They’d gone inside after realizing that Brynjolf didn’t have what he needed. He needed to go inside, he’d said. He had to get out of the sun.
He and Dardeh sat on the floor, in front of the fire, talking. Roggi couldn’t seem to sit still; he wandered back and forth between them and the tanning rack in the entryway, keeping his hands and his body busy.
“I can’t believe this. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I knew it.”
“Don’t give up, Brynjolf. You still have a place. To hear it said,” Dardeh murmured, “there have been lots of people in high places who were vampires. Not here, so much, not necessarily. But I’ve heard stories about Cyrodiil…”
“No, Dardeh,” Brynjolf interrupted. “It’s not like that. I appreciate what you’re trying to do but… It’s one thing to ignore the fact that someone in a court has a nighttime habit, the way they did in Cyrodiil in the old days. It’s another thing to be married to a vampire.” He sighed. “She said she’ll get old and die and I’ll still look like this. And she’s right. And our children, too; they’ll grow up and have lives of their own and everyone will wonder why their da never ages.” He shook his head again. “I made a mistake. I’ve done it more than once. I should just take a lesson from Vitus and…”
“Nid.”
The room around him vibrated. He looked up to find Dardeh shaking his head, glaring at him.
“You just told me…”
“He said ‘no,’ Bryn,” Roggi said quietly from beyond the doorway. “And if I could speak dragon I’d say the same thing. You’re not going to stand in the sun and let yourself be taken. You’re just not. I won’t allow it.”
“And besides,” Dardeh rumbled. “If every person who made a bad mistake decided to give up, there’d be hardly anyone left.”
“But what would you have me do, you two?” Brynjolf wailed, in spite of himself, standing and walking to the entryway, watching Roggi patiently tearing down leather into strips.
“I would have you wait,” Roggi said calmly. “Something will happen. Wait. Like I waited. It was worth it, even though I thought at the time that the world was going to end and me along with it. I had no reason to wait. I hated myself so much, Bryn. But I waited. And I met you, and I met Sayma. And I met Dar. This was why I was meant to hold on. And there’s a reason for you to wait, too. I don’t know what that reason is but you’ll know it when it happens.”
“My Ma,” Dardeh said, “used to talk to me a lot. When she was alive, of course; but also after she died. I heard her voice a lot. ‘Be patient, Dar,’ she would say. ‘You’ll know it when the time is right.’ I didn’t always believe her, but she was right.” He turned back to Brynjolf. “You’ll know why eventually, Bryn. I know you will. Talos doesn’t let things happen for no reason.”
Brynjolf snorted. “Well that’s fine for those of you who worship Talos. I’m not a believer, lad. I don’t care about gods one way or another.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dardeh told him. “You’ll still know. Besides, I think it must be Sayma you’re meant to be here for. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have found her in Dawnstar.”
“We’ll figure something out, Brynjolf,” Roggi said. “There have to be more strong vampires in the world than just the late Edwyn Wickham.”
Brynjolf nodded slowly, thinking.
All that time in between, and we still managed to get back together, the lass and I. It’s like I told her. She completes me. She still does. He’s right. We’ll figure something out. It’s just that I thought I could fix this, quickly, and put it behind us like all the other stupid mistakes we’ve made.
“Alright, then. You’re right. I need to not go off without knowing which end is up. And maybe I can still do some good in the world, even if this is my state.”
“Of course you can,” Roggi said in that tone of voice that meant no arguments were to be had.
Dardeh opened his mouth as if to speak; but he was interrupted by the sound of pounding on the door. Roggi stopped what he was doing and opened it; a courier stood outside, panting, and looked them over. He pulled a scroll out of his knapsack and cleared his throat.
“I assume you’re Roggi Knot-Beard?” he said, looking at Roggi.
Roggi raised one eyebrow and stroked his beard, while Brynjolf and Dardeh snickered.
“That would be me.”
“I have a missive here for your hands only. From the High King.” He handed the parchment to Roggi, who took it in what suddenly appeared to be trembling hands. Roggi and Dardeh stared at each other in stunned silence for a moment. Brynjolf handed the courier a small pouch of coins and then ushered him on his way, and the others back inside.
Then, as if the meaning of the moment had finally registered, Dardeh whooped.
“We did it! We did it! Open it up, Roggi, and see what he says. They’ve finally done it and had the Moot!”
