send her mind spinning back to that day, and night, at the inn. Surely she hadn't been imagining the reverence with which he'd traced her legs, from her ankles to her thighs, or the tenderness of his kisses, and the way he'd said her name—"Ness". No one else had ever called her that. It was his name for her and it made her feel older, more like a woman than a girl.
"I'm getting addled," she muttered. "He leaves off the last letter of my name and I get worked up over that?"
Shadowmere snorted in a way that Nessa thought was his way of making a sarcastic remark.
Brynjolf had been in her dreams of late. The Night Mother still pulled her to the tranquil garden, as she called it, but sometimes it would fade away to be replaced by a dimmer place where shadows were deeper, warm and comforting. Sometimes he would be there waiting for her, his arms gathering her in, his warm breath at her ear, and her name on his lips: "Ness".
That was such an odd dreamscape. She feared the light in that place and relished the murky shadows. Sometimes, when Brynjolf wasn't there, she dreamed that she was exploring the place. The only other signs of life were the crows. Sometimes they flew over in flocks large enough to block the feeble moonlight. Other times they would perch singly, or in small groups, cocking their ebon heads at her, and watching her move from shadow to shadow. It was an odd dream and it seemed to come with regularity lately.
She twisted around and watched the fox until they rounded a corner and he was out of sight. Yes, that was definitely the color of Brynjolf's hair.
They reached Falkreath that evening. Nessa debated with herself one last time, but decided she would go to the general store and check for a message. Of course there wouldn't be one and she would be disappointed, but then she could begin to forget about him. So just this once, she'd indulge herself and be prepared to feel like a foolish child.
"Well, let's get this over with, Shadowmere." She pulled his reins to guide him toward the village, but he ignored the command.
"Shadowmere!" She pulled harder this time and he finally turned toward the village but not without making a sarcastic snort. Whatever had gotten into the horse?
Dismounting outside of town, she left him under cover of the trees, going the rest of the way on foot. She made it to Gray Pine Goods just before Solaf left for the night.
"What can I do for you, lass? I was just about to get my supper," the shopkeeper said.
Feeling her face flush for no reason, she tried to ready herself for disappointment. "I was wondering if you might have a received a letter for me?"
He stared at her blankly for a moment, then his face lit up as he remembered her name. "Nessa, right?" He pulled a wooden box out from behind the counter and thumbed through the messages stacked within. "I did, indeed. Nearly a week ago."
"Oh, gods…" she said before she could stop herself. This was a possibility she hadn't allowed herself to dwell on. She held out her hand and noticed it was shaking ever so slightly has he passed it to her.
"Not bad news, I hope," Solaf said.
"I… No. Well, hopefully not. Just… unexpected." She turned and left the shop, staring at the sealed message, and examining the mark carved into the waxen seal. It looked like a shadowmark, the secret symbols used by the thieves' guild, but it wasn't one she knew. Perhaps it was his symbol?
She was afraid to open it. It would be a polite letter, of course, letting her down gently, telling her that what had happened had been a mistake. He'd be a gentleman and say that any man would be fortunate to have her, or some such nicety, but she would know that he was excluding himself from that statement.
By the time she reached Shadowmere, she decided she wouldn't read it until she was in her room alone. She didn't want anyone else to see her reaction, not even the horse. She tucked it into her pack and tried not to dwell on it.
~o~o~o~
"The Listener leads the guild. Been that way since the second era. If the girl is the Listener, then she's our leader. Couldn't be simpler than that," Festus said, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring Babette.
Babette shrugged noncommittally. "I might have given my life for the Unholy Matron once, but I follow Astrid now. Nothing against Nessa, but I don't think she's ready to lead the guild."
"Apparently the Night Mother felt otherwise," Festus drawled sourly.
"What do you think, Veezara?" Babette asked the Argonian.
Astrid lurked outside the room, overhearing the debate within the guild. This was what it finally came down to: who would betray her, and who would stand with her?
"I don't know. Babette is right, but so is Festus. I don't think Nessa is ready to lead, but the Night Mother has spoken to her," he replied, his voice as calm as always, but holding a note of bemusement that was unusual. "Yet, I can't believe the Night Mother would be mistaken."
Sick to death of overhearing these conversations and pretending like this controversy didn't exist, Astrid sighed and rounded the corner, surprising them in the midst of their gossiping.
"Your devotion to a long dead corpse is commendable, Festus, but I am the leader and will continue to be so." She looked pointedly at each person present. "If you're unhappy with that fact, then perhaps it is time to consider retirement. You have served this guild for many years and deserve a rest. That goes for any of you."
"Retirement! I'll retire when I can't burn my targets to ash, or one of them gets me first." He spat on the floor and glared at Astrid. "I think the one who should be considering retirement is you, frankly. It is time to return to the Tenets."
"I won't have an old man, a mere girl, or Sithis's whore telling me how to run my guild!" Her face twisted with all the fury she had been keeping bottled up all this time.
"Sithis's whore?" The jester's voice screeched from the same hallway she'd been lurking a few moments prior. He entered into the common room, his face twisted in his own fury. "The pretend leader dares to call the Night Mother a whore? This… this pretender who leads our sacred Brotherhood away from the Five Tenets… She is the whore here!" He pointed his finger at Astrid, shaking with fury.
Astrid turned away from Cicero, feigning indifference. Her expression switched from fury to contempt. "Oh, go back to buggering your girlfriend's oily corpse."
