Dardeh stood for a moment in utter shock, silent, as the shell of his Dragon Aspect power dissipated. He still couldn’t quite believe what he had witnessed, and felt, and done. For that moment – only a heartbeat or two, but it felt much longer – he couldn’t move. Then he started shaking.
By the Nine. Roggi.
Dardeh whirled and looked behind him. His heart fell, as far and as fast as his heart had ever fallen. He felt as if his world had ended.
Roggi lay supine, his arms and legs splayed out to the sides and his face turned toward the circular half-wall enclosing the rooftop. When he’d fallen, Roggi had been on his side, motionless. Now he was on his back. Dardeh could see no sign of movement.
But he had to have moved to get onto his back, yes? He must have!
He rushed to Roggi’s side and stood for yet another moment that felt like a lifetime but was only the blink of an eye, looking down at him, willing him to turn his head, open his eye, just breathe – anything. There was nothing, nothing at all; and Dardeh knelt down, tears streaming down his face as they so often did, so easily. He reached out to touch Roggi, tentatively.
He can’t be gone. Please, Talos, let this man be alive, still. Please. I can’t live without him.
Just as his hand was about to touch Roggi’s face, Dardeh heard a sound. It was barely a whisper, but it was clearly a word.
“Dra-gon…”
His eyes flew open wide. He leaned over, closer to Roggi’s face.
“Roggi! Talk to me, my love. Tell me you’re still here. Stay with me!”
“I saw… a dragon.” His voice was feeble, and raspy – raspy the way Edwyn Wickham’s voice had been at the end. But it was his voice.
Dear gods he’s alive.
“Don’t move, sweetheart. Wait. I’ve got some potions. Hold on.” Dardeh dove into his pack, his heart pounding, and pulled out anything that might remotely be of any use – healing potions, stamina potions, even a bottle of skooma he’d picked up from the corpse of an Imperial who’d been stupid enough to attack them on the road. He opened the first one and gently turned Roggi’s head to face him, lifted his head just enough so that he could drink the potion without choking.
“Take this, Roggi. I have more. Please stay with me.”
Roggi drank the potion, although his eyelids kept sagging shut and then fluttering open again. Dardeh’s heart pounded and his hands shook as he opened another healing potion, this one the strongest he’d packed with him, and once more lifted Roggi’s head and trickled the liquid down into his mouth. Roggi didn’t open his eyes; but he did swallow, and Dardeh watched as slowly, ever so slowly, color began to creep back into his cheeks.
When the large flask was nearly empty, Roggi coughed and his eyes opened. It seemed for a moment that he wasn’t sure where he was, or who he was with, and Dardeh wailed inside to think that he might have lost his love even as he’d kept his body alive.
Then Roggi blinked a few times, and smiled. It was a weak smile, but it was a smile, nonetheless.
“Dar.”
Dardeh collapsed for a moment, sitting beside Roggi, sobbing with relief.
“What’s this then? Skooma? You going to take advantage of me or something?” Roggi’s voice was weak, but he chuckled anyway.
Dardeh choked out something that was supposed to be a laugh, but was too full of tears to sound it. “Well, it’s a stimulant. I thought it might help.”
Roggi cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’ll take a stamina or two if you have them, though. I feel a little weak.”
Dardeh handed Roggi all the useful potions he had and then rose and took a couple of steps away, struggling to get himself under control and silently breathing thanks to Talos that once again this hardy, wonderful man had cheated death. Even if it had been almost too late, he’d been there. For once, he’d been there in time. He scrubbed his eyes dry with the back of his hands and turned to find Roggi sitting up.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, not quite able to meet Roggi’s gaze. “I think I might have thrown myself right off this roof if you hadn’t made it.”
“I saw a dragon,” Roggi repeated.
Dardeh shook his head in confusion. “No dragon, not that I saw. I would have noticed, trust me. I did have Dragon Aspect going. Maybe that’s what you saw? You were pretty much out of it after Edwyn…” He growled, in spite of himself.
“Wait. What happened to Edwyn?”
Dardeh shook his head, pondering. It was going to be hard to explain, truly.
