“You might think about easing up a bit, lad,” Brynjolf said, watching Roggi slam back the third tankard of mead in a row while he took small sips of his own.
Roggi had been staring at the bar, silent, ever since they’d come into Candlehearth Hall, and he’d been ordering one mead after another. He opened his mouth for a moment, as if to speak, and then shook his head.
“You and I both know about overdoing it. I don’t want to think about what Dardeh will do to me if I bring you back to him in this kind of condition.”
That got a slight reaction from Roggi, a sideways glance with the slightest of smirks.
“I know, Bryn. I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to regret this later. And neither one of us needs dragon fire.”
Good. I’ve interrupted him. That’s what I needed.
“So, will you tell me what that was all about?”
It had been one of the most awkward things he’d ever witnessed. The young woman, Frina, was so excited to see Roggi. It was obvious that she had once had a bit of hero-worship going on with respect to him. It was also clear that she had absolutely no understanding of, no connection with the reality of the man sitting here beside him. Roggi had stood there, looking uncomfortable, and sorrowful, and had listened to her gushing about Ulfric Stormcloak and the war, and how glorious it was going to be to get the Imperials out of Skyrim and send the elves back to where they came from. Every time she’d said something like that Roggi had winced. He’d managed a few quiet comments, telling her that she looked wonderful, and that he was glad she was doing well. When she’d told Roggi, with her eyes sparking fire the likes of which he’d seldom seen, that she could hardly wait to see Ulfric crowned High King of Skyrim at last, it had seemed as though a knife had entered Roggi’s side.
“Well, you saw it, Brynjolf. She still thinks of me as the brave Stormcloak ‘hero’ who married her sister. She doesn’t know why I left. She doesn’t know about… him, or what I used to do for him. She doesn’t know about Dar.”
“So why didn’t you tell her?” He paused for a moment, then, thinking of the way the young woman had exploded in a flood of words. Roggi had barely been able to get one in edgewise, and that was really saying something. Roggi could talk more at a stretch than almost anyone he’d ever known. “Never mind. I know why.”
Roggi chuckled. “Well it never was easy, around her. And she was not much more than a child back when Briinda and I were married. It was hard. You had to wait for an opening and then you had to choose your words carefully. You did well to break in when you did, Bryn.”
I had to do something. It was getting out of hand.
He’d cleared his throat and pointed at Ulfric’s war axe, and smiled at the girl.
“So are ye an axe maiden, lass? I see ye got an axe an’ a pick both. Are ye off to the wars now yerself, then?”
She’d turned to him and nodded vigorously. “Brunulvr, was it?”
“Aye.”
“Yes, these aren’t both mine. I use the pick. But this!” She had practically bounced with excitement. “This is Ulfric’s war axe. Ulfric’s! Can you imagine? He’s asked me to… well, I can’t really say, can I.” She had the good grace to look embarrassed at her near-slip, not realizing that the two of them had heard the whole exchange. “I’m doing an errand for him.” She looked back at Roggi. “Isn’t it exciting, Roggi? I’m doing Talos’ work, finally. I’m going to get to show what I can do. I think Briinda would be proud, don’t you?”
Roggi had looked down at the snow, then, and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure she would be, Frina. She was at least as good a soldier as I,” he said quietly.
Frina had studied his face, and, it seemed, finally realized that Roggi was in some discomfort. Then she’d looked down, following his gaze, and had focused on his hands.
She had reached out and taken his hand and held it up, then looked him in the face.
“Did you… get married again?”
He’d nodded, almost sadly. “Yes. Not all that long ago. I’m very happy.” He smiled, then. “I never expected to find anyone again, and didn’t, for a long while. It’s a good match.”
“I’ll vouch fer that,” Brynjolf had said in his father’s voice, and then stopped cold as he realized Frina was staring at his hand, on which still rested his own Bond of Matrimony. She’d stared at him, eyes wide, with an expression of exquisite horror. It had finally dawned on him what she was thinking, and he’d burst out laughing in spite of Roggi’s obvious distress.