There was an audible gasp as she said that. Everyone knew that Cicero's utter devotion to the Night Mother wouldn't let a comment like that to stand. Veezara reacted without thought, the instincts of an assassin serving him well. He rushed between Astrid and Cicero and blocked the jester's vicious lunge. Unfortunately the Argonian hadn't had time to draw his own weapon and barely deflected the blow away from Astrid, using his forearm to do it. He took a shallow gash from that, but Cicero had a dagger in the other hand and this one drove into Veezara's thigh.
Astrid cried out in warning and that drew Gabriella and Nazir from the backrooms, and she could hear Arnbjorn's answering roar coming from the dining area. By the time Arnbjorn made it to the common room, Cicero was already fleeing for the black door.
He stopped to check on her, hugging her tightly, and inspecting her for wounds.
"I'm fine. I'm fine. It's Veezara that is hurt."
Gabriella and Babette were already crouching down next to the Argonian and peeling away his ruined armor to get to the wounds.
"We're going to need healing potions," Gabriella said. "And bandages. He's bleeding badly."
Festus and Babette hurried away to get what was needed while the Dunmer assassin began to heal him.
"I'm going after him," Arnbjorn snarled. "I should have done this long ago."
Astrid worried for her husband. He was probably more than a match for the jester, but he'd been a good assassin before he was the Keeper. At best Cicero was unpredictable, at worst… She shook her head admitting to herself she didn't know. That infuriated her even more. He was a variable she couldn't control or predict. A part of her wanted to keep Arnbjorn from going, but she was the leader of the guild first and foremost. Eliminating Cicero once and for all, and restoring the guild to its status quo, was something that simply had to be done.
"I think it is for the best, love." She hugged him tightly and kissed him. "Do be careful. I'll get everyone here calmed down. I'll send help as soon as I can."
Arnbjorn looked at her one last time, reluctant to let her go, but then he turned to the long hallway leading out, and ran up the passage and out the door.
~o~o~o~
Nessa and Shadowmere ended their journey as the moon, Masser, was rising to fullness in the sky. The shadows were only held back by its dim, bloody glow. There was nothing new about this, Masser often appeared in the sky before pale Secunda, but tonight it felt like an omen. These weren't the comforting shadows she dreamed of, these shadows held menace. She bid farewell to Shadowmere and, forgetting the unopened message, she whispered the passphrase to the black door.
The door rolled back and before she got barely into the entrance she could hear the raised voices and excitement below. She jogged quickly down the stairs and emerged into the common room.
Astrid was doing her best to calm the feathers she'd ruffled earlier and Gabriella was hovering over Veezara anxiously.
"Veezara!" Nessa said and rushed over to him. "You're hurt."
Astrid rushed over and tapped Nessa on the shoulder. "It's all right. Gabriella has him stabilized."
"What's going on?"
"This never should have happened! We knew better. We knew better, and still we let our guards down!" Astrid said, crossing her arms and gazing with concern at Veezara.
"I'll admit, even I'm having a hard time disagreeing with you," Festus said, looking at Astrid a bit sheepishly.
There was some strange dynamic at work in the Sanctuary and Nessa couldn't put her finger on it. Astrid was nervous and tense, Festus was… contrite? "What is going on?" she asked again.
"The fool went berserk! He tried to kill me. If Veezara…" she trailed off and looked at the Argonian gratefully. "If he hadn't of thrown himself between us, I might be dead now." She pounded her fist against her open hand. "I knew that lunatic couldn't be trusted."
Oh gods, Cicero. What have you done? She turned to see Astrid's lovely face, creased with concern and watching her process the news. "Cicero?" She rubbed her forehead with a finger, still disbelieving it. Oh, granted he had his moments, but he never struck her as that unstable. Well, except where the Night Mother was concerned.
"It's true, I'm afraid," Festus said. "Cicero was a little whirlwind, slashing this way and that. It would've been funny, if he weren't trying to murder us all."
Astrid grasped her arm gently and pulled her aside. "We've got to deal with this. I'm fearful for Arnbjorn. He was in a rage when he went after that miserable fool. He might blunder into a trap. Cicero might be insane, but he's clever. Worse yet, he's unpredictable."
At Arnbjorn's name Nessa tensed. She could just imagine him in the sort of rage that Astrid was describing. "What do you want me to do," she asked.
"I want you to find that miserable little fool and end his life! But first, find Arnbjorn and make sure he's all right."
Nessa nodded. "Of course. But kill Cicero? Is that necessary? What set him off?"
Shifting slightly and looking at Gabriella, Astrid answered. "Nothing. Nothing I'm aware of."
Nessa cocked her head and frowned, looking directly at Astrid, not believing her. "You're certain of that?"
"Well… if I'm being honest, I haven't been exactly discreet lately in expressing my frustration with this situation." She gestured to indicate the connection to Nessa. "Obeying the Night Mother. You being the Listener. It's… ridiculous. No offense." She stopped and looked at Nessa with almost a hint of her old tenderness. "I think you agree with me, don't you? It is all absurd."
Just to have Astrid talking to her about it was a relief. "Gods, yes, Astrid. I never wanted this."
"I know, sweetling," Astrid said soothingly. "It may be that Cicero heard me talking to the others about the Night Mother. I was not entirely… respectful."
Nessa could just imagine the sort of thing Astrid might have said. "Oh."
