Cicero's sharp eyes caught the flash of black-and-red leather peeking out from the strange young woman's cloak as she swept silently, inconspicuously, through the streets of Bruma. Her footfalls were soft and quick, though she seemed to be moving at a normal, nonchalant pace, sticking to the shadowy sides of the street. Like a sabre cat stalking a skeever, Cicero followed her at a distance, never letting her out of his sight, but also not letting her on to his pursuit. He was a clever boy, small and sturdy, twelve years old, and as skilled with his wit as he was a knife, both to his mother's pride and concern. Cicero had spent his young life entirely within the walls of Bruma, learning every way in and out of the city from the main gates to a loose rock behind his house on the eastern wall. Whenever he found life boring, or wanted to skip out on his chores, Cicero would disappear into the Jerall Mountains, spending his days exploring until he knew every tree, stone, and flower.
The mysterious woman almost eluded Cicero when she slipped behind the blacksmith's shop. Cicero rounded the corner a moment later, expecting to catch her in the alley, but the woman was gone. He had read about the Dark Brotherhood and their assassins' ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere, kill, then disappear like magic, but he had seen her just an instant before, as corporeal and mundane as he was. A sudden breeze flew through the alleyway and a slight movement on the city wall caught Cicero's eye. He approached the high wall, ran his fingers across the stones, and found a hidden rope ladder blending into the rock. He pulled himself up a few feet before he slipped, cutting his palms on the roughened rope. A little blood never bothered him. He wiped off his hands on his pant legs and, determined, tried again, bracing his feet against the stone wall and carefully climbing his way to the top. He perched atop the wall and surveyed the forested expanse around his hometown. He caught sight of a fluttering cloak disappearing behind a rock to the east and scrambled down the outside rope, quietly tracking after the woman into the woods.
The path she led him down was narrow and well-concealed. Cicero had gone right by it many times while exploring, never noticing it, but now as he was slinking his way along, the path seemed perfectly obvious. Lost in these thoughts, Cicero forgot to watch his feet and stepped on a stick, snapping it loudly in two. Surprised, Cicero jumped behind a rock. The assassin whipped around, pulling a knife out of her belt as she moved. The knife glinted in the sunlight, and the boy's heartbeat quickened when he saw a smear of blood on the woman's hand. She didn't notice Cicero peeking around his rock and sheathed her knife, warily continuing on her way. Cicero stayed hidden until his breathing slowed and he felt she was a safe distance in front of him, carefully, carefully, creeping after her.
The obscured pathway grew darker and narrower as the boy continued his stealthy pursuit. Suddenly, the path opened into small clearing, even the dim sunlight making him squint. The woman stepped around a large rock and pulled off her hood, revealing long brownish hair and elven ears. Cicero could hear an odd, deep booming noise coming from within the large rock, and moved to a hiding place where he could see the face of the rock better. To his shock and excitement, a large, Black Door stood nearly hidden behind the rock in a shallow cave, seeming to glow a supernatural red in the gloom surrounding it.
"What is the light of anguish?" a breathy, whispery, creepy voice asked from somewhere in the reddish darkness.
Cicero had read about these Doors, their riddles were well-kept secrets. Before the woman had a chance to answer, Cicero leapt from his hiding place, taking the assassin by surprise. He pulled his dagger out of his own belt this time, but didn't have a chance to brandish it before the woman had his back against a large rock and her own knife at his throat.
"Who are you! How did you find this place!" she hissed, glaring at the red-headed boy.
Cicero had dropped his dagger when she caught his shoulder and shoved him backwards, but his eyes showed very little of the fear inside him.
"The answer is 'mourning'," he said as nonchalantly as he could. His cocky attitude had saved him before, and he hoped it would now. He smirked at the woman holding a knife to his neck.
"What?" The woman pushed her knife harder, the sharpened tip poking into the boy's flesh. He had rattled her.
"The door," Cicero's confidence bolstered, "The answer to the question is 'mourning'."
The assassin let her knife from Cicero's throat and allowed him to stand up. Cicero was trembling inside, but he found his footing and brushed himself off. He checked his neck, his fingers came away bloody. But a little blood never bothered him, right?
"Who are you?" the woman demanded again.
Cicero wiped his bloody hand on his shirt and smiled broadly, casually picking up his knife and replacing it in his belt.
"I'm just a boy who wishes to join your ranks! I've read every book in the library that even mentions your...ahem, organization...at least three times!"
The woman looked the boy over and was honestly not sure what to do. Nobody, especially not a child, had ever followed an assassin to their Sanctuary successfully. It was considered wildly dangerous. And he had guessed the answer to the Door.
"Wait here..." she said, turning her back to the boy.
The assassin gave the correct reply and the Door opened. She disappeared inside it, leaving Cicero alone with the unsettling breathing, thumping noise emanating from the Door and the fact that he was right about its answer. Many long minutes passed before the door opened again.
A stocky woman with autumn-brown hair stepped out into the small clearing, followed by the same woman Cicero had already met. Larunda, the leader of the Bruma Sanctuary, folded her arms and regarded the child.
"Talitha tells me you want to join the Dark Brotherhood," the new woman said bluntly, her derisive tone not lost on the young Cicero. The air of authority about her made Cicero jump to his feet from where he sat in the dying grass, studying a line of ants.
"Yes, ma'am, I do." Cicero decided this situation warranted his best manners and swept into a deep bow. "I am Cicero, son of Helvia, of Bruma."
Larunda raised her eyebrow. He was just a kid, in over his head. His bright-eyed, freckle-faced head.
"Why?" she probed.
"I think it would be fun!" Cicero smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm very good with a knife, and I've gone hunting with my uncle, used a bow and arrow, and even made a poison for the skeevers in our basement!"
"We kill more than just deer and skeevers, kid," the Sanctuary leader said, turning away, "Go home."
"I'm willing to learn. I want to know what it feels like..."
Larunda looked over her shoulder at the boy. His lively, enthusiastic voice had become cold, detached, faraway. It worried her. He had an earnest innocence about him, and she didn't want to be responsible for corrupting it. She considered what to do. Initiation into the Dark Brotherhood was often cruel and grueling. The boy reminded her of someone she had known a long time ago, a bright, eager young girl with the same sparkle of life in her eyes. Larunda sighed and decided to give him a task she felt certain was impossible for a little boy to complete, in an effort destroy his determination and keep him away.
"You want to join us, really?" she asked one last time.
Cicero looked up from the nothing he'd been staring at and into Larunda's eyes. His brown eyes were so deep, innocent, and glistened like moonlight on springwater.
"Oh, yes!" he cried, jumping and clapping his hands. Larunda shuddered.
"Alright, but you'll have to pass a test first." Larunda sat down on a log and gestured for Cicero to join her. "We all did, before we joined. You must prove yourself in Sithis' eyes to be worthy of his blessing. Do you think you can do that?"
The boy nodded his head vigorously. Larunda strengthened her resolve and spoke in a resolute, unwavering voice.
"Your mother. You must kill your mother and bring me her heart. Then you'll be our Brother."
The enthusiasm drained out of the boy's face, taking its color with it, and he looked suddenly very, very, young and like he was going to throw up, but he swallowed hard. In a soft voice, he answered her.
"Okay."