“No, no, it’s not what yer thinkin’. I’m married to a wee Redguard lass. Roggi’s …” he looked at Roggi and smiled, realizing that what he was about to say was the truth, “one of my very best friends. We’re just out doin’ some errands together, for the spouses. Got te keep ‘em happy, don’t ye know.”
Frina had been so obviously relieved that he’d laughed more. Frina had changed directions almost instantly, gotten Roggi to tell her that he lived in Falkreath now, and dashed away.
“I have to go, Roggi. I can’t keep this errand hanging.” She’d grabbed him for another hug and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll come find you when I can!” And she’d dashed away toward the gates of Windhelm, leaving Roggi a shuddering wreck.
Brynjolf watched Roggi carefully, hoping that the smile and the chuckle meant good things; but his face fell almost immediately.
“Alright. So it’s obvious she might not be thrilled at the idea of you being married to a man. Some people can’t deal with that, and … imagine how horrified she would have been with me a while ago.” He chuckled. “It’s not just that, though. I can tell. What’s got you so rattled?”
Roggi sighed heavily.
“You can’t imagine, Bryn. She looks almost exactly like Briinda. Exactly. I thought I was seeing a ghost. Oh, the color of her hair is a bit different, for certain, but it was just like looking at… my wife.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a person look so sad.
“It’s like seeing it all, all over again. All of the things I thought maybe I had put behind.”
I know. I know what that’s like. The first time I saw Andante I thought I was going to drop, right there. It was like looking at Dynny. It was wonderful, and it hurt like Oblivion all at the same time.
“I’m sorry, my friend. You didn’t need all of that to happen at the same time you were looking at Ulfric.” He said it quietly, making certain that nobody else heard him use the name. It wouldn’t do to attract too much attention.
“No, I didn’t,” Roggi said, sitting up straighter and shaking his head. Then he groaned, and rubbed his forehead. “Oh I am such a fool. I shouldn’t have done this to myself.”
Brynjolf laughed. “Well as long as you have no more now. You seem to be holding up fairly well.”
“Yes. I’ve done worse. Well you know running into Frina isn’t even the worst of it, Bryn.”
“No?”
Roggi frowned. “No. Frina’s a sweet girl, even if she’s a bit fanatic about her religion. She’s not the problem. It’s what we heard inside that really has me worried. I need to get back to Dar with that, but I’m really worried about how he’ll react.”
“You think there will really be war?”
“Of course there will be,” Roggi hissed. “You don’t understand. Balgruuf and Ulfric have hated each other since they were boys. Maybe “hated” is too strong, I don’t know. I don’t know Balgruuf very well. They surely don’t like each other, though. Ulfric holds Balgruuf in a fair amount of, oh, how to put it. Disdain. They were just barely civil to each other when Dar was arranging the truce.”
“You were there too. I’d forgotten.”
“Just about the moment she presents him with that axe, it’s all over, Bryn. Balgruuf will side with the Imperials because of Ulfric. And it’s going to be terrible.”
“Because…?”
“I told you. Dar will come here. To the Stormcloaks. To defend the worship of Talos. He feels very strongly about it even though he hates Ulfric. And he can’t side with the Empire, because of that.”
“Damn.”
“Exactly. And if he does that…”
It slowly dawned on Brynjolf what Roggi was getting at. It was an inevitable conclusion. It was an awful conclusion. It was every bit as horrible as the realization that had come to him as he’d fought the disorientation of his body suddenly being human again, and had seen Andante facing down the posse of bounty hunters.
That was one of the worst moments of my life. I could see the sun rising and I thought I knew what he meant to do, and there was not a single thing I could do about it. I knew he was going to die, and I couldn’t bring myself to believe it until it was too late to act.
“You wouldn’t come back here as well, would you, Roggi?” he asked, as quietly as he could. “Tell me you wouldn’t do that to yourself. Not after what he did to you.”
Roggi looked him in the eyes, his gaze switching back and forth from one side to the other. He had his answer before any words were said, and his heart sank.
“I would have to, Bryn,” Roggi murmured. “I can’t leave Dardeh. I won’t leave him. Not ever again.”