"But to go this far. To attempt to murder me. Cicero must pay with his life. There is no other option. You must go after him." Astrid gripped her arm harder to underscore her words.
Why me? The words nearly flew out of her mouth, but she stopped them before she could utter them. If Astrid sent anyone else, Cicero would certainly die. He would undoubtedly attack anyone who came after them… except perhaps her. But if Arnbjorn were there too, she wasn't sure she could prevent him from attacking.
"I'll do it. Where do you think they went?"
There was no mistaking the gratitude in Astrid's eyes. "Thank you, Nessa. I know I'm asking a lot of you. You must be exhausted…"
"I'll be fine."
"I don't know where they went. Try looking around Cicero's room and see if you can find anything. I need to try to get people calmed down here."
Nessa nodded and went to his room where she found the jester's journals. Reading them felt terribly intrusive and she only skimmed them until she caught up to where he came to Skyrim. Still, even with just a cursory reading she learned how it was he went insane, taking on the personae of his last victim. The things he'd been through—she shook her head in sympathy—she wasn't sure she could've survived such solitude.
The last volume of his journals provided a solid clue. Apparently he'd been to a Sanctuary in Dawnstar before coming here—Nessa hadn't even known there were other Sanctuaries in Skyrim. He had thought to stay there and not come here at all. Even back then he'd been critical of Astrid and this Sanctuary. No wonder he had been delayed for so long.
What were these references to guardians? He said they recognized the Keeper and left him alone. Will they recognize me as the Listener?
Repeating the pass-phrase until she memorized it, she decided to keep the journal with her in case she needed to refer to the map or crude drawings. She went back to the common room and found Astrid.
"I think I know where to find him." She kept the location to herself, not wanting Astrid to go after him when she didn't kill him. "I'll go now."
"Wait, take some supplies, just in case," Astrid said, grasping her arm as she turned to leave. "Babette, could you get some potions for Nessa?"
Babette nodded and scurried off, up to her alchemy lab.
"Nazir, get some travel rations for her."
The redguard went to the dining hall, taking the stairs two at a time.
"Where will you be heading?" Astrid asked.
Nessa bit her lip not wanting to give away his probable location, but if Arnbjorn followed him then she would know sooner or later. "The old Dawnstar Sanctuary."
Astrid nodded. "That makes sense. The old place has been abandoned for nearly a century." She took Nessa's pack from her and helped Babette pack up the potions and herbs. "I don't have to say it, do I? Be careful."
She shook her head. "I will be."
Nazir came back and Astrid packed the travel rations for her.
"Ride like the wind, sweet one. You'll have to stick to the roads with Shadowmere, and they can travel over land directly to Dawnstar, so don't assume you'll get ahead of them." Astrid hugged her tightly and whispered to her. "Once this is behind us, things will be better for us all."
Pulling away, Nessa looked at her, her face drawn and closed off. Of course, getting rid of Cicero would simplify things. The constant pressure to go back to the old ways, to have the Listener leading the guild… It would solve so many problems for both of them.
She nodded, returned Astrid's hug, and then left the Sanctuary.
~o~o~o~
Shadowmere wasn't the least bit tired from their just completed journey, but by the time they arrived in Dawnstar, even the demon horse was looking weary.
Nessa nearly fell from the saddle, her legs and seat numb. She leaned heavily against the horse, allowing the blood to circulate in her legs before she staggered to the inn. It had been a grueling trip, one where she had downed stamina potion after stamina potion, but eventually she'd had to rest along the way.
Each time she would sit down, back against a tree or boulder, wrapping herself in a heavy fur, intent on only resting her eyes for a few moments. Each time she'd awaken from a dreamless sleep hours later, having slept far longer than she planned. Once she awoke as she hit the earth, having fallen asleep on Shadowmere's back and then sliding off to fall into the road.
She had no idea how long it would take someone on foot to get to Dawnstar. Cicero could take a more direct route rather than being limited to roads like she was. Arnbjorn could go on four legs and follow the jester's scent, no doubt. She only hoped that they hadn't encountered one another along the way. Even now, one or both of them might be bleeding, dying out there in the wilderness, and she would never find them.
She stopped at Windpeak Inn to try to get her limbs working again by walking around a little. She got something warm to eat and drink too just in case she had to confront… whatever it is she found. Using the brief break from her long ride, she scrutinized the map in Cicero's journal. She wasn't sure exactly what that blob was. Maybe a ship? Was he referring to the docks? That thing spiraling up, out of a blocky looking thing—was that a chimney?
Feeling much better after a light meal and a hot drink, she went outside and held up his journal scrutinizing what she could see of the town. Yes, that blob would probably be a ship, and the chimney might be the one outlined against the hillside belonging to the longhouse. If she followed a path directly from that longhouse down to the water behind the village, she might find the entrance there, providing the crude sketch was accurate and she was interpreting it correctly.
She tightened the cinches on her armor, readjusted the blades strapped to her back, and remounted Shadowmere. This entire journey she couldn't help but think of the impossible position she had been placed in. No matter what she did she would be violating at least one of the Five Tenets. Failing to follow Astrid's order to kill Cicero would be breaking the third Tenet, and if she killed Cicero, she'd be breaking the fifth Tenet.