Roggi held the scroll next to his heart for a moment, his eyes closed.
He’s been working toward this for a long, long time, through good times and bad. This is his victory too, and Dardeh’s.
He slowly opened them, and smiled. “Yes. Let’s see what he says.”
Roggi broke the seal on the scroll and scanned it, the grin on his face growing as his eyes moved down the page. He got to the bottom and looked up at them, eyes twinkling.
“It says: ‘To Roggi Knot-Beard and Dardeh at-Dadarh, your presence is requested and required at the Palace of the Kings, in Windhelm, Eastmarch, at your earliest possible convenience.’ And it is signed: Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Eastmarch and High King of Skyrim.”
He raised his head and grinned again. “He’s done it. The bastard has finally done it. He’s High King.”
“That’s great news, lad,” Brynjolf said. “I think you two had better get yourselves ready to go, in that case, don’t you? You don’t just ignore a summons from the king.”
“What are you talking about, Brynjolf?” Dardeh said. “You’re coming with us. No questions asked. I’m sure he wants to see you as well. You were a big part of this, too.”
Roggi nodded. “No arguments, Bryn.”
“Yeah,” Dardeh said. “No arguments. Roggi has ways of making people do things the way he wants.” He winked at Roggi, and then turned toward the door, heading outside, bellowing. “Lydia!”
___
There was a quiet knock on the door. Sayma looked up from her book and smiled.
Thank the gods. I’m so glad she’s here.
“Come in!”
The door opened quietly, just enough for a slight figure in the darkest possible armor to slip into the room and close it quietly behind her. It was very much like her, to be aware of the possibility of waking a sleeping infant even without being told so; and Sayma smiled again, grateful for her presence and her easy consideration.
“Sayma. How are you doing? Is everything well with the baby?”
Sayma motioned to the chair beside her and waited while Karliah took a seat.
“Thank you so much for coming, Karliah. The baby’s fine. She’s growing so fast that when she goes down for a nap she sleeps very deeply.”
“Unlike her father, I take it, then.” Karliah chuckled. “I’ve never known anyone to sleep as little as he does. Even when he was a child he was always on alert, as though he expected something to come out of the dark at any time and was going to protect us all from it, whatever it was.”
Sayma frowned. “Yes, she’s very much unlike her father in that way.”
“But I can see that while the baby is well, you are not,” Karliah prompted softly. “Is that why you wanted to see me?”
Sayma nodded. “I just don’t have anyone else to talk to, Karliah; and you know so much more about so many things than I do. It’s Brynjolf. I don’t know what to do about him.”
She hadn’t known what to expect from Karliah’s visit, not really. Some comforting advice, perhaps; some light conversation, maybe. A little bit of fellowship as Nightingales who had both survived the same upheaval, the same desperate fights, and the same restoration of peace. That’s what she had hoped for from the woman who had helped deliver her second child; because, she realized, she had nobody else to turn to.
So it came as a great shock to her when Karliah nodded. “I see. You don’t know what to do about the fact that he has returned to being a vampire.”
Sayma’s mouth fell open. “How. Did you know that?”
Karliah smiled. “Don’t worry. He hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s not as though he forgot to disguise himself and came to the Cistern brandishing his fangs. He’s done an admirable job of keeping things as normal as possible, actually.”
“Then how?”
“I was in Nightingale Hall one night and happened to emerge just as three people were meeting, down beside the lake. Two of them I recognized only vaguely. They have been in the Ragged Flagon before, they’re both obviously vampires to anyone who knows what to look for, and they both seem pleasant enough people aside from that small detail.”
Sayma nodded, speechless.
Karliah continued. “I maneuvered myself a bit closer when light on the third person’s hair revealed it to be red. It was clearly Brynjolf. And his eyes were a vivid, glowing copper shade.”
“That was him, alright.”
“So he revealed himself to you as well.”
“Well, inadvertently,” she said. “I’d kicked him out of the house, Karliah, because I was angry that he was even thinking about turning again.” She told Karliah about the discussion they’d had with Ulfric, Frina, Dardeh and Roggi, and what Brynjolf had threatened to do. “I was just so angry at him. It took us two years to get back together.”
Karliah nodded. “And whose fault was that, Sayma?” she said gently. “You need to remember that he thought you were gone forever, possibly deceased. He was doing what he could to safeguard the future of the Guild. It was a difficult time for him.”