That… thing he did. That blood disc. It was killing him. He was already hurt. I saw his hands – they had huge red gashes across the palms. He couldn’t fight with a weapon, not even a conjured weapon. And when he cast that spell; even that much was agonizing for him. I could see it in his eyes and on his face. Whatever that spell was, it was killing him. When he spoke, his voice was dry, hoarse – like a draugr’s voice. Like the voice of a soul that died a very long time ago.
“Do you remember the thing he cast at you?”
Roggi shuddered. He nodded; then he reached for another healing potion and drank it. “Yeah I do. It felt like my blood was being taken from me. It also felt like the worst sword wound I’ve ever had – slicing through me. But it seemed to be hurting him, too. What was that thing?”
“I don’t know, but I think it was getting wider because your blood was adding to his. That’s the best theory I have. By the time I reacted he hardly had a voice left. He sounded like he’d pulled out almost all of the blood in his body to attack you.”
It was quiet for a moment.
“You had a voice, Dardeh.”
“Yes. I did.”
“You sounded like a dragon.”
Dardeh nodded. “No doubt. I was – angrier than I can ever remember being. I guess I taunted him.”
“You sounded like Alduin, Dar.”
Dardeh’s gaze snapped to hold Roggi’s, and he stared. “What do you mean by that?”
Roggi closed his eyes again for a moment, and sagged; and Dardeh panicked, thinking that he hadn’t really been saved after all. But Roggi just took a deep breath and spoke quietly.
“It was deeper than anything I’ve ever heard, Dar. It sounded like your voice but with all of the dragons we’ve ever fought all added in. Big. Huge. I’m surprised he was able to stand there and talk back to you. I was terrified, when you asked him whether he knew his time was at an end.”
Dardeh felt a shock run through him.
“Roggi.”
“Yeah?”
“I told him that in Dovahzul.”
“Ok, sure. But that’s what you said. I heard the whole thing. I would have wet myself if you’d been saying it to me.”
“I thought you didn’t understand Dovahzul.”
Roggi looked up at him and smiled. “And I thought you were making it up when you said you’d been to Sovngarde and met Ysgramor. I don’t know, Dar. All I can say is that I know what you told him.” He frowned. “Where…?”
Dardeh sighed, and inclined his head backward toward the large pile of shimmering ash on the rooftop. “He was half dead already by the time I Shouted at him.”
“So he’s really gone.” Roggi was silent for a long moment, and then nodded. “Help me up? I’m still a bit weak.”
Dardeh guffawed. “A bit weak, says the man who was a breath or two away from going to Sovngarde himself.” He reached out his hand and pulled Roggi up. It was clear that it would need some time, lots of rest, and the best of care before he would do any dragon slaying again.
Roggi smiled. “I’m a little tired, Dardeh. I might need to take some time off once we get Ulfric safely under that crown he’s supposed to have. But I told you, it’ll take more than that to get rid of me.”
He leaned forward, and Dardeh found himself on the receiving end of the sweetest kiss he could ever remember having experienced. He lost himself in it for a moment and then pulled away as he felt Roggi begin to tremble.
“Are you ok?”
Roggi nodded, and smiled. “Yeah. I’m kind of weak. I figured I’d be ok, though. You can always use that tail of yours to balance for both of us.”
Dardeh stared at him.
That… what? He thinks I have a …tail?
He stared at Roggi, trying to formulate words into some kind of coherent question. He was just about to open his mouth when another voice broke his train of thought completely.
“What? Shor’s bones!”
He whirled just in time to see two figures shimmer into existence at the edge of the rooftop.
___
Brynjolf and Agryn both pulled the shadows in around themselves as they climbed the slopes up from the shore, to reach the base of the College’s precarious bridge to the mainland. Agryn had assured him that he and Vyctyna had entered this way any number of times to check in with Edwyn.
I surely have enough magic right now to fake it as a scholar coming to the library, I suppose. Who could ever have imagined it? Surely not Da.
The bridge was empty of mages or guards at the moment, which he found a bit strange; but Brynjolf was grateful for it. They made their way to the central courtyard and crossed it carefully, avoiding the two guards circling around its perimeter. Agryn led the way into the Hall of the Elements and then tugged on Brynjolf’s arm, leading him to the right and up the stairs toward the Arcanaeum.
“He’s usually up here badgering Urag gro-Shub for more information when he’s here,” Agryn whispered as he faded back into visibility. “If he’s not here, he’s in his quarters.”
