The Listener was seated in front of her fireplace when he found her.
He hadn’t spent that much time with her, during his association with the Dark Brotherhood. Usually his assignments came from Nazir, and he had never thought it his place to inquire how exactly Nazir got them. As long as he had work to do, he was happy. Most often, when he visited the Sanctuary, the Listener was away. In fact, helping her move into her home had been one of the longest periods he’d spent with her and that in the presence of others, to boot.
“Listener,” he said, making sure to use her title.
It was important to him to give the Listener a great deal of respect, and he didn’t exactly understand why. It wasn’t as if he put a great deal of stock in the idea of the Night Mother, or Sithis, or any of it. He just assumed that the corpse in the big metal coffin was used as a prop, in much the same way as the Thieves Guild used the stories of the Nightingales as a prop, a deterrent, a way to keep the lower-ranking people in line and the common people in awe. After all, if you said your assassinations were undertaken at the will of the long-dead spouse of one of the original deities, well, they carried a lot more weight. Her comments about the “wretched corpse” supported that assumption, in his mind. But regardless, the Listener was to be obeyed in all things. That was something he felt at a gut level. It was why, in spite of her being very attractive, he’d never so much as considered approaching her.
I wonder why I feel this way. It must be something from … before. I’ll never know. But it’s important somehow.
“Hello, Andante,” she said, smiling. She had a husky voice that had never seemed to quite match her looks, in his mind, but it was a compelling voice nonetheless. “Listen, I appreciate the title. I’ve had people forget before, and it’s a little insulting. But you never have, there’s only us here now, and my name is Sayma. Please don’t stand on ceremony.”
“If you wish. Sayma.” It doesn’t feel right. It makes me feel like I’m about to, I don’t know, go whisper in her ear and nuzzle that lovely long neck of hers.
He wandered farther into the room and leaned against the railing near the stairs down. “Nazir said you were looking for me?”
“Yes. I have a message for you to deliver.”
“To Bryn, right?”
She gave him a startled, sideways glance. “Bryn, is it? Yes, I have a message for you to deliver to your Guildmaster. To … Brynjolf.” There was something odd in the tone of her voice.
Shit. I shouldn’t be quite so familiar about everything, should I. No matter what she said.
She rose from her chair and paced the length of the room several times, reading over a note in her hand. Several times she moved as if to fold it up, then opened it and scanned it again. Finally she sighed, a heavy sigh, and approached him.
“Sorry, Andante. If you’re on that friendly a basis with the Guildmaster, who am I to say anything about it after just telling you not to stand on ceremony. It just surprised me. You haven’t been around that long.”
“We’ve spent a fair amount of time working together,” Andante said. Not nearly as much as I would like though. I do hope I didn’t upset her. I can’t imagine why it would. “It’s been a fairly long time now. Just a little less than you’ve been in your position, as I understand it.”
She folded the letter and handed it to him. She had the most piercing eyes, the palest of greens, nearly yellow. They were cold.
I’m just making it worse, aren’t I? Now what is it? It’s just a letter, isn’t it? What did I say?
“Take this to Brynjolf. It’s the information he was asking for, or at least as much as I have to share with him at the moment. If I have anything else to share later I will.” She waved toward the table. “Have a seat. Let me get you something. A drink, maybe? A sweet roll?”
Well I don’t know what’s going on but I’ll sit to be on the safe side. She seems really tense. I don’t know what’s got her so upset. Maybe I could help…
He slid onto the bench and shook his head. “Thank you but I’m fine.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out one of the small bottles.
“Listen, Sayma,” he said quietly. “You seem a little distressed. I carry these with me. It always makes me feel better and if you’re interested…” He set the bottle on the table in front of him.
Sayma glanced at him, and then at the bottle, and then back at him. Her mouth dropped open. Her face flushed.
“How.. dare you.”
Andante stared at her in disbelief. She’s … livid. She’s practically trembling. What in the world is going on?
“How dare you offer me that… poison?” Sayma’s voice had risen, was bordering on shrill.
Andante got angry. He felt it rise from his gut, run up the back of his neck and wrap around his forehead in a tight band. Easy, fool, remember who you’re talking to. You can snap her like a twig but you do not want to do that. You’d never be able to run far enough away.