“But Roggi.” He looked around to make sure nobody else was near. “That would be as bad as me going out looking to get turned again.”
“Bryn. He’s my whole life. It almost ended me to watch him go to Solstheim without me. It was worse when he went to Sovngarde. I can’t bear to let him fight dragons alone, because it would kill me if something happened to him and I wasn’t there. I won’t let him go off to war without me. I couldn’t keep Briinda safe. I won’t let that happen again.”
His voice dropped even lower. “Besides. I’ve told you. It wasn’t all Ulfric. Part of it was me. I still hate him for what he tried to do to Briinda. But if I have to follow Dardeh back here, that’s what I have to do.”
Roggi closed his eyes and shuddered.
My premonition was closer to the truth than I imagined. This could tear everything apart. Gods damn it all to Oblivion.
There’s more to this, too. I need to think it through, because there’s something else, important, and I can’t put my finger on it. But we can’t sit here and wait for everything to happen without us.
“Let’s get out of here, Roggi,” he said, sliding off the barstool. “I say we take a carriage to Falkreath, right now.” A thought occurred to him, and he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Roggi asked, rising from his seat.
“Ah, I was just thinking that it will be a good thing if the carriage driver doesn’t remember the man in red vampire armor who asked him to do the same thing not that long ago.”
They left the inn, and exited Windhelm’s gates. They were halfway down the long, cold bridge toward the stables when Roggi started chuckling.
“My turn to ask,” Brynjolf said. “What’s so funny?”
“’I’m married to a wee Redguard lass,’” Roggi said in a startlingly good imitation of Brynjolf’s statement.
Brynjolf grinned. “That was well done, lad. Well, I had to deflect her somehow, and it’s true, isn’t it.”
“It is. And it was good to hear you say it.”
It felt good to say it, too.
Huh.
They were quiet during the long carriage ride, each of them buried in his thoughts. Roggi dozed, off and on, but Brynjolf couldn’t quite fall asleep. He kept thinking about the girl, Frina, and how at this very moment she was likely halfway to Whiterun, about to deliver the axe that would break the truce and send them all down a path nobody wanted to travel.
Will Balgruuf really return the axe? I don’t know much about him but Roggi seems convinced that he will. I know enough men like him, though, and like Ulfric. Too much pride to yield a pace and not enough humility to back down when they’re wrong. Mercer was like that, to a degree, and that’s part of why we ended up in such a mess. He wasn’t like me, or Delvin. Or Andante, for that matter. You wrap around a situation. Ease into the gaps. Hide in the shadows. Adjust to the circumstances. You get nowhere by standing up like some kind of wall, because walls can be brought down by nothing more than a well-placed rock.
So, let’s say this happens the way Roggi thinks it will and war breaks out. What am I missing in this? Roggi and Dardeh go to Windhelm, and stand at Ulfric’s side. I go back to Riften and try hard to stay out of Maven’s politics if I can, and keep the Guild out of harm’s way. War is usually good for business but we’ll have to be careful. And I’m still missing something.
__
It was busy at Mammoth Manor, when they arrived. Lydia was standing at the doorway to the children’s room talking to the three of them. Brynjolf saw the bulky form of Dardeh bending over the oven, and smiled at the sparkle in his eyes when he looked up and saw Roggi coming toward him.
Dardeh stepped out from behind the oven to greet Roggi.
“Missed you,” he said, pulling Roggi to him for a quick kiss. “I’ll get some more food started.”
“And I you,” Roggi murmured.
Brynjolf watched Dardeh’s eyes change. I guess old Roggi isn’t quite as good at hiding his emotions as he thinks he is. Dardeh’s picked right up on the fact that things aren’t quite as we’d hoped. He turned to place his daggers in one of the empty chests near the door, to be out of notice of curious children.
“Hi, Roggi. I hope everything’s well?” The sultry voice had Brynjolf whirling to look.
Sayma. What is she doing here?
He approached them and nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. Sayma looked at him with the barest hint of a smile and inclined her head.