Arnbjorn and Astrid didn't believe that Sithis, if he even existed, gave a fig about what went on in Tamriel, but she knew that the Night Mother existed and she did care. Nessa reluctantly shut her eyes and prayed to her, not knowing if it would do any good at all. "Am I doing the right thing? Can't you guide me?" There was no answer, but a swirl of wind caught some loose, newly fallen snow and swept it up into the air where it fell around her, glittering in the sun as it did. She shivered as the cold wind found its way into her armor. That was no divine sign, she knew. The wind and snow had been her constant companions on this grim trip.
Fine. If no one was going to guide her decision she'd just take the one she thought best. Sithis and the Night Mother would get a piece of her mind if they decided to punish her over this. She angrily spurred Shadowmere over the last hill toward the water's edge.
Just beyond the edge of a rock outcropping she caught sight of something dark against the white snow. As she drew closer, she saw it was a man. Arnbjorn! She reined in Shadowmere and threw herself off him, and knelt down next to him where he lay panting in pain.
"Gods, Arn. Where are you hurt?" She began to pull at his armor, unfastening the straps and pulling his cuirass open.
"My side. How did you find me?" he growled. Coughing, he flinched with pain and sagged back to the ground.
"I found his journal and thought he might come here." She unstrapped her supplies from Shadowmere and threw down a heavy fur on the cold ground. "Onto the fur, you," she said, helping him to crawl onto the fur.
"Ah ha ha," he chuckled, "I like it when you get bossy, bit." He winced though and carefully put his hand to his side. "Gods, that hurts."
"Don't touch it!" she scolded him. "Roll over. There. Let me see it." She pulled his hand away and took a look at the wound. Her breath hissed when she saw it. "Cicero?" She worked at cleaning it with healing potion while she questioned him.
"Yes. I have to admit that the clown is good with his butter knife. But don't worry, I gave as good as I got."
She frowned at that comment, but attended to his wound. "Where is he?"
"Through the door. It's some old Sanctuary, by the looks of it. I would have followed him, but I don't know the phrase."
"Thank the gods," she said harshly. "You're in no condition to fight him." She finished cleaning the wound and began to cast a healing spell.
He groaned relaxing back against the fur as her healing spell dulled some of the pain. "I suppose you're right. But I slashed him good. Don't know what you're going to find in there, but you can probably follow the trail of blood."
Nodding, Nessa continued to heal the wound until her mana was exhausted. It had stopped bleeding and looked to be far less life threatening. "Do you think you could ride? Take Shadowmere and start home. Astrid needs you. The Sanctuary was pretty tense when I left."
He regarded her for a long moment. "I should help you in there."
Shaking her head at him, she finished dressing the wound with a clean cloth. "No. You said he's gravely injured. I'll deal with it. Astrid is worried about you, Arn." She busied herself with his care, trying not to show her own worry.
"Bit," he said, grasping her hands in his. "This is the way out for us. For all of us. I should have killed him long ago."
She stopped what she was doing to look at his face intently. She could see worry there, but hope too. He really did see killing Cicero as the solution to all their problems.
"Be careful, Nessa." He squeezed her hands, and then wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her face down to his. He kissed her softly.
She closed her eyes, all the times they'd kissed in the past—the soft brush of his mustache against her face, his smell—came surging to the present, but with it came the memory of another man. Parting from his lips regretfully, she shook her head. "There's no going back, Arnbjorn."
For a long moment he stared at her, but then nodded. "I know, bit."
Smiling grimly at him, she stood. "Take Shadowmere and go, Arn. I'll follow as soon as I can. I can take the cart from Dawnstar."
He struggled to his feet and limped to Shadowmere. "Thanks, bit. I'll see you at the Sanctuary." Grunting with the painful effort, he mounted and took one last look at her and left.
Nessa sighed as he rode out of view. Getting him to leave had been necessary. She didn't want him coming into the Sanctuary after her, or have to face him afterwards. She'd never been a good liar. Perhaps Cicero would attack her and she'd have to kill him in self-defense after all. Hm, what would Sithis think of that?
"Stupid Tenets," she muttered as she shouldered her pack, but made sure her blades were accessible.
The black door issued a challenge—"What is life's greatest illusion?"—and she responded with the phrase from Cicero's journal: "Innocence, my brother." It rumbled opened, just like the one near Falkreath, but that is where all the similarities ended.
This Sanctuary was enormous and she could well believe it had lain unused for a century. There were crumbling books, thick dust, and an eerie sense of abandonment to the place. The one surprise was that it didn't smell musty. A fresh breeze lifted the hair that had escaped from her braids.
No sooner had she stepped inside and the door had rolled closed behind her, she heard Cicero shouting, but the voice was faint from distance.
"Listener! Is that Mother's cherub? Oh, I knew you'd come. Send the best to defeat the best. Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn't slay sly Cicero."
"I'm not here to hurt you, Cicero!" she shouted back, hoping he could hear her. "Where are you?"
"Is the Listener being sly with poor Cicero?"
Looking down at her feet she saw the blood trail started right at the door and led down the hall. There was a good deal of blood; Arnbjorn must have injured him badly. She started down the hallway, going as quietly as possible. Cicero's journal had said something about guardians. They hadn't attacked him, the Keeper, why should they attack her? She was the Listener.
It wasn't far before she spotted the first one. The shade paced the floor, a sword strapped to its back.
She quietly unsheathed her daggers and prepared to use them. Her limbs were still cramped and tired from the long, arduous ride, but a surge of adrenaline made her forget about it. She decided to test her theory that they would be harmless to her. She drew herself up, standing with far more confidence and assurance than she actually possessed.
