Sayma gave the house another quick inspection. It seemed that she was ready to go. She’d carefully stored her black robes in the bedroom and donned her armor, because it wasn’t safe to travel in just the dress she’d favored for several years.
Funny that I should have become a dress-wearing kind of person after all this time.
She smiled to herself, thinking about the simple green dress she’d found in a hurry for her wedding day. It had been such a nondescript piece of clothing, but it was so unusual for her to wear such a thing that it felt special enough. Brynjolf certainly hadn’t cared that it was plain and common.
These days I could afford to put on the finest gowns, like Frina does. I could practically dress myself in jewels, for all the money we’ve made over the years. But what do I choose? A plain black dress.
Ah well. Brynjolf doesn’t seem to mind.
She’d spent several days here since leaving Riften, attending to business at the Sanctuary and organizing her home here for what she expected to be a long absence. She’d assigned jobs from the Night Mother to members of the Brotherhood and had spent time talking to Cicero, Babette, and Nazir. Nazir and Babette had seemed pleased that she was there, though she suspected Nazir was primarily happy to have a bit of a break from the pressures of leadership.
Mostly, though, she’d taken the days here in Dawnstar as time for herself. She’d needed to think, to reflect on all that had gone before, and to see whether she could identify the warp and weft of her life and plan how to continue its weaving once she returned to Riften.
And now it was time. She made one more pass through the house to be certain everything was as it should be, and prepared to leave. Just as she was about to open the door, however, something had an odd chill running up her back. She faced back into the room, wondering what she’d forgotten.
There was nothing. The table was cleared, and so was the mantlepiece. She’d removed all the valuables from this area and stored those she didn’t want to carry on her person downstairs, in a safe. All that was here were the memories of herself and the infant she’d named Brynjolf, but who had become Chip instead.
I think about that every time I’m here. But it was a long time ago, now. He’s a grown man, off doing who knows what. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him. Maybe it’s just that back then I was so very much on my own, making a new person of myself.
It doesn’t even matter. Chip’s not here and neither is the girl who ran away from her worries over and over again. Time to let it go. Besides, for all I know Chip will be in Riften when I get back. I could use a good bear hug.
She nodded, more to reassure herself than anything else, and stepped out into the snow. Babette and her thralls would take good care of the home and maybe, once the Night Mother had selected a new Listener, that person could move into it in her stead.
She was happy to climb atop Shadowmere again. The horse snorted and shook its mane, clearly eager to be off.
“So am I, Shadowmere,” she said, patting the horse’s neck. “It’s just too cold here. Let’s go home, what do you say?”
Shadowmere whickered and bobbed his head, then trotted south. It might have been a pleasant thing to go home via Windhelm, to stop and chat with Frina and anyone else who happened to be around them. For all she knew, Qaralana would be there, visiting with Harald. But she didn’t like the cold, and she didn’t want to be seen in her Brotherhood armor. It was all black, to be sure, and fairly unremarkable; but she knew that many people would recognize it for what it was. That, she wanted to avoid. That was also why she traveled at night.
You might even think I was the vampire in the family, she thought with an ironic smile as she passed Whiterun in the darkest part of the night. That was something else she’d thought about while tidying things up in Dawnstar. It had never stopped bothering her that she’d been unable to simply accept Brynjolf the way he was after he’d dispatched Edwyn Wickham and helped put Ulfric on the throne. She’d dreamed about that moment so many times over the years. There he’d been, positively radiating power, perhaps the most exquisite man she’d ever seen at that point – and she hadn’t been able to touch him for fear of his glowing, amber eyes and his mouth revealing sharp fangs.
I wonder what life would have been like if I hadn’t been afraid. But maybe it’s like Roggi always said. I just found the limits of my courage.
Shadowmere snorted, shaking his head and stomping a bit, bringing her attention back to the present. They were passing near the various waterfalls that poured down from the great mountains above, rushing to meet the White River and race toward Windhelm and the sea. The night had given way to a dreary, gray dawn. Still, the view overlooking Eastmarch from