Sayma buried her head in her hands. “I know. And I know it was my fault. But it was past us. We’d gotten through it and were back together and…” She sighed. “At any rate, he came to tell me he had business elsewhere, and he kissed me, and that was when I realized he’d done it after all.” She lifted her head and frowned at Karliah. “There’s no mistaking those fangs.”
“I’m certain of it,” Karliah said.
“And then he showed me. His eyes, the way he looks, the whole thing. He’s… I don’t even know how to say it.”
“Attractive? Vampires tend to be either hideous or beautiful. I don’t know what makes the outcome different for different people.”
Sayma nodded. “Yes. Beautiful. I was overwhelmed. But he stepped near me and I panicked, and he left, and, well. I haven’t heard anything since then and I just don’t know what to do.”
“What do you want to do?” Karliah asked gently.
What do I want to do? I don’t know. I want us to wrap around each other the way we’ve always done. I want to see him hold his daughter, and play with his son, and tell them stupid jokes the way he does. I want to hear him laugh. I want to watch him sleeping.
I want us to be normal again.
“I want him to come home, so that we can work it out together. But I’m going to get old, and wrinkled, and ugly, and he’s always going to be this beautiful creature. He’ll leave me.”
Karliah sighed. “That is what Gallus said to me, at first.”
Sayma’s gaze snapped up to meet Karliah’s. “What are you talking about?”
Karliah smiled. “Sayma, mer are very long-lived compared to men. It is inevitable, if there is love between a human and a mer; one of them will grow old much more quickly than the other, relatively speaking. If not for Mercer Frey’s treachery Gallus might have lived to be an old man. He would have been stooped, and gray, and his voice might have begun to quaver, and I would have remained as I am now, more or less, with only a few changes as years went by.”
She leaned forward and took one of Sayma’s hands in her own. “And I would have loved him just as much, regardless, for whatever time we had together.”
Sayma felt her eyes filling.
I watched them say goodbye to each other. I should have known better.
“I’m sorry, Karliah. I feel so selfish now.”
“Don’t be sorry. I will see him again, one day. But know this: Brynjolf loves you. I never saw him make a real commitment to anyone before he met you. He had his share of flirtations over the years, even a few that lasted awhile; but he always found an excuse to end up on his own before he met you. And you, he married. Obviously he loves the way you look now but remember that he also loved you before you changed your face. If your appearance was the most important thing to him, he might well have rejected you when you came back into his life. He didn’t do that.”
Sayma felt the shock of recognition run through her. In the next moment, she felt even worse.
“You’re right. I’ve been stupid, haven’t I?”
“Not stupid. Just human, and uncertain of your own worth.” Karliah let go her hand and smiled more broadly. “And you must never doubt your own worth, Sayma. You’ve accomplished a great deal since you arrived in Skyrim, including marrying one of the most slippery scoundrels I’ve ever known.”
Sayma laughed. Slippery scoundrel, eh? I’ll have to remember that one.
“So where is he now?” Karliah asked.
Sayma felt the worry start to gnaw at her gut again. “That’s just it. I don’t know. He was heading to the Solitude area; but that was a long time ago now and I haven’t heard anything from him. I can’t leave the children and, well, I am worried.”
Karliah’s brows knit together. “Hmm. I wonder if he’s been involved in all the major things happening in the north. It wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
“What things? I’ve been here. I haven’t heard.”
She spent the next while listening while Karliah brought her up to date. The Archmage had died, according to Enthir; Tolfdir was the acting Archmage. All of the Jarls and their retinues had been seen converging on Ivarstead.
“And I assume, though I haven’t heard an official announcement, that Ulfric is now the High King.”
“Oh!” Sayma’s mind started racing. “He said he was heading for Solitude first because he had some business that had to do with defeating Edwyn Wickham. By the gods, Karliah, you don’t think he was killed, do you?”
Karliah chuckled. “No. I am sure that if anything had happened to Brynjolf while the Archmage was being dispatched, Enthir would have known about it. He would have sent word. I don’t know what that signifies for what has happened since then, but I’m certain he’s alive.” She smiled a crooked smile. “Besides that, I’m sure that Nocturnal would have let us know. If something happens to jeopardize the security of the Ebonmere – such as losing one of its guardians – we all know about it. I’ve sensed that our Lady is, shall we say, perturbed at Brynjolf’s actions, but not that anything critical has happened to him.”