"I'm here, Guardian. I am the Listener selected by the Night Mother herself. I order you to let me pass."
The guardian swung his head in her direction and unsheathed his sword at her words. He appraised her for a long moment then put his sword back and bowed his head to her.
"Listener," he whispered in a sepulchral voice.
She approached the wraith slowly and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. The contact was icy, but the ghost did have form. "Go to your rest, my brother."
His face, what she could see of it, eased into a smile. "At long last." He dissipated with a soft sigh and there was nothing left of the spirit.
As she followed the blood trail she encountered more of the spirits. After the first one she didn't need to introduce herself, they seemed to recognize her now. She dismissed each one, and they all seemed grateful to have their long watch ended.
"Ugh," she grumbled to herself. "Is this what awaits me when I die? I'm going to be posted to some eternal watch somewhere until someone finds me and kills me again or I'm dismissed?" Life was unfair, no doubt, but it seemed that death was just as unfair.
The first trap was a trip wire, carefully laid and difficult to see in the gloomy Sanctuary. There was a guardian standing near it and she would have blundered into it if he hadn't held out his hand to stop her and pointed at it.
"Thank you," she said. "Go to your rest, my friend."
The spirit smiled and disappeared.
"Oh Listener?"
She heard Cicero's voice, high and querulous.
"Cherub…"
She said nothing but crossed the bridge, noting the spikes that would even now be piercing her if she had set off the trap.
"Mother's darling. Listener. Sweet, sweet cherub. Angel of death. Are you still alive?"
"I'm still here, Cicero. I'm not going to hurt you, all right?" she reassured him.
His voice dropped into barely more than a mutter, but she could still hear him. "The cherub can't lie, can she? She's a terrible liar. Maybe she learned how! Maybe she knows how to trick Cicero. The cherub has learned some lessons, hasn't she?"
Nessa sighed and continued on the path. "I'm not lying, Cicero. Come on. You know me better than that."
She followed the trail of blood into a dining hall, one much bigger than at her Sanctuary and through a broken window that led into an ice cave.
Cicero continued to babble as she entered the ice cave, but she ignored his rantings. There was a terrible smell in the cave. It smelled of death and decay and… What was it? It was a smell she had never smelled before: acrid, foul, excremental, and with a whiff of rancid fat. Creeping quietly now, remembering his journal had mentioned a beast of some sort. Well, the smell was certainly beastly.
She rounded a corner and saw a large… What in the name of Talos is that? It walked on two legs, had fangs, claws, and a third eye. She ducked back around the corner, her heart beating in terror. Had it seen her? Gods! These things truly exist? She had heard stories about trolls, of course, but she'd never encountered one.
When her heart had quieted and she found her nerve, she sheathed her blades. Peeping around the corner, she followed the troll's shuffling gait. As soon as he was out of sight, she dashed across the opening to the passageway and found a rocky outcropping. If she could climb to the top of it, she might be able to get one, maybe two, clear bow shots at the beast before it got to her. With luck, she could disable it and it wouldn't be able to climb up to her position. The thought of having to fight this thing with her blades scared her. She might be fast, but her advantage with a blade was striking suddenly from cover.
She climbed up the rocks, her fingers wedging themselves into cracks for purchase, her boots finding tiny ledges. It was slow going and she almost fell once, but she finally made it to the top. Kneeling on the rocky outcropping, she steadied her aim, waiting until it was a clear shot, and then let loose her arrow. It flew true and hit the beast in the shoulder, sinking deeply into his muscle. Good! One arm might be too damaged to use.
The troll turned, roaring in pain, looking for his attacker. As he was searching her, she was fitting another arrow. This one hit him in the breast just as he spotted her and began to charge toward her rocky perch.
Nessa could swear that her perch shook as he began scrabbling up after her. The wounded shoulder wasn't hampering him nearly as much as she had hoped. For a brief moment she considered throwing down the bow and getting her daggers ready, but she had—maybe—one more shot before he'd reach the top. Then she'd be armed with a bow against an angry troll.
"Sweet gods, don't abandon me now," she prayed as she fitted another arrow. She aimed straight down the side of the outcropping. The troll looked up, his three eyes glaring into hers as he roared. Spittle flew into her face, but she let the arrow fly. It didn't have far to go and it buried itself into the monster's third eye in the middle of its forehead.
The troll lashed out with his clawed hand, racking the top of the outcropping, trying to find purchase for the last of its climb, and then it began to sway, the hand losing purchase. She kicked at it and the beast fell to the cavern floor below her.
She fell to her knees, her shaking hands dropped the bow, and she blinked back tears of relief. Her legs felt like rubber as the tension ran out of her. She realized there was an enormous, glaring lack in her training: hand-to-hand combat. Oh, she had practiced with Veezara, but she hadn't ever actually fought someone, or something, as she nearly did the troll.
"Gods help me. I will never go into another cave for as long as I live," she swore. She sat, panting on top of the ledge, waiting for her nerves to settle and the strength to return to her legs. When it finally did, she half scrambled, half dropped to the cavern floor, giving the dead troll a wide berth.
"If it's any comfort, I do feel bad about Veezara. He got in my way. But please tell me that hulking sheepdog has bled to death."
Cicero's voice had grown louder as she drew closer, but she could hear the weariness in it. She also couldn't find his blood trail, she had gotten turned around somehow.