“Well,” Roggi began, “it was an interesting trip to be certain. Everything is nice and boring in Riften right now…” he trailed off and wandered toward one of the chairs near the fireplace.
“But?” Dardeh wasn’t fooled for a moment. “What’s the rest?”
Roggi pointed at Brynjolf. “He’s fine, for one thing.” He grinned.
“Yes, I am,” Brynjolf said, nodding. “I’m adjusting. He was worried about me doing something stupid. The stupidest thing I did was not getting out of the Cistern for some fresh air before this. He dragged me back with him so that I could see the young one.”
Lydia turned to smile at him, and then called into the bedroom. “Bryn, come out here, there’s someone who wants to see you.”
The younger Brynjolf pattered his way out into the main living space. When he saw Brynjolf, he started to run – or the nearest thing to a run such small legs could manage – and reached up to his father.
“Da!”
Brynjolf couldn’t help but break into a smile. He scooped the youngster up onto one hip and gave him a hug.
My son. I still can’t get over it. I have a son. And there is nobody in the world who could doubt that he is mine.
For a few minutes he was completely unaware of what the others in the room might be doing, or saying. He simply talked to his son, laughing at him, marveling once more at the fact that he existed. He was a clever boy, that much was clear. He had a sense of humor even at his young age. And he was endlessly fascinated by the scar on his father’s cheek and the beard on his chin.
“No lello?” he asked, patting the skin next to his father’s eyes.
Brynjolf laughed. “No lello. I won’t be having yellow eyes ever again, lad. They’re green, like yours. We like it this way, don’t you think?”
“Aye,” the little one said, proudly.
Finally, Brynjolf set his son down on the floor and watched him run back to where the two older girls and the fox were playing. He felt himself being observed, and looked behind him to see Sayma smiling at him. He approached her, not quite certain what to say.
“Hello, Bryn,” she said, saving him the embarrassment of being wordless. “You’re looking well. I’m glad to hear Roggi’s opinion.”
“Thank you,” he said, wondering how much to add. “I was feeling pretty restless. You know I never wanted to run the Guild. I’m glad he brought me along.”
She stepped closer, and lowered her voice. “You’re still the best choice for the job, Brynjolf, but I understand. But… I’m getting the feeling that not everything went smoothly.”
“No, it didn’t. But it’s not really for me to say. It’s Roggi.”
“Alright. I’ll wait for him.”
“How do you happen to be here?”
“That’s also a very long tale, and I’ll share it when we’re all ready. I don’t want to have to relive it more than once.”
She surprised him by reaching out and giving his hand a quick squeeze. Before he could respond in any way she had moved away, to continue helping with food, to speak to Dardeh, and to talk to the children.
It’s something to do with her. That’s what I was missing, before. I don’t know what it is, still.
Mealtime came and went, noisily and happily, and Brynjolf smiled often watching Roggi and Dardeh together. Their eyes followed each other whenever one of them moved. They touched, briefly but often, and it seemed as though the touches lingered long past the moments they ended. It’s true, he thought. He wasn’t exaggerating. This man, Sayma’s brother; he’s Roggi’s life. I can’t imagine how it happened, but it’s obvious that it did. They are as bound together as any two people I’ve ever known. That’s why Roggi will follow him to war if it comes to that.
He would slip a glance at Sayma when she wasn’t looking. He watched her speaking to Lydia, the two of them poking fun at Roggi while Dardeh looked on with a mischievous grin and sometimes a deep, hearty laugh and while Roggi pretended to bluster but grinned like a fool. He found his gaze lingering on her, trying to memorize the lines of her new face, finding her familiar and yet strange at the same time. He remembered doing the same sort of thing when he’d first brought her into the Guild, watching her make her way around the Cistern, and had to smile at himself.
How can she be Dagnell? She seems so different to me. I wonder what is going on, that she is here.
He watched the three children, playing together as if they had been born a family, the two older girls watching out for the young boy. He thought of Sayma’s harsh childhood, and what little he knew of Dardeh’s. He thought about Roggi, losing all that was left of his birth clan and having only this group before him, this gathered family, and he nodded across the table at his friend’s smile and chuckled at his jokes.