Sayma relaxed a bit.
“Alright. I won’t panic. Maybe it’s fine. Probably it’s fine.”
Qaralana started to cry from the bedroom. Sayma and Karliah looked at each other and giggled.
“It’s fine, Sayma. Your child is healthy and it’s fine.”
“That’s the other thing, Karliah. I don’t think I’ve told you about what happened with the dragon.”
Karliah’s eyebrows rose. “A dragon?”
Sayma nodded. “Yes. Let me get the baby and I’ll tell you.”
A while later, they were seated on the porch, watching Chip run around in the grass and play with rocks while Sayma fed Qaralana. Sayma waited until the baby was mostly settled again before she started speaking quietly.
“I was in Dragonbridge, before the baby arrived, on business. A dragon attacked the town, and I helped kill it. I stood well back,” she said, grinning at Karliah’s concerned expression. “I wasn’t about to risk this little one. But this is where it got weird. After it died, I got up close to it to see if I could pull any of my arrows out of its hide, and it… it burned.”
“Do you mean the way your brother burns them?”
Sayma nodded. “Yes. He absorbs their power. I know this, you see, because I was with him once when he and Roggi killed one of them. And when Dar absorbed its power, well how do I put this.” She chewed on her lip a moment, trying to think of the least-insane way she could describe what had happened. “Some of it came to me.”
Karliah nodded as though hearing about dragon souls being claimed was an everyday experience. “So you’re also Dragonborn?”
“No. No, I’m not. I have something, some kind of connection to the power, because all of a sudden I could understand the dragon language Dardeh uses in Shouts. But I can’t for the life of me make the words myself. The thing is, though; that dragon in Dragonbridge was just me. Dardeh and Roggi weren’t around. I felt the energy coming into me and I felt nothing at all afterward. No difference.”
She looked down at the sleeping infant and sighed. “I think it was the baby, Karliah. I think she’s the one who absorbed the dragon soul.”
“How could she have, Sayma? She hadn’t been born yet.”
“I don’t know. The old stories are that there can be two possible Dragonborn in the world at any given time; the one who is active at the moment – that would be Dar – and his possible successor. If I’m right, if Qaralana can absorb dragons, that means something might happen to Dar. Doesn’t it?” She looked at Karliah, desperate for some kind of answer.
It was silly, she knew. It was a “what-if” scenario on so many levels that it almost seemed ridiculous to state it aloud. But it had been bothering her for ages and it felt so good to air it out.
Karliah, as usual, was unperturbed. “Sayma, I don’t know what happened with you and the dragon. It’s certainly unusual, and something to keep in mind as your family grows up. But,” she said, patting Sayma’s knee, “I don’t think anything is going to happen to Dardeh. Not until he is a very old man. He is far too strong, and so is Roggi. They’re both too stubborn. Don’t borrow trouble, my dear. We have had more than enough of it for several lifetimes.”
Sayma nodded, relieved to have gotten her fears off her chest. She’d been so grateful to have Karliah in her life since returning to Riften as Sayma. Granted, Karliah was like one of the moons, always circling but rarely in the inner circle; but she was steady and trustworthy and kind.
And deadly, and stealthy, and wise. I am a lucky person.
Chip came around the corner of the house with Iona hot on his heels. He had somehow gotten into Brynjolf’s box of pelts and found a fox pelt, which he had draped over his head. As small as he was, still, it hung down over his shoulders and covered most of him.
“Rawr!” he cried, stomping on one foot and then the other as he approached. He held his hands out in front of himself, crooked as if they were claws. “Rawr!”
“What are you, little one?” Sayma called to him.
“I’m a wuff!” he yelled. “Rawr! I’m a werewuff! Be fraid!”
Sayma and Karliah looked at each other for a moment, startled, and then broke out laughing. Iona scooped Chip up off the ground and groaned.
“Oof, you little scamp! You’re getting almost too big for me to pick up! Now let’s go back and put that pelt back where it belongs.”
They heard Chip giggling all the way back around the corner and into the yard.
___
They walked slowly across the bridge into Windhelm.
It had been a long walk to Whiterun; for even though Roggi had survived Edwyn Wickham he’d been very close to the brink of death and still was not himself. They’d taken their time, and Dardeh was grateful that he had been free to lend an arm a few times when Roggi had tired a bit, and stumbled. Brynjolf actually had seemed to enjoy being the point man when a saber cat had hurtled down from the hillside to attack on the way. He’d taken the beast out with just a few efficient swipes of his daggers, and had scooped its eyes out for use in potion-making, trotting back to join Dardeh and Roggi with a grin on his face.