"They're both all right, but I'm worried about you," she said loudly.
"Cherub… You wouldn't trick poor Cicero?"
Nessa's own weariness overwhelmed her. She was tired of playing hide-and-seek with him. "The Listener is not tricky, you know that." She slumped against a wall and sighed. "I want to find you and talk to you, heal your wounds. We need to decide what to do! Where are you?"
There wasn't an immediate reply, but then he started to sing. She followed his thin, quavering voice, occasionally broken by a cough. Finally she came to a closed room and cautiously let herself in, hoping he wouldn't spring out at her, but he was curled into a ball on the cold stone floor, near a fire burning in a hearth, still singing faintly.
"When I next meet, that fair maid Nelly, I'll plunge my knife into her belly..." His voice tapered off and he was silent finally, his eyes closing and head nodding. "You caught me."
Kneeling beside him, Nessa looked him over. There was a fair-sized pool of blood under him. "I found you." His armor needed to come off for her to get to the wound. She drew her dagger, concentrating on the task at hand.
Cicero found the strength the scramble away. "The Listener is tricky! You came to kill sweet Cicero!"
"No!" She dropped the blade and scrambled after him. "I just need to get to your wound. I was going to cut your armor open." She put her hands on his shoulders to reassure him. "I'm still your friend, Cicero. Please let me help you." When he calmed down she began to carefully unbuckle and unlace his armor, pulling it open to view the wound.
"Ow! Ow! Your killing meeee!" he cried out as she peeled the armor away.
She grimaced, but even knowing it was half theatrics she felt bad. "Let's put some healing tonic on it. It will hurt more for a bit, but then feel better. Okay?" Actually, she knew it would hurt a lot more, but there wasn't any use in getting him more worked up. She rummaged through her pack and pulled out another bottle.
"Cicero can take pain. Did I ever tell you about the time I was captured and tortured?"
The blood-curdling shriek rent the air of the abandoned Sanctuary as she poured the tonic into his wound. She cursed herself for not having a sleeping draught with her. She could have knocked him out first. It would have been kinder to him and to her eardrums.
"Cicero is sorry, very sorry. Don't torture poor Cicero!" His voice dropped in tone. "The Listener's healing is going to kill me."
"Oh hush. Arnbjorn hardly flinched when I did this for him."
Cicero's voice dropped to a growl. "You tended to the dog's wounds too?"
"Drink this." She handed him a flask of healing potion. "Yes, I healed him. You wouldn't want to break a Tenet, would you? Mother would be angry." Tired as she was, she carefully placed her hands over his wound and cast her weak healing spell.
"Mother wouldn't mind. That Sanctuary wasn't a proper Sanctuary. He wasn't really a brother." He growled, his voice going low and sly sounding.
"Tch! You don't speak for her. I think she'd mind very much." Nessa's spell petered out as the last of her energy drained away. She put her hand to her forehead, trying to keep from blacking out. She didn't remember ever being this exhausted.
"Is the Listener all right?" he said looking at her with concern.
"I'm just so tired. I chased after you two and didn't sleep much and I'm not very good at magic or fighting trolls and... I'm babbling," she said. The last of her last stamina potion was wearing off. She crawled along the floor, too exhausted to stand, and got herself into the ancient bed in the room.
"Sleep Listener. I'll just be here, on the hard, cold floor if you need anything," he said, his voice dripping with self-pity. "Shivering…"
There might have been more to Cicero's sorrowful soliloquy, but exhaustion had already claimed her.
~o~o~o~
Sleep peeled from her slowly, like she was emerging from a dark pool into a murky cave. The images around her were confusing and it took her a few minutes to piece it together.
Dawnstar Sanctuary.
It was coming back to her now. She tried to roll over but was pinned to the side of the mattress next to the wall. Looking over her shoulder she saw the reason why, Cicero had crawled into bed with her. The fur from her backpack was covering both of them. She didn't mind. He was injured and if she hadn't been so exhausted she would have offered him the bed, but she wasn't thinking straight at the time.
"Cicero?" she said, finally managing to turn over in the narrow bed. "Wake up, Keeper." She prodded him with her finger.
"Hmmm…. Oh! Tee hee, that tickles." He sat up in bed and yawned, stretching languorously. "The Keeper and the Listener sleeping together. That's a well-established tradition. Practically required." He got up, allowing her to get out.
"Not this time, Cicero." She got out of bed and stretched, still fighting the feeling of being drugged from the depth of a long denied sleep. "You know you can't come back to the Falkreath Sanctuary, right?"
His voice went low again. "Cicero attacked the strumpet Astrid and I'd do it again. Anything for Mother!"
"I know, but you can't come back. Let me try to work things out, but you'll have to stay here for now." She had no idea how she could possibly smooth this over. Astrid was expecting her to kill Cicero.
"Who will take care of Mother?" He began to fidget nervously. "Cicero's hasn't left The Night Mother ever…"
Seeing his discomfort she went to him and hugged him. "I promise I will take care of her, okay? You just stay here until I can send word to you." She began to jam her belongings into the backpack. "Stay safe."
She put two bottles of healing potions on the bed. "Use those for the next couple of days. You're going to be fine."
Cicero nodded, not saying anything and being unusually quiet as she got ready to leave.
"Give Mother Cicero's love," he said sadly as she hugged him goodbye.
"I will. Don't worry. She'll be fine."
As she walked out of the Sanctuary she heard a mournful laughter.