“Excuse me, Listener. It’s something I happen to enjoy. I thought you might, as well. Many people do. But since I seem to be offending your sensibilities, I’ll simply take my leave. I have an errand to run.”
He started to rise from the bench, but a growl just behind him stopped him, a sound that had a great deal of threat wrapped up in it.
“You. Will sit down. And you will listen. Do I make myself clear?”
He sat, promptly, and looked up at her. Her eyes were no longer cold; in fact they were fiery with anger. She stood there, staring at him, breathing carefully. He could hear her heartbeat, fast at first but gradually slowing as she worked very hard to regain her composure.
All right, I’m not the only one with a temper here, or the ability to get it under control quickly. I need to keep hold of mine, because she’s going to straighten this out for me, I’m sure of it.
“Crystal clear.”
She paced the room again, and then returned to him.
“I want to tell you a story. You may know parts of this, or suspect it, but I want to be certain that you understand because, Andante, or whatever your name is, it is clear that you are going to accomplish great things in both of our organizations. You’re very good at what you do.”
She leaned forward and made sure that she had his eye.
“But so am I.”
Well, well. It’s not as though I ever doubted that, Sayma. But do tell.
“You know that a while ago the Emperor was murdered.”
Andante nodded.
“He died by my hand.”
Well. This certainly colors things differently, doesn’t it?
“I see. Tell me.”
“Put away the skooma. As you may have noted, I don’t deal well with it. I have my reasons.”
Andante nodded, and slipped the bottle back into his pocket. There was no need to ruffle her feathers any more than they had been, inadvertent though the ruffling had been.
Sayma began pacing the room again. Finally, she turned to him and said “Yes. I will tell you this. Because I think it’s important that you understand who I am.” She returned to her chair by the fire and Andante moved not a bit.
First she described killing the Emperor’s decoy, at a state dinner in Solitude. It had been both exciting and dangerous, as she told the tale, killing the man known throughout Tamriel as ‘The Gourmet’ and stealing his papers, then impersonating him in order to get into the Emperor’s kitchens.
“Nobody even knew that The Gourmet was a man except for the chef in Markarth. That’s how I found out who needed to be… taken care of, shall we say? I talked him out of the name by threatening to kill him, and then killed him anyway. And then I travelled to where the Gourmet was and took him out while he was sleeping. I suspect you might have done it more elegantly but then I don’t have your ability to ingest the blood; all I can do is spill it. Still. Two perfect assassinations before I even got into the castle, Andante. Not a soul knew about either of them until I was long gone. I would imagine they didn’t find the Gourmet until the room started to smell.”
“Nicely done,” he murmured. I could have done that, as she said, but still. Well done.
“And then the fun with the cook.” She turned to look at him and grinned. “Oh no, I didn’t kill her. She was rather a lot of fun to work with, actually. Very enthusiastic about her cooking, and more than a little in awe of me because she thought I was the Gourmet. I helped her make the ’Potage le Magnifique.’ Complete with a giant’s toe, a septim, and a little bit of jarrin root for flavoring.”
Andante couldn’t help it; he smiled.
“Well I am impressed. Jarrin root?”
She smiled. “I see that you know your poisons. Yes. We simmered it nicely and he dropped like a stone when he ate it. I’m sure the other guests were grateful that the ‘Emperor’ always samples the dish first. It was a near thing, escaping Solitude after that, as I had been double-crossed; the Sanctuary in Falkreath was burning at the same time we were serving the Potage. But I did escape, and I made it back in time to rescue Nazir, and Babette, and the Night Mother.”
So that’s what happened.
“I wondered. Neither of them has ever told me. But what about the Listener?”
She frowned at him. “What do you mean? I was the Listener. That was part of the problem. The previous – leader – of the Sanctuary in Falkreath wasn’t the Listener, and she did not believe it when the Night Mother chose to speak to me. Only Cicero believed it, and by the time the Sanctuary was burning he had already come here, to save his scrawny hide. You’ve heard that story. He doesn’t do well with people who fail to give the Night Mother the respect she deserves, and he attempted to take it out on everyone in Falkreath.”
Oh now I see. This is why he’s still alive. That also means that the business with the Night Mother is… real.
I shall have to think about that one.
