“Karliah?”
Sayma stepped toward the woman she hadn’t seen in so long, hoping that she wouldn’t be immediately attacked for entering Nightingale Hall. She was one of only three people who had the right to enter; and yet she also knew that she looked different than she had, sounded different, and had run away and left Karliah and Brynjolf to guard the Ebonmere by themselves. Karliah had every right to strike out at her.
But the woman covered entirely in the supple black of the Nightingale armor merely crossed her arms and turned her masked face toward Sayma. She was silent for a moment, and then sighed audibly.
“So you really did change your face, Dagnell. And your voice as well. I thought it must be the case. There was no other way you could have eluded all of us for so long.” Karliah’s voice was soft, unthreatening, and thoughtful. “What has brought you back after all this time? And more importantly, why did you leave?”
“I, uh…” Sayma stopped, considering. “Yes. I changed my face, and my name. It’s Sayma now. Sayma Sendu. It’s a long story. I left because I had an offer from the Dark Brotherhood. I stayed away because, well, I’m the Listener.”
“I see.” She paused for a moment, her head tilted slightly to one side. “There hadn’t been a Listener for quite some time until recently. A decade at least, to hear it told. I’m impressed. But I’m certain that isn’t everything. There must be more to it, to have taken you away from us without a word to anyone.”
Sayma was surprised at herself; she didn’t know what to say. I … what can I tell her? I wanted to go? I needed to go? I was afraid to stay because I was afraid of what I was becoming? How will any of that matter to any of these people, after I promised to help them, promised to help Nocturnal?
Well there’s one thing I’m sure she’ll understand.
“I have a son, Karliah. Brynjolf’s son. I wasn’t certain whether it was his son or not when I learned I was pregnant, and I was ashamed. And afraid.”
All she could see of Karliah was her violet eyes peering out from under the inky black hood.
“And what has brought you back now?”
“The same thing that sent me away. Brynjolf,” she said. “Dardeh and Roggi made me promise to get him back here safely. Karliah, there’s been… a death. It’s Andante.”
There was a long pause. Finally Karliah nodded toward the second chair placed at her table.
“You’d better sit down and tell me.”
Sayma did just that. She trusted Karliah, had needed to trust her from the moment she had opened her eyes outside Snow Veil Sanctum after being attacked by Mercer Frey and left for dead inside it. She told Karliah what had happened to Andante, and what he had done for Brynjolf just before he had died. She told Karliah about Dardeh being her brother, about their father and how he had died without acknowledging his son. Once she started speaking, the words spilled out faster and faster, facts combined with confusion, and she found herself grateful to have someone with whom to share her distress.
Karliah listened, and nodded, and didn’t interrupt while all of it tumbled from her; and when Sayma finally got to the end and was quiet, she nodded.
“Well, there are good and bad things about this,” she murmured.
Sayma snorted. “What could possibly be seen as good in all this?”
Karliah chuckled. “You’re alive, Brynjolf is alive and human again, and you have a son. And a brother. Those are all good things. Wouldn’t you agree? The bad things are self-evident.”
“Yes, but Karliah – he hates me.”
Karliah shook her head. “No, he doesn’t. I’m certain of it. Look at how he accepted me back into the Guild after twenty-five years of believing I had murdered Gallus. He had no reason to listen to me, but he did. I’ve known Brynjolf since he was quite young; he is a very open-minded man. I’m sure that, given time, he’ll come to understand your reasons for leaving. But even if he doesn’t, I know he could never hate you.”
She paused for a moment, bringing her hand up to her chin in a gesture of contemplation. When she spoke again, it was soft, as though she was talking to herself; and her gaze rested on the table in front of her.
“One of the bad things is, of course, that Andante is gone. I know it’s difficult to understand but they did truly care about each other. It will be hard for him to cope with this loss, at least in the short term. I’m sure he will be back to himself eventually and, well, we will all be watching out for him in the meantime.”
She looked back up at Sayma and shook her head. “What is not clear to me, though, is what you are thinking or intend to do.”
What am I thinking?
Sayma pondered for a moment. Two things kept going through her mind. One was the look on Brynjolf’s face when he’d realized she was truly there in front of him. Even with eyes the deep gold of a Nightlord vampire Brynjolf hadn’t been able to disguise the combination of joy and pain he’d felt. The other thing was the bleak, tired, deeply sad expression he’d worn as he’d brushed her off just before she left the Cistern to come find Karliah. He’d obviously wanted to be angry with her; but he was too wounded to do even that.