"Alone. Cicero is alone again. Not even my Mother to keep me company. Oh guardians, will you keep me company?"
Stabbed by a pang of guilt, Nessa realized that being alone was what drove the jester mad in the first place. She had even dismissed all the guardians. Well, Dawnstar was nearby. Perhaps he would go there and find some companionship. There was nothing more she could do for him right now. She had saved his life. That was no small feat.
~o~o~o~
The carriage ride to Falkreath was long and tedious, but it gave Nessa an opportunity to catch up on her sleep. She had the entire back of the carriage to herself and she spread out her fur, sleeping for most of the first day. The second day the sun was out and shining. It wasn't warm, but she stripped off her leather armor and rolled up her leggings and her sleeves and let the sun touch her skin. The driver turned around to steal glances at her every now and then, as if he'd never seen bare calves or arms before.
Nessa began to think about the note from Brynjolf. She'd left it in her room, hidden in the nightstand near her bed, under her stockings. Now she wished she'd brought it to read on the long ride home. What would he say? She replayed various scenarios over and over. None of the scenarios were the one she truly wanted. It would be foolish to hope, foolish to want. If she were wise she should just burn the letter without reading it, but she knew she wouldn't.
Finally, the carriage arrived in Falkreath and she walked to the Sanctuary, rehearsing her lie all the way.
"Yes, of course I killed him. How not? He's mad."
"I've done as you've bidden… bid… bade me. Cicero is dead."
Maybe if she said nothing, just nodded mysteriously, it would be best. She knew she was a terrible liar, her face revealed everything. Then she wouldn't lie; she would simply nod. That wasn't really lying.
The door rolled open and she strode in readying herself to meet Astrid.
~o~o~o~
She was in her office working when the door rolled open. She headed upstairs and waited, leaning against a wall, wanting to stop Nessa before she got close to the common room.
"Ah, there you are. I am happy to see you safely returned. Arnbjorn is back as well and quite safe, thanks to you. He told me all you did. I'm grateful."
She closed the distance to the young assassin and put an arm around her shoulder. She could feel the steady beat of the girl's heart, the warmth of her blood under her skin. It still tempted her, even after all this time, but there was an enormous distance between them now that not even blood lust could bridge.
"And Cicero? Did you kill him?"
Just the slightest tensing in Nessa's shoulders, the increase in warmth in her face, the sudden increase in her heart beat, all pointed out the lie even before it could be uttered.
"I did," Nessa said. The words were spoken well, confidently even, no hesitation whatsoever, but her blood betrayed her to the woman who knew it most intimately.
"Hm." Astrid squeezed Nessa's shoulders. "Of course you did, my dear. You've become quite the assassin. I think with Cicero gone, we can finally put aside all the things that have been holding us back."
She let go of Nessa and turned to face her. "I have made plans for your future, my dear. Great things await." She leaned forward, taking Nessa's face between her hands and gazing into her blue eyes. Smiling sweetly, she pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "But you're exhausted. Go rest and we'll discuss them in a few days. I have an urgent matter I need to deal with first."
The girl visibly relaxed with the words and kissed Astrid gently on the cheek. "Thank you, Astrid. I will see you when you return." She turned and walked down the hallway, never aware of the Astrid's features hardening and her expression turning into a scowl.
She lied! Cicero still lived and that finally proved it beyond a shadow of doubt. She was plotting with him to take over. Shy, innocent, naïve… right. They'd been played, taken in by a mere girl. Even now Arnbjorn believed her beyond reproach as did most of the guild, but Astrid knew better. She had been betrayed, and there was only one remedy for that.
Great things awaited Nessa, indeed.
~o~o~o~
The bottle, empty now, teetered and finally fell over, next to the others. "Stinkin' swill," Commander Maro said, cursing the favored brew of the Nords, cursing the Nords, especially Faida, owner of the Four Shields Tavern in Dragon Bridge, his son's sweetheart. If anyone knew about this conspiracy to frame his son, it would be her. The Nord bitch would talk soon enough. They weren't being gentle with her. If she were involved in the scheme to set up his son, they'd get it out of her soon enough.
He read the letter again, searching for any clue.
Vunwulf,
I agree to your conditions. When the Emperor arrives, I will pass along his schedule, and arrange for all doors to be unlocked, and any posted security to be conveniently absent for a small period of time.
Nothing will stand between your men and his eminence. He will die by Stormcloak hands, and neither my father nor your great leader Ulfric will even know anything is amiss until it is too late.
Leave the first payment, in gold, at this dead drop.
I look forward to continuing our relationship.
Gaius Maro
The scrawled signature was his son's, or at least a very good forgery. Not for a minute had Commander Maro believed his son was guilty. Someone had planted the letter on him and murdered him so he couldn't defend himself from the charges.
"S'not possible." He picked up an empty bottle of mead, gazing blankly at it for a moment, and then flung it forcefully into the fireplace where it shattered. Anger turned to grief, thinking of his son found dead in Windhelm. His face creased in anguish and fury, and tears he refused to shed burned behind his eyes.
Dark circles carved gullies under his eyes, but the only sleep he could get was when he drank himself unconscious. Then he'd find himself with his face pressed against the desk and a sour feeling in his stomach. He would wash up, forget to shave, and be barely presentable to his men. They knew he was falling to pieces and did their best to cover for him. The worst part was he knew it too.