“Here you go, my friend,” he’d said, handing the slimy orbs to a delighted Roggi.
“You’re pretty deadly with those knives, Bryn,” Dardeh said, trying not to reveal just how shaken he’d been by the power and speed the man had demonstrated. “And fast. I don’t know that I’d want to meet you on a dark night.”
I’m actually glad that it was Edwyn Wickham I had to face on that rooftop and not Brynjolf. Aside from the fact that he’s family, he’s deadly. I don’t know that I could defeat him. My Shouts are only useful if I can actually strike the target with them. And forget trying to do anything with my swords.
Brynjolf had laughed, not able to contain himself. “No, probably not,” he said. “I will admit that I’ve been known to frighten people if they get too close.” His smile had faded then. “But I want that to stop. I really do. Keep an eye out. If we should happen across any vampires on the road…”
“If we do, they’re not likely to be stronger than you, Bryn,” Roggi said. “But we’ll watch. If we can’t at least attempt to find what you need we’ll not have been much use to you as family.”
Brynjolf had shrugged. “Just the fact that you don’t want to kill me right here and now is worth more than I could say.”
They walked up the broken stairs to the Palace of the Kings and pushed the huge doors open; and Dardeh couldn’t help catching his breath as they entered the great hall. For there, at the far end of the room, in his throne as he had been so many times before, was Ulfric Stormcloak. This time, though, he wore a crown. It was made up of many spines or tusks, of uneven lengths; and with it upon his head he looked even more like a great beast of prey than he ever had, to Dardeh’s eye.
He heard an intake of breath and turned to find Roggi smiling toward the throne, his eyes sparkling. Roggi reached out with his nearer arm and grabbed hold of Dardeh’s arm.
“Dar.”
“Yes?”
“Doesn’t he look magnificent?”
Dardeh smiled at him, and nodded, and his heart broke a little more in spite of himself. He felt eyes on him and glanced up to see Brynjolf giving him a sympathetic nod.
“He looks like he’s been waiting a long time for that crown, lad,” Brynjolf murmured.
Dardeh noticed movement at the front of the room. Ulfric had leaned over to say something to Jorlief; and Jorlief had scurried away through the map room. He turned back to Roggi.
“Are you alright, love?”
Roggi looked at him and nodded, still starry-eyed. “Dar, it’s just been such a long time coming. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Dardeh’s expression must have given him away, though; because Roggi snorted. “Don’t you start thinking that way, Dragonborn. You know I’m just excited that he finally has that crown. Don’t you?”
Dardeh wanted to just say “of course!” but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he sighed heavily and tried to smile. “Roggi, you know there will always be a part of me that wonders if I’m good enough for you. But I understand.”
Brynjolf snorted. “Well if we don’t move, lads, we will all be old and gray by the time we get to congratulate the man on his new status. Can we go, please?”
Roggi tossed his head back and laughed. “Of course.”
Roggi, of course, was the first to approach Ulfric’s throne. He did so, smiled, and bowed – the same slight but respectful bow he’d given Ulfric on the road from Riften to Windhelm not so long ago.
“Your Majesty,” he said, smiling. “I received your summons.” The two of them looked at each other, and Dardeh saw a world of conversation flying between them. “Damn, I’ve waited a long time to say that,” he added with a grin. “And you look good in it. It suits you.”
“Thank you, Roggi,” Ulfric said with a chuckle. “And I have waited a long time to be able to send you such a summons.” He looked past Roggi and nodded to Dardeh and Brynjolf. “Dragonborn. Brynjolf. I am happy to welcome you to my court.” He waved his hand. “It’s the same court as it was the last time you were here, as you can see, with the same tired old men running it, but no doubt my lovely Queen will have that matter rectified before long.”
“Speak for yourself, Ulfric,” a raspy voice from the side of the room grumped. Galmar entered, with Frina on his arm. “Her Majesty, Queen Frina Stormblade,” he said awkwardly.
Dardeh grinned. I’ve never seen anyone look less comfortable with an official duty than that.
Frina bounced over to them and grabbed Roggi in a hug. “All this formality,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “You’re family. It’s good to see you.”