I’m responsible for it. I want to take it all back and I can’t.
I want to do something. Anything.
“I … want another chance, Karliah. That’s what I’m thinking. I can’t stand seeing him look so sad. I want a chance to do something to make up for that.”
Karliah smiled with her eyes.
“Another chance with Brynjolf, I take it; not necessarily another chance with the Guild.”
Sayma hesitated for a moment before answering, but then nodded.
“Well, yes. I would take both if I could, I think, but… They made him Guildmaster. Vex and Delvin did. Just now. I’m out; at least out of being Guildmaster. I guess I’m still in the Guild. I understand, but I’m not sure why they’ve waited so long to do it. And it’s fine, really. I always thought he should be Guildmaster, rather than me. You know that.”
There was a tiny chuckle from beneath Karliah’s Nightingale mask.
“You know better than most that if you’d been removed from the Guild we wouldn’t be speaking. As to Brynjolf; well, we didn’t want him to give up. And if we’d named him Guildmaster it would have meant that you were either dead or not coming back. He needed to believe the opposite.”
Truly?
“Even with Andante?”
Karliah nodded. “Even with Andante.” She reached out and gave Sayma’s arm a squeeze. “Andante knew where he stood with Brynjolf, trust me. He simply accepted the situation as it was. I’m … moved, that he gave back Brynjolf’s humanity in spite of it. It must have been a terribly difficult decision for him.”
A sudden thought occurred to Sayma. “Karliah, did you know… oh, what did he say the man’s name was? It began with a D…”
“Dynjyl?”
“Yes. That’s it. Did you know him?”
“Not well, but I did meet him a time or two. I take it Brynjolf told you about him?”
“Yes. I was surprised, to put it mildly. He had never mentioned him, before.”
Karliah nodded. “I’m sure you were. Brynjolf was very young. And very smitten. And Dynjyl, well…” She chuckled. “Some of what Brynjolf knows about being persuasive he learned from that rascal. He was a terrible thief, but a real charmer.”
“Hmm. There’s something important about him, but I don’t know what it is and I don’t know how it’s connected with what happened to Andante. Or even if it is connected.” She sighed. “I feel so out of touch with everything. What can I do?”
“I’m not sure, but I can offer a suggestion. Go to Falkreath, to the Sepulcher. You need to talk to Nocturnal. She wanted her Nightingales back, and whole, all three of us. Brynjolf told me about it. He was quite angry about being seen as not good enough because he was a vampire; and if he isn’t any longer – and shadows be praised about that as far as I’m concerned — well, that leaves only you.”
What?
“But I’m not a vampire. I don’t understand.”
“I can’t tell you what is in Nocturnal’s thoughts, Sayma, only report what Brynjolf told me. But she can. Go to see our Lady. Maybe that will help set you on a path. Aside from that,” she murmured, squeezing Sayma’s hand once more, “I am glad to see you again. And I know that no matter how much Brynjolf is hurting right now, inside he still cares deeply for you.”
Sayma rose, slowly.
“Thank you, Karliah. You don’t have any more reason to accept me back than anyone else does, but you’ve been a big help. I’ll take your advice and see Nocturnal. I have to go through Falkreath anyway. My son is staying with Dardeh and Roggi right now.”
“What is his name?” Karliah asked.
Sayma smiled at her before turning for the exit.
“Brynjolf. His name is Brynjolf. He’s a sweet little boy with red hair and green eyes. It seemed a properly Nord thing to do, to name him after his father.”
Karliah chuckled. “I might have known.”
All the way back to Riften, Sayma thought hard about what she’d learned. There was as much about Brynjolf that she hadn’t known before as there was about her that he hadn’t known.
I don’t know whether there’s a chance for us at all. I don’t know whether I deserve it. But little Bryn does. Maybe we can at least work something out, so that they get to know each other.
She slipped back into the Cistern and through to the Ragged Flagon, and caught her breath as she saw Brynjolf leaning against the wall. She had hoped that maybe she could put it behind her, treat this as a business relationship much as it had been when she first joined the Guild. But as her heart rose into her throat she knew that she’d been fooling herself.