“I hope he’s somewhere that we can get the drop on him,” Brynjolf murmured. “I don’t want a long battle with him and I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
He heard voices as they neared the top of the circular stair. Agryn heard them, too; he tapped Brynjolf on the arm and cupped a hand behind an ear. Brynjolf nodded and focused on the sound, which grew clearer as they neared.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Urag,” the woman whined, her voice nasal and abrasive. “What’s happened?”
“Uh, nothing really. The Archmage is having words with some visitors. He let me know that I was to back off. I guess I got a little rattled.”
“Where are they? And why were you rattled?”
“I, uh, didn’t remember his eyes being yellow. I thought they were grey. It kind of, well, set me back a bit.”
“Hmm. They are grey. At least I thought so, when he came to buy some spells from me. Where’d you say they went?”
“I didn’t, but I think they went up on the roof. I think we should stay put. If they haven’t come down again pretty soon I’ll send some of the guards up there to check.”
“Right. No need for us to go putting ourselves in harm’s way. The Archmage has some pretty nasty spells.”
Agryn pointed across the way at the darkened stairwells, and became invisible again. Brynjolf followed suit.
He was happy that it was a cloudy morning, when they emerged onto the roof of the College. Even so, he squinted into the light for a moment, his eyes watering as he scanned the area for signs of life.
On the far side of the tower he saw the familiar forms of Dardeh and Roggi, engaged in a kiss. He had a moment of amusement, seeing that, even though he was a bit concerned that Roggi seemed a bit unsteady on his feet. Then his eyes fell to the tower roof between him and them. And his mouth followed suit.
There were several piles on the rooftop; it was Winterhold, after all, and snow regularly accumulated there in spite of the always-brisk, sometimes-brutal winds. Near the center, though, was something different. It was a sizeable pile of shimmering, pinkish ash.
“What? Shor’s bones!”
Brynjolf moved across the space and knelt before the ash pile, reaching out to gingerly run his fingers through the ash. He was certain he knew whose ashes they were, and yet it was confirmed for him when he could sense the man’s energy still lingering there. He felt his throat tighten for a moment, remembering similar piles of bright red ash, one that he’d been glad to see and the other which had broken his heart.
He rose, slowly, shaking his head.
“So you found him first,” he said.
“More like he found us,” Dardeh said.
“We just happened to be in the area,” Roggi added. “We were on our way back to talk to Ulfric about some of the other Jarls. We should be in good shape for the Moot.”
Brynjolf peered at Roggi. His voice sounds weak to me.
“That’s good to know. Are you alright, lad?”
Dardeh snorted. “He’s pretty good for a guy who was about two heartbeats away from dying. It’s like we all figured. Edwyn wanted my blood and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He ended up paying the price and he almost took Roggi with him.”
“Eh,” Roggi said, waving off their concerns. “I had a dragon save me.”
“So he’s gone,” Brynjolf repeated quietly, shaking his head.
“Yeah. Good riddance,” Dardeh growled. “It’ll be better for the College to have someone in charge whose mind isn’t warped.”
“And who isn’t trying to take over the world,” Agryn murmured from somewhere behind them. Brynjolf glanced at him; he was staring off into the distance, but not really focusing on anything, as far as he could tell. He moved to stand in front of Agryn.
“Are you alright?”
Agryn nodded. “Yes. He had to die. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t… sad. He was my friend, Brynjolf. For longer than all of the mortal lives in this building put together, he was my friend.” He looked at the pile of ash and sighed. “Once, he was a good man. Even as vampire, he was a good man. He only killed if he was ordered to, or if it was absolutely necessary. He only took as much blood as he needed to survive.”
“I’m sorry, lad.”
“Don’t be. He wasn’t right, any more. That good man died a long time ago now. I’ll be fine, as long as I have Vyctyna. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad,” he repeated quietly.
Brynjolf nodded. He stood staring at the ash pile himself, for several moments, feeling as bleak as he could remember feeling – except for that morning when he’d found that Dagnell had left him.
“Bryn?”
He sighed and turned to face Roggi.
“What is it?”
Roggi swallowed hard. “It’s a bit startling to see you with those eyes.”
“Oh! Damn,” Brynjolf said. “You didn’t know. Of course you didn’t know.” He shook his head. “It was already underway when we all talked at the house. I didn’t dare say anything.”