For thirty years he'd served the Emperor personally, guaranteeing his safety wherever he traveled. And for seven years his son had been serving with him, only to die now, dishonored, in this gods forsaken land.
Once again he drew his dagger from its sheath and tested the edge against his finger. Not tonight. Not while there was still an active investigation. Faida might talk. They might find this Vunwulf and he could clear his son's good name… and his own.
The shadows gathered thickly about his room as one candle flickered out and then another, but he never noticed. This night, like all the ones since his boy's shameful death, had been spent just like this one: sitting and drinking, finally falling asleep with his head pillowed on his arms on the table, and the fire burning down to embers.
"My boy, would never…" he said aloud, to no one but himself. "S'fucking, impossible."
"You're right, you know."
At first he thought he imagined the voice. Those were the words he most wanted to hear. He wanted to believe his son was innocent of plotting treason, but then his sense kicked in and the sonorous voice made his flesh crawl. He stood abruptly, overturning the table, and spun to confront the voice out of the dark.
"Show yourself!" he ordered, his military discipline overriding the boozy fog.
"Let's just keep this anonymous, shall we?" The voice came from the back of the room that was fully immersed in darkness. "Sit back down, your back to me, and we can have a nice conversation. Hmmm?"
Gods! That woman's voice sent chills up his spine. It was silky smooth, seductive, but laced with menace.
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because I'm going to tell you who murdered your son and how you can make them pay for that."
Standing stock still for a moment, he peered into the shadows thinking he could make out the woman's form, but he wasn't sure. The offer was tempting, very tempting. Right now he would exchange his own life to exonerate and avenge his son.
"How do I know you won't kill me?"
The woman's laughter was as lovely as her speaking voice.
"Oh, you'd already be dead, Commander. I've been watching you drown your sorrows for the last quarter hour and the Dark Brotherhood doesn't usually announce itself before striking."
"Dark Brotherhood!" He spat at the floor, but turned around and sat back down. "Filthy den of murderers. Your lot is finished in the empire."
"Perhaps, but we're doing well enough here. And that's what I want, your assurance that you'll leave us alone. In return we'll give you your son's assassin. Yours to do with as you please."
Maro sat quietly in his chair. The Dark Brotherhood was very nearly extinct in Tamriel. He had been investigating this last cell—or rather he'd hired Gaston Bellefort—to figure out where their last warren was located and how to get in. It was high on his task list to eradicate the last of them before the Emperor arrived. Sadly, there had been no word from Bellefort and he'd been gone for months.
"All right. I agree. How do you intend to give me my son's killer?"
An amused chuckle floated out of the shadows. "The very same assassin will attempt to kill the emperor. I have all the details. Suffice to say, this exchange also buys the emperor's life. Not a bad deal for you, I should think."
Maro grit his teeth, wishing he could eradicate the Brotherhood starting with this woman, but he would stay his hand and hear her out.
"Go on. I'm listening," he said.
As the woman's silken voice unfolded the elaborate plan to trap the assassin, he was creating his own plan to eradicate the den of assassins.
~o~o~o~
Maro awoke the next day with a renewed purpose. He went to see the acting-commander, Captain Facian, and filled him in on what he'd learned.
"You can let the Nord bitch, Faida, go. She had nothing to do with it," Maro told his second.
"Too late. She died during questioning a couple days back."
"Hm. Shame." Maro's focus was on something else, the Nord innkeeper's death didn't even register. "We need to find the Dark Brotherhood's den and wipe those bastards out." He paced, his mind grinding out the details of the operation. "First though, catch the bastard that killed my son. I want that fucker taken alive so I can personally torture him and find out who ordered his death." He pounded his closed fist on the table. "Simultaneous to that, we'll root this cancer out of Skryim." He turned to Facian. "I need that intelligence on their sanctuary!"
Facian smiled grimly at his commander, glad to see he was back and as ruthlessly efficient as always.
"Sir. We found this letter when we went through the inn."
Taking the letter, he examined it closely. "Gaston Bellefort's seal," Maro said. "So the woman was hiding this from us?"
"I don't think so, sir. It looks like it might have fallen behind the shelf where she stored mail and was overlooked."
Maro opened the message and read it closely. "Near Falkreath, not far off the road. He drew a map. Good." He scanned it further and found the last piece of information he need. "Silence, my brother."
Captain Facian had never seen his commander look as vicious as he did at that moment.
"And silence they shall have," Maro said, his eyes looking into the not too distant future and preparing to glory in his vengeance.
~o~o~o~
Notes: I hope this chapter is as enjoyable to read as it was to write. Two betrayals in this chapter: Nessa betraying Astrid and Astrid betraying her. Nessa was in a terrible position.
Thanks so much for the reviews: Inuyashagirl2015, eep246, T.S. Hills, TheOtherLachance, KK Jace, zevgirl, Heiwako, Biff McLaughlin, freshneverfrozen, fluttermoth, Nightlain, Jacob shives - I always love hearing from my readers. Take a minute and let me know you think, if you would be so kind.
Special thanks to Heiwako (great Skyrim writer), Biff McLaughlin, and Zevgirl for their encouragement, inspiration, and honest feedback. Especially Heiwako for helping me fall in love with Brynjolf again. (Tee hee!)
Noctural is subtly exerting her influence and combating the Night Mother's control of the Dragonborn.
Any one think of "The God Father" in Nessa's and Astrid's last scene. :) It was in my mind when I wrote it.