I still love him. And I am a fool. There is no reason in creation for him to take me back.
She approached quietly and cleared her throat.
“Yes? What is it?” he murmured. His eyes were pinched, shadowed with fatigue, and deeply saddened.
“You don’t have to stay away from Honeyside, Brynjolf. It’s your house, has been for a long time now. I can stay at the inn.” She grinned, in spite of herself. “Keerava doesn’t know this face well enough to shoo me out.”
She thought she caught just the tiniest flicker of amusement in his eyes, but then decided that she was wrong when he shook his head.
“No. Thank you, but no. It’s…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “It’s much too soon. He’s still there, for me.” He looked down at his hand and twisted the ruby ring. “He … made this for me the last time we stayed there. It wasn’t that long ago.”
“I wondered where you’d come by that. It’s a beautiful thing.”
He smiled, just a bit, looking at it, and then spoke very softly. “Aye. And it says ‘Loverboy’ on the inside.”
Sayma studied his face and was shocked to see a solitary tear sliding down the side of his nose. He reached up, unconsciously, and wiped it away, then realized what had just happened and met her gaze, looking embarrassed.
“I’m… sorry. Sayma,” he said quietly, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry I was so short with you, before. You’ve been trying hard to apologize and I haven’t been trying hard to listen. It’s just too soon.”
“I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t been more understanding.” She sighed heavily. “Gods know I’m the one who made this mess, and I am just grateful that you all even let me in here with you.”
“You’re the Guildmaster.”
Sayma laughed, in spite of it all.
“Was. You’re right, I finally got my way. Should have been that way all along.”
“Don’t start with me.”
She grinned. “I’m sorry. I won’t. Listen, I went to see Karliah and she told me I should talk to Nocturnal. Do you have any light to shed on that for me?” Just like old times, asking Brynjolf for the skinny on a job.
He frowned. “I don’t think anything I could tell you would make much sense. When I went to see her she talked about getting one of her prized artifacts back. But I wasn’t really paying attention because I was there to talk to her about someone else.”
He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Someone else I’ll never see again, now, thanks to Andante.” He raised his head and shook it. “And no, I don’t want to talk about it. Go see Nocturnal. Maybe she’ll make sense to you.”
“Alright.” Sayma readied herself to leave, but something about his proximity, the light flickering on his red hair, made her forget herself for a moment. “Boss.”
She heard Brynjolf make a disgusted noise as she turned away, and in spite of everything she grinned at the sound of him.
It was good to be near him again.
___
“So there you are. You couldn’t be bothered to wear your Nightingale armor, hmm?”
Sayma looked up at Nocturnal and grimaced. I should have known.
“It’s in Dawnstar, and I was already here. Time is a precious commodity when you’re mortal.”
“Indeed. And what has brought you to me?”
“Brynjolf. He’s human again.”
“I am aware of that, and I am pleased. Now two of my Nightingales are intact once more.”
“Well, that is why I am here. What is it that you find lacking in me, Lady?”
Nocturnal floated up and down slowly, holding her ravens on her outspread arms, and smiled the smallest of superior smiles.
“I think you know, Listener,” she answered. “While your soul is still intact, you have sworn it to Sithis in spite of having transacted the oath with me. That is a bit of a problem, a conflict, shall we say, as I am certain you must be aware.”
Sayma grimaced. “I did no such thing as swear my soul to Sithis. I was… chosen. By the Night Mother. I was not consulted about the issue.”
She would never forget that day, the day that came shortly after she left Riften. Astrid had been surprised to see her new face, but had been too preoccupied with events in the Sanctuary to press her on the reasons for the change. Instead, she had ordered Sayma to conceal herself in the Night Mother’s coffin to spy on Cicero, to learn who it was he spoke to and what conspiracies he might be organizing against her; and so she had done. Sayma had heard Cicero reciting his now-familiar mantra, begging the Night Mother to speak to him. The Night Mother had, instead, spoken to her.
“I will speak to you,” she had whispered in her dusty, ancient voice, “for you are the Listener. Talk to Cicero. Tell him the words he has been waiting to hear. Tell him that you are the one.”
Sayma, like Astrid, had always assumed the Night Mother to be another fiction, a legend from earlier days meant to inspire awe and obedience. Hearing the voice, the command, being told that she was the chosen one, all had shocked her to her core. There is something big awaiting you with them, the voice in her mind had told her; and big it was.