“We would have stopped you, somehow.”
Brynjolf nodded. “I know. So I waited. And then I went to Volkihar Castle. I didn’t know how it was going to be and I didn’t want you or anyone else getting hurt if it went sideways. But they were all with us. Edwyn Wickham killed one of the oldest and best-respected vampires in Tamriel and they weren’t having it. That’s why Agryn and I are here now. We were going to take care of him.” His face fell.
“And he took care of himself,” Roggi murmured. “Dar’s fire breath was what took him out in the end, but he had weakened himself with a spell.” He shuddered. “He really did almost kill me.”
“He was already hurt when he got here,” Dardeh said quietly. “I don’t know how, but it was obvious.” He looked at Agryn and frowned. “You were there that night, weren’t you? The night Rayya died. I recognize your voice.”
Agryn winced, and then nodded. “I’m sorry, Dardeh. I was following Lord Wickham’s orders. I didn’t expect anyone at all to be hurt, much less die.” He shook his head. “I thought it was a bad idea to begin with but, well, I followed him for so long. I thought he must know what he was doing.”
Dardeh stared at him for a long time, the muscles in his jaws working. “You know I should kill you for that. Rayya died because of you, in a real sense.”
“But you won’t, lad,” Brynjolf said quietly. “Because it would be a real shame if you and I had to fight each other.”
It was dead silent for a moment as they all stared at each other. Don’t fight me, Dardeh. We have no reason to fight. He kept projecting the thought toward Dardeh’s odd-colored eyes until finally Dardeh blinked, and heaved a heavy sigh, turning away from them.
“Sayma would never forgive either one of you,” Roggi said.
“She’s not going to forgive me anyway, Roggi,” Brynjolf said, shrugging.
Roggi’s eyes widened. “Oh. Damn.”
Brynjolf nodded. It’s going to be a very long eternity. Very, very long.
“All I can do is apologize, Dardeh,” Agryn said. “And remove myself. Brynjolf, I’m heading back. Will you be, um, taking over?”
Both Dardeh and Roggi stared at him. “Taking… over?” Roggi’s voice sounded weak, but his curiosity was strong.
Brynjolf shook his head. “Assuming command. Lord of the Volkihar. I’m the next male in line because of Vitus. They’re all ready and waiting for me.” He smiled at Agryn. “But, no. Not me. Tell Serana it’s hers. I’ll check in occasionally. If she needs me I’ll come, but I have other responsibilities, as you know.”
Agryn gave him a small smile. “And you know where we’ll be. We’re not going to stay there at the castle. Well then, I’ll be off. Take care, Dragonborn. For what it’s worth, I’m really glad that you survived this.”
Dardeh didn’t smile, but he did nod at Agryn. Agryn nodded back, and then shimmered out of sight and disappeared. Brynjolf wondered whether or not he would ever see the Breton and his partner again. It was likely that he would, if they moved into the Crypt; but for all he knew they would avoid him, and the association he would forever have for them with the ending of Edwyn Wickham.
“I guess you two ought to go see Ulfric,” Brynjolf said, turning back to Roggi and Dardeh. “I’ll be glad to hear when everything is settled.”
“What are you going to do, brother?” Roggi asked gently. “It’s more than a little unsettling to think of you as the leader of the Volkihar, I have to admit.”
Brynjolf couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “No doubt. What do you think?” He pulled back his lips to expose his fangs for a moment and chuckled as Roggi’s face went pale.
“By Ysmir, Bryn. Put those things away!”
Brynjolf chuckled again and nodded. “Good idea.” He gathered magic, flicking his hand out to the side and casting his illusion spell. “Better?”
Roggi blew out a breath. “Much. I don’t know which was worse, seeing your fangs or seeing Dar with a tail, horns, and wings.”
Brynjolf shot Dardeh a confused glance. Dardeh shook his head.
“Roggi was very near to death after Edwyn got done with him, Bryn. I’m not sure what it is that he saw.”
Well I don’t know what to think. But I do know that these two need time to rest. And I need time. I guess I have all the time in the world, now.
“Alright. I’m going to head home. Or, at least, to Honeyside. I… need to think.”
Roggi nodded. “Take care of yourself, Bryn. And if you need anything come see us.”