He’s right. Roggi’s right. We can’t let Sayma take wee Bryn back to Dawnstar. The torture chamber almost broke Roggi. My father almost broke me. And from what little I know, Dardeh and Sayma’s father is still trying to break them. We have to give these children a chance for something better.
He glanced at Lydia, over the top of a tankard, and noticed that she was quiet, perhaps thoughtful. What part does she play in all of this? She’s Dardeh’s housecarl. She cares for the children. They all trust her implicitly. But there’s something I’m not connecting, here, and I am beginning to think it involves her.
Finally they sat around the fire and began sharing their stories.
“I’ve been to Hammerfell and back,” Sayma began. “And more than that, on the way, but it’s too strange to describe. I have to return. I didn’t find what I was going there to retrieve. You were right, though, Dardeh,” she added, smiling at him. “That strange couple in the Reach. They were the ones who sent me on my way.”
“What were you going to retrieve?” Brynjolf asked her.
She looked across the floor at him, chewing on her lip as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to continue. Dardeh and Roggi looked at each other, but neither would look at him.
So they know, but they won’t say. Fair enough.
“Tell me, Sayma. You can’t bring up a thing like that and expect me to back down. You know me better than that.”
She chuckled. “Yes I do, Bryn. Alright. I went to see Nocturnal, after I left you in Riften. I’m on my way to find the Gray Cowl.”
“What? The Cowl? If you find that then…”
“Then Dynjyl will be freed, Bryn,” Roggi said. “We’ve heard the details and yes, that’s what she’s doing.”
There’s a chance? There’s truly a chance that we can bring him out of the Soul Cairn?
“So I have to go back,” Sayma said softly. “I made it as far as a little town, near the place the Cowl is kept. I know what things I need to do to find it. But it’s going to be some time yet.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Everyone stared at him.
“Bryn, you can’t really be thinking about…” she started to object.
“I’m coming with you.” He stared at her, daring her to contradict him. “Dynjyl is dead because of me. I’m coming with you.”
“Brynjolf,” Dardeh said quietly. “We heard the stories. You told us what happened. You hold no blame for that death.”
“I don’t care, Dardeh. It doesn’t matter what anyone says to me.” He caught Roggi’s gaze and held it. “You know what I’m talking about, my friend. I know you do. Tell them.” You know what I’m talking about because you still blame yourself for losing Briinda all those years ago. Tell them.
Roggi said nothing for a moment, trying to look defiant; but his posture crumbled by bits and he finally sighed. “Yes. Yes I do.”
He looked at Sayma, and Lydia, and finally at Dardeh. “We went to Windhelm, just as you asked. We saw Frina.”
Lydia spoke up first. “Who’s Frina?”
Roggi laughed, one burst of bitter laughter. “Frina,” he said slowly, “is the sister of my late wife.” He shot a look across the room at Dardeh. “I didn’t know she was anywhere near Skyrim. I hadn’t heard anything of her in more than ten years.”
“Oh but that’s wonderful, Roggi!” Lydia cried. “Part of your family is still here?”
He shook his head. “Former family. It was good to see her, of course, but…”
Dardeh frowned. “Did you see Ulfric?”
Roggi nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t, and looked at Brynjolf, silently begging for help.
“The lass was there talking to him when we got there. She’s on her way to do an errand for him, right now.”
“And?” Sayma asked.
“She’s delivering Ulfric’s war axe to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun.”
Lydia gasped. She turned from them and took a few steps away.
“Are you sure of this?” Dardeh had risen and was standing, looming over the room in spite of being nearly the shortest one there.
“Aye, lad,” Brynjolf told him softly. “We heard him say it twice. ‘Give the man my axe.’”
“It’s bad, Dar,” Roggi finally managed.
“By the Nine I’ll say it’s bad!” Dardeh boomed. “You know what this will mean, don’t you?”
“Maybe Balgruuf will be reasonable,” Roggi murmured.
It was silent for a moment. Then Lydia spoke.
“No,” she said. “He won’t be. He’ll never step back on Ulfric’s account. And especially not because of an ultimatum.”