“I know that you’ve heard that I did not kill him when I was asked to do so. He may be perfectly mad, and more than a little obnoxious, but it was because he was faithful to the tenets of the Dark Brotherhood. He gave up his life as a sane man in order to do what he thought was required of him, serving as Keeper for the Night Mother since long before he brought her out of Bravil. I didn’t feel right about ending his life. There are few enough people in the world who have any sort of principles at all and, strange though it may be, he’s one of them.”
Oh. There’s yet more to this than I thought. He’s been the Keeper for a long while. Out of Bravil?
Something about that tickled the back of his mind, but there was so much going on that he pushed the thought away. Andante leaned forward, truly interested now. There was more to Sayma Sendu than he had already imagined.
“Astrid, the former leader, double-crossed us with the help of the Commander of the Penitus Oculatus, Maro, and a good many truly talented people died in that fire as a result, including her. Well,” she said with a smirk that put a chill up Andante’s spine, “I was the one to put her out of her misery, but the fire took her, truly. Then, I got Maro. We moved here to Dawnstar. And I completed our contract to kill the Emperor.”
She described returning to Solitude, swimming out to the Emperor’s ship, and working her way through all of the Penitus Oculatus guards one by one until, finally, she stood in the stateroom, staring across the space between herself and Titus Meade II, amazed that he seemed both to know that she was there to kill him and to accept it.
“All he asked was that I kill the man who had set this plan in motion.”
Andante had listened to the whole story thus far, carefully, and as the toll of bodies had risen higher and higher he’d become more and more impressed. He shook his head.
“And did you?”
Sayma gave him a grim smile. “I did. I reported to him, got the location of our – rather substantial – payment, and then slit his throat, right there in the Bannered Mare. I understand that they had to replace some of the floorboards not long after I left there. He made quite a mess. But I do enjoy the color of blood, Andante, as I know you do.”
She rose and stood beside him.
“So, I trust that at this point you understand that, as good as you are – and you are truly one of the best – I am at very least your equal. And by virtue of being the Listener, I am your superior. If I tell you to keep skooma away from me at all times, you will do so. And you will never speak to me in that tone again.” Her voice was very calm, had dropped to a low, sultry, and very threatening level.
In spite of himself, in spite of the fact that not much rattled him, in spite of the fact that he could easily drain her blood from her body before she could draw her swords, Andante swallowed hard.
Formidable.
“I understand. It won’t happen again.” He looked at her for a moment. She had long since returned to calmness. She had accomplished the most important assassination of the age, and her heart rate wasn’t the least elevated in telling the tale.
He smiled.
“Well, Listener, I have to tell you that I am very impressed. And I feel quite privileged to be working for you.”
“And you are full of it, Andante.” She grinned. “I’m used to dealing with people who are, and I recognize it when I see it.”
He laughed. “Yes I am, you’re right about that; but it happens that right at this moment I’m being honest. I might have been able to do what you did – possibly — but, as you say, I have abilities that most people do not. You truly have my respect. And for the record, Listener, if I knew what my real name was I would most assuredly have shared it with you. But I do not know. So I am Andante.”
He rose from the bench and stretched his arms out behind him.
“And now I’d better get moving. It’s a long way back to Riften.”
She smiled, just a bit, and a bit sadly to his eye. Interesting. I wonder what it is about Riften that bothers her. I’ll bet it has something to do with the skooma trade, given her reaction.
“Yes it is. Take care. And I’m sorry that this is just an errand. I’m sure you know that you are very highly valued. I just don’t have anything else for you right this moment.”
He smiled. “Thank you, Listener.”
“Sayma.”
“Sayma.”
“And Andante?”
“Yes?”
“Two things. First, I’m sorry I made the comment about your name. It must be very hard, not remembering. Harder than remembering sometimes is, I’d imagine. But second, you do understand that if anything I just told you ever gets shared anywhere, you are a dead man, yes?”
“Of course, Listener.” He gave his habitual semi-bow and slipped out the door before she could stop him again.
He stepped outside into the frigid evening and blew out a deep breath.
That was all very unexpectedly tense. At least it’s over and I can go finish the job for Brynjolf now, and then home. After all this running, a nice soak will feel good. A disadvantage to having great speed. I make a great messenger boy. At least I have an excuse to spend some more time with him. I hope he’ll be in a good mood. Sayma certainly wasn’t.
He reached into his pocket, fingering the small bottle he had offered to Sayma, then smiled. He pulled it out, opened it, and downed it before breaking into a run. He would be in Whiterun in no time. And then to Riften. Home. As he ran south, he thought about Honeyside and smiled.