“I hope to see you soon.”
He gathered the darkness in around him and made his way toward the College’s towers. Dardeh and Roggi would need to decide what to do about Edwyn Wickham’s ashes. He wanted nothing more to do with the man.
___
He paced the deck until he was afraid there would be a permanent groove in it. He wanted nothing more than to return to the lodge in the pass, to gather Sayma up into his arms and tell her that it was over now, that they were all safe and that the four of them – he, Sayma, Chip and Qaralana – could go back to being a normal family.
A normal family of thieves and assassins. But a family, nevertheless.
My family.
But Sayma could only barely endure his presence. He’d stopped there, at their home, to tell her that he was safely back and she’d shrunk away from him with tears standing in her eyes.
He couldn’t blame her, really. Even though she’d only been raised by her parents for a few years, she was a Redguard. Childhood lessons stayed burned into your soul forever; he was proof enough of that, always telling himself how badly he failed at everything. And Redguards abhorred the undead.
She’d told him about her experience in Coldharbour, once; how the waters surrounding the island pulled at a living being, draining the life from her like a vampire drained its victims. He’d been hard pressed to find anything to say to that, because, after all, that was exactly what he did when he wasn’t being careful to keep his victims alive. He was not always careful. Andante – Vitus – had been worse.
I had to do it. Didn’t I? That was how it looked at the time.
Edwyn had to be stopped and I was the only one who could infiltrate Volkihar and coordinate things with Serana.
He frowned. He had been wrong about that. Serana had wanted Edwyn killed; that was clear enough. But couldn’t she have recruited one of the others to help her do it? Garan Marethi, Fura, or even Orthjolf? They’d all been willing to line up behind the cause when it was time to push Edwyn out; and yet it was he, Brynjolf, who she’d come to asking for help.
He turned and paced the deck again.
Maybe not. They were all pretty loyal to Harkon when he was there, and to Vitus for that little time we were there, although less so. They were likely loyal to Edwyn until he killed Vingalmo. Face it, as strong as he was, Vitus didn’t waste any charisma on the Volkihar the way Edwyn did. He was far too focused on me. And he never showed his power the way Edwyn did by killing Vingalmo. They were probably drawn to Edwyn’s authority just as they bowed to Harkon’s.
Just as we all bowed to Mercer Frey for so many years.
I had no way beforehand to know all the rest of them were against Edwyn too. Neither did Serana. We were both working on what information we had at hand.
But it didn’t matter, in the end. He had turned, with Serana’s help. He had done so because he wanted to be the one with power, the one to save the day, the one to take over the leadership of the clan and add that jewel to the crown of power he’d been building all these years.
Face it. I wanted this. I wanted to be a vampire again. I was Guildmaster. I was a Nightingale. I had been high up in the power structure of the Volkihar and I wanted that, too. Maybe I just used Edwyn Wickham as an excuse. I don’t know.
But I want Sayma more. I want my family. And she tried. I could see how much she wanted us to be together. She just can’t overcome her fear.
“Damn it!” He struck out with one arm and the tankard that had been resting on the porch railing sailed out well over the waters of the lake before splashing into it with a glug. “It doesn’t matter what in Oblivion I want or don’t want. I’m stuck, now. Nobody needed me to become a vampire again. He’s dead, and I’m going to be apart from my family forever because there’s no way to cure this.”
He went back inside and stumped down over the stairs, kicking off his boots and tearing himself out of his armor. He tossed himself onto the bed and closed his eyes, muttering “Damn it” every so often. He hadn’t really expected to fall asleep, but before long his mind quieted and the world went dark around him.
He’d been exhausted. Tired from all the running, worn out from all the stress of worrying about Lord Edwyn Wickham, weary of the bad dreams and the self-doubt. He was more than weary of the non-stop politics. If it wasn’t the Civil War and its aftermath, it was Maven Black-Briar and the continual struggle with trade, and the business of the Guild. And now there was this: the wear and tear of transformation on his body, and the soul-crushing burden of knowing he would never be himself again.
He slept. But even as he slept he thrashed from side to side, his dreams not allowing him the sweet escape of oblivion.
“There is a way, you know.”
Brynjolf snapped up to a sitting position, his heart pounding, and looked at the figure perched on the edge of the bed beside him. His mouth opened in disbelief; his heart pounded. And his eyes began to fill.