Once her skin had ceased crawling, she had pushed open the sarcophagus to find an irate Cicero waiting for her. He had been ready to kill her until she gave him the message from the Night Mother and then, in spite of the jealousy his face betrayed, he had stood up to Astrid and proclaimed Sayma the Listener.
I didn’t choose it. It chose me. Cicero stood by the Night Mother and by me because of her. He was chosen to be Keeper. He understands what it means to be selected for a thing regardless of your own wishes. Even when he was afraid and fighting the others, and even threatening to kill me, he was standing up for the tenets of the Dark Brotherhood and the principles he believed in.
That is why I let him live.
With a part of her mind, Sayma marveled that once again she was face to face with a deity, a powerful being from another dimension.
“I made a deal with you, Nocturnal, back in Riften. I restored your Skeleton Key. I’ve done nothing to break my vow to protect this sanctuary. The title of Listener was something that was thrust on me, much in the same way that my brother Dardeh is Dragonborn. He didn’t get a choice about that. Neither did I.”
Again, she thought she saw Nocturnal smile the tiniest smile.
“Indeed. Well, as it happened, I made an offer to Brynjolf. If he could restore all my Nightingales to me I would bring the soul of his friend Dynjyl from the Soul Cairn to rest in the Evergloam.”
“So that’s what is so important about him! I couldn’t figure it out,” Sayma said.
“How little you know of your own husband, Nightingale,” Nocturnal said flatly. “Half his lifetime has passed since the young man died and still he cares for him. That is why he’s important. Brynjolf still blames himself for the death and wants to make amends.”
Sayma frowned. “I’ve only learned about Dynjyl in the past week. And how does all of this relate to me?”
“As I’ve said, I find you… incomplete. But I agreed to a compromise. I promised Brynjolf that if he could restore to me the Gray Cowl, I would consider that an adequate substitute for one of you. Since he is once again in possession of an intact soul, it falls to you to complete the bargain.”
“Why?” Sayma blurted out without thinking. “Why is it my responsibility to complete a bargain I had no part in making?”
Nocturnal stared at her.
“I’m surprised. Even Andante was willing to give up something precious, to complete the bargain.”
Sayma’s mouth fell open. “Andante? He came here?”
“Yes. And I allowed him to live, because he was willing to take on that risk for Brynjolf’s sake. He offered me his soul in the place of Brynjolf’s.”
The realization of what Nocturnal was saying was like a slap across the face to Sayma.
Andante was willing to do that, to give himself up, so that Dynjyl could be released. Just for Bryn. And here am I, supposedly Brynjolf’s wife, and balking about doing… something. Anything.
What is the matter with me?
She stood with her head down for a moment, feeling wholly inadequate.
I owe them all. I owe Roggi, and Dardeh, and Andante; and Vex and Delvin and Thrynn and most of all I owe Brynjolf.
Both of them.
Then she nodded.
“Alright. What is it that I must do?”
“I cannot tell you that, Nightingale. You must find the place. There are a husband and wife guarding the way to the Cowl. You must find them. Good luck to you.”
Without warning, Nocturnal sank down into the Ebonmere and disappeared.
Sayma stood staring at the deep blue pool for a moment, her mouth open.
Find the place? What place? What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to figure out a thing like that, without even a glimmer of a clue?
She was fuming all the way through the portal, out to the entry of the Twilight Sepulcher, and out the door into the brilliant sunlight.
The sight of the place stopped her short.
Birds sang, the small brook burbled down from the mountains and across the entrance to the sanctuary. A cool breeze made the branches of the pines and spruce sway, like hands reaching out for each other across the small gaps between them. The air smelled fresh, and full of growing things, and all Sayma could think of was the first time she had emerged from that cave and realized that she loved Brynjolf and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
Her eyes welled up.
It hasn’t been fair. I’ve made bad mistakes, and I need to take responsibility for them. But it hasn’t been fair to any of us, all the things that have happened since that day.
I need to do something, to make up for it.
I will do this.
She began walking back down the path, heading for Dardeh and Roggi’s home. Maybe they could shed some light on this. And even if they couldn’t, she would need to either take small Brynjolf back to Dawnstar or convince them to continue caring for him here.
I only wish I had any idea how I will do it.