“Damn it!” Dardeh exploded. “Damn it. If it’s to be war, then I can’t just sit back and let it happen around us, Roggi.”
“I know.”
“I’ll have to go to Windhelm, you know that.” Dardeh stared at Roggi as if he was the only person in the room.
“I know. And I’ll have to go with you.”
“No, Roggi, you can’t.”
“You can’t stop me, Dar.” His voice was quiet, in that tone that carried threat, and it was clear to Brynjolf that Dardeh recognized it as well. “It’s my decision to make, not yours.”
“And I…”
Everyone turned to stare at Lydia.
“I will have to return to Balgruuf. If war breaks out.”
“Lydia?” That was Sayma asking.
She smiled, sadly. “I would be very sad to leave you, Dar. I think you know how much. But I am sworn to Balgruuf, first. I can barely remember a time when he wasn’t in my life. I am a part of his household. I am one of his soldiers. I would have to return to him.”
Dardeh looked as though he’d been slapped across the face. “Lydia, no.”
Roggi sighed. “And we might then face each other in battle.”
This was it. This is what I was missing. I wasn’t considering Lydia. If there’s war, Roggi’s household falls apart.
And what happens to the children?
Brynjolf snorted. “Shor’s arse.”
Sayma looked at him and nodded. “Indeed.”
__
They stood in the kitchen area, trying to speak quietly while Dardeh, Roggi, and Lydia huddled together, mourning what might happen to the family they’d put together over the past years. Sayma nearly hissed at him.
“You can’t come with me, Brynjolf. It’s going to be too dangerous.”
He laughed. “You are playing with me, yes? After everything I’ve done in my lifetime, you’re going to tell me that it’s too dangerous? By the Eight, do you really think I care about that?”
She tried to turn away, and he grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her back toward him.
“Don’t do that, Bryn,” she growled, shaking free of his grasp.
“I’m sorry. But tell me you don’t still blame yourself for what happened to your friends. Coyle. And Daron. Just try to tell me that.”
Her eyes widened for a moment, and he could see that his words had stung. “That’s low, Bryn.”
“Aye. It is. I know it is. And it’s how I feel about Dynny, and Andante. I can’t do anything about Andante but I can at least do this for Dynjyl. I can at least help you with it.” He could see that he was getting nowhere fast, so he tried another tack. “Listen. She gave you the task because she didn’t know I was cured.”
Sayma snorted. “Yes she did, Brynjolf. You should know better than that. Of course she knew. But I’m the one left, the one who isn’t ‘whole’ as far as she’s concerned. And I’ll tell you this, Guildmaster,” she added, poking him in the chest, “it took every single one of my skills and some last-minute invention to get to Ben Erai from where I started out. I’ll tell you about it sometime but the point is that I have something to prove, too. I am good enough, and I’m going to prove it. Besides, it’s a desert, Bryn. It’s been a long time since I was a girl but I know how to deal with a desert. You don’t.”
“So you’ll teach me.”
“Brynjolf….” She tossed her hands up in frustration.
“Sayma. I want you to think about something. If war breaks out, well you know I’m neutral.”
“Yes. So am I.”
“But Roggi and Dardeh aren’t, and neither is Lydia.”
“And?”
He sighed. “What about the children?”
She stared at him as though he’d suddenly taken on Vampire Lord form before her eyes, and he nearly reached up to touch his own face.
“No.”
“Yes. If Lydia leaves… We can’t just leave the children here on their own. Let’s go and get this done, Sayma. If there are two of us it might go faster. And then we’ll come back and…”
“Maybe it won’t be war.”
Right. Just like maybe I’ll see Andante again.
“Maybe. But I think we need to prepare for the worst. We’ll figure something out.”
“Alright. Alright. We’ll leave in the morning.”
Brynjolf watched her return to the living area, give each of them a hug in turn. He could hear them talking quietly, all these people who loved each other in spite of what the world might do to them. And he fought the urge to break something.
Well. No sense in letting it get to me quite yet. I need to write to Delvin.