“And it’s good to see you as well, my Queen,” Roggi said formally, taking her hand and bowing to kiss it. “I hope you’re well.” Then he chuckled. “Don’t deprive me of my chance to behave like an actual courtier for once in my life. It’s fun, and I’ve waited a long time to do it.”
“Well, if you must,” she said, laughing. “I’m doing well. I’m afraid I’m going to outgrow this dress too, in not too much time, though.”
Ulfric smiled at her. “You may wonder why you received a summons, Roggi.”
“Besides the novelty of being able to do it? Yes, I’m curious.”
Ulfric straightened in his throne and leaned forward. “You have been an integral part of my court for many years, Roggi Knot-Beard. In spite of the time we shall no longer mention, when misunderstanding and my own folly sent us on different paths, you have served me – and the people of Skyrim – in many different capacities, and for those years of service I wish to reward you.”
He looked at Dardeh and nodded. “Dardeh, Dragonborn, you too have served us in many capacities, if not for as long a time. I am uncertain that the war could have been won without your sacrifices and, if Master Arngeir is to be believed, I am uncertain that Skyrim would still exist without them. I might not have been inclined to accept a simple statement from you that Alduin had been defeated. For that, I hope you will forgive me. However, Master Arngeir is my mentor and has the ear of the chiefest of their order, and he has reassured me that everything you’ve said was true.”
Dardeh inclined his head. It still irked him that Ulfric hadn’t taken him at his word, but he could understand why he hadn’t. “Thank you, your Majesty.”
Frina snorted. “He’s been trying to get me to call him ‘just Ulfric’ ever since we met and now he has yet another layer of title for us to get around. It’ll never end.”
All of them laughed.
“Well then, King ‘just Ulfric,’” Brynjolf piped up from the side of the room, “why did you have us drag this wounded warrior all the way from Falkreath to see you?”
There was a hush in the room for just a moment, as the guards and the ever-present Jorlief held their breath to see what the King’s reaction would be to such familiarity. They needn’t have worried.
Ulfric chortled. “Just this, Brynjolf of Riften. In honor of their service and in recognition of their friendship freely given and received, I hereby name both Roggi Knot-Beard and Dardeh at-Dadarh Thanes of the City of Windhelm. You will have a property in the city for your personal use when you visit us.” He leaned forward and smiled. “And I do sincerely hope that you will visit us from time to time. Your counsel, as I have said, is always welcomed and often needed.”
Dardeh’s mouth fell open. “But Ulfric. This is too much. For me, at least, it is too much. I am already a Thane in Whiterun and Falkreath, and the Jarl of Markarth has offered me a similar title. I haven’t accepted it yet but Markarth was my home and… “
Ulfric smirked. “And that will prevent you from being a Thane here for what reason? Dragonborn, it is the highest honor I have to give, and aside from my oldest friend Galmar – who is stubborn and would not accept the title – you and Roggi are the two I most sincerely wish to honor. You will not be expected to live here, but you may if you wish.” He turned to Roggi. “Do you accept, my friend?”
Roggi cleared his throat several times. “Are you sure you want to honor a lowly Inquisitor with such a high title, Ulfric?”
“Yes. I do.”
“In that case, I accept. Thank you, your Majesty.”
Dardeh looked at Roggi’s happy face and sighed. He’ll always belong to Ulfric in some small degree, won’t he. Well, he’s still my husband, and he’s happy. I guess that’s all I can wish.
“And I accept as well, sire,” Dardeh said. “I am honored.”
Ulfric turned to Brynjolf. “I would wish to honor you as well, but somehow I felt that a title…”
Brynjolf waved his hand and shook his head. “… would not be at all fitting for someone like me. I’m simply grateful that you and I understand each other’s role in the world, and that is all I need.”
Ulfric leaned forward. “In that case, I hope that you will humor me once more.”
“Shoot.”
Ulfric grinned. “My dearest Stormblade wishes to make one more trip to Riften, before she is too encumbered to do so.”
Frina tsk’d. “I can speak for myself, Ulfric. Bryn, I want to go talk to Sayma. About… female things. I want to do it now, before I’m as big as a horse and can’t walk. Will you be willing to put us up for another night or two?”
“Of course,” Brynjolf said, and then frowned. “I suspect my wife will be happier to see all of you than she will be to see me again.”
“In that case, let me retrieve my orcish armor and we will make our way south.”