“By the Eight, lad. How is it that you are here?” he managed to choke out.
The smiling eyes that sparkled at him were neither the vivid blue nor the vibrant gold that Brynjolf remembered, but sparkle they did. “I’m not, really,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “You’re having a dream, and this is the only way I can talk to you besides warming up that jar in your bedroom. But I’m still awfully glad to see you again, loverboy. You’re still just as beautiful as I remember. More, actually. I wish I could hold you.”
“Andante, you have no idea how much I have wanted to see you again,” Brynjolf whispered. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I mean Vitus.”
The man looked around the room and smiled. “It’s fine. You can call me Andante, here in this place. This is where I was Andante. I’m never really very far away, you know. I may be part of the Evergloam now but that’s why I’m always with you. Walk with the shadows, and all that.” He chuckled. “Two children now. You’ve been busy. That’s the Brynjolf I know and love.”
“Well, yes. But it doesn’t do me much good if I can’t watch them grow up,” he muttered.
“Why did you do it, Bryn?”
“What, have another child? It just kind of happened, when, you know…”
Andante laughed. “That’s not what I meant, loverboy. I know how babies are made; that’s why I was always very careful to avoid such an error.” His expression grew more serious. “No. Why did you turn again? I wanted you to be with your family. I really wanted that for you.”
Brynjolf sighed, staring at the face he’d once thought would be the only one he would see when he closed his eyes. “I know, lad. I did too, at least once I got over being angry that you left me. But you know I love being a vampire. You know that. There is so much about it that makes me feel…”
Andante nodded. “Strong. Maybe even invincible. I know. I felt that way about it, too. You’re a magnificent vampire, Bryn. More than I could ever have imagined. So you have to decide, loverboy. Do you want your family? Or do you want to be the Lord of the Volkihar? You can’t have both, not unless Sayma is a vampire too. You know that.”
“That will never happen. But that’s why I’m so upset, lad. I don’t really have a decision to make, not any more. Falion is dead, and I’ll be a vampire forever. And as much as I love the way it makes me feel, it was a stupid decision. They didn’t need me.”
Andante swung his legs up onto the bed and sighed, peering at Brynjolf’s face. “They always will need you, Brynjolf. Just as I needed you. You don’t seem to understand that. Sayma needs you. Your children need you. But listen to me. There is a way. You can be human again and you need to do it.”
“But we killed Falion.”
“Correction. I killed Falion. And I’m telling you there is still a way. Pay attention. You will need to find … College … Old books. Legends. … done before.”
Brynjolf frowned. He knew it was a dream that he was in, but his dream wasn’t making any sense.
“What do you mean, lad?”
“…formula. I will….” Andante’s lips moved but his voice was intermittently fading away to nothing. He smiled, and nodded, and then sighed. “I love you, Brynjolf.”
He started to fade away. Brynjolf wanted to reach for him, hold him, but he knew that it was just a dream and he wouldn’t be able to do so.
“I love you, too, lad. Don’t forget.”
Andante smiled again, and then disappeared.
Much later Brynjolf woke, sat up, and looked around the room, shaking his head. After the dream he’d slept deeply, and felt thoroughly rested. Nonetheless, he was confused.
“What did he mean? Is there a cure? Is that what it was? Something about the College and alchemy.”
There was only one way he could think of to find out whether such a thing existed, and it was going to require him to make a trip back to where he’d just been. It was time to assert his status as Guildmaster. Enthir might well think him crazy when he asked for information on a cure for vampirism, but if it was important enough for Andante to come to him from the Evergloam, he would make the trip. First, he needed to check in at the Guild, and make certain that everything was going smoothly.
He stopped and shook his head, and chuckled.
“Maybe I am crazy. Maybe it was just a dream, and that’s all that it was.”
He walked up the stairs and opened the chest where he stored blood potions, pulling one out and downing it with a satisfied sigh. It wouldn’t do to be hungry in the presence of all his subordinates. They would bow to his influence as readily as the Volkihar had bowed to Edwyn’s, and he really didn’t want that.
They follow me because they want to, not because they must. Isn’t that what Vitus said to me once?
He cast his illusion spell and stepped out into the day, making his way briskly across the city and down the stairs to the Ratway.