It had been his home for some time now. He’d been gifted it just after completing a luscious theft for the Guild, removing several high-end pieces of jewelry from the possession of an especially unpleasant woman in Solitude. It had taken a great deal of fortitude on his part to sweet talk his way into the bedroom where she kept them; but he’d left her content, as he always did. Once he’d accomplished that feat and knew where the jewels were he’d been able to slip into the room while it wasn’t occupied. He had felt as though he’d earned a bonus for that job, but hadn’t expected anything quite so nice as a home.
Brynjolf had tossed him the key and pointed him in the direction of the house. “I’ve moved out,” he’d said. “I think it will suit your refined tastes, don’t you?”
Andante had noticed the look on Brynjolf’s face when he handed over the keys, a mixture of sadness, anger, and something else – possibly regret. He’d spent most of the time between then and now trying to get Brynjolf back into Honeyside. It hadn’t worked. Not yet. It won’t stop me from trying.
Andante had noticed the ring, too. Brynjolf wore the Bond of Matrimony, and never took it off. It hadn’t really registered to him, what that ring was, until he’d been looking at it idly one evening as they watched the patrons in the Bee and Barb. The Bond of Matrimony. He’d been shocked. He’d never asked about it, though, because he’d never seen Brynjolf spend any amount of time around a woman – or a man, for that matter, aside from Delvin. He didn’t think this marriage was an active one. But somewhere there was a person who had gotten to the Guildmaster, caught his heart, and gotten a commitment from him, enough to have him still wearing his ring; and Andante was curious.
I don’t know who it was, and I don’t care. But unless this person is dead, he or she is very stupid to have left Brynjolf alone. Because I want him, and they’ve left him to me. It’s still intriguing, though. I wonder what sort of person this could have been.
He thought about it, all of it, as he did the small job in Whiterun and headed for Riften, stopping a couple of times to feed on easily-calmed guards along the way. There was much to think about. Sayma. Cicero. The Night Mother. Bravil. And Brynjolf and his ring.
—
“About time you got back. I have more jobs than I know what to do with,” Delvin said in his odd, stuffy accents.
“Yes, well, our mutual friend in Dawnstar kept me longer than I had expected.”
“Really,” Delvin said in a dry tone. “You truly have no shame.”
“No, not that, Delvin. There are places to which even I will not go and that’s one of them. Besides,” he said, grinning and twirling his brandy, “she’s not my type.”
“And neither is Vekel. At least not unless you want Tonilia’s knife in your back.”
Andante laughed. He often wondered what he had done before – whatever it was that had happened to him — because that act, the slightly foppish face he showed to the world, had come to him as naturally as slipping into his armor. Whatever he had been, what he was now was the only him he knew. And yes, he had flirted with Vekel, unmercifully, while not intending a single thing by it. He had another goal in mind.
“Not to worry.” He took a sip of his brandy and grinned a sly grin. “And our Guildmaster? He is…?”
Delvin rolled his eyes. “He went over to Honeyside last night. He was tired and said you’d offered him the place. I don’t know what’s up but I’m glad he got a chance to rest. There’s a lot riding on his shoulders these days.”
“So I’ve gathered,” Andante murmured. “I shall go make sure everything is to his liking. And before you say anything, Delvin, I shall make a point of staying in the spare bedroom tonight.”
Delvin smirked. “I wasn’t going to say a thing. You know better anyway, right?”
“Yes, so he’s told me. But a fellow hears things. One never knows.”
“Get on with you. Oh and if you want another job come see me. I have plenty.”
“I will,” Andante said, making a show of a large yawn. “But not tonight.” I am rather tired, he thought, and that doesn’t happen often. But I suppose that running from here to Dawnstar and back is a bit of a stretch for anyone to make.
He made his way to Honeyside, thinking happily of the warmth of the place. I really could use a soak, he thought, with a nice brandy, who knows what else, and then perhaps a real sleep.
Except that he couldn’t fathom the idea of sleeping. He’d been trying, all this time, to get Brynjolf back into Honeyside, and now it would seem that he’d succeeded. Not that he expected him to stay much more than a few moments after he realized Andante was home. But at least for a moment they would both be there at the same time, and that made Andante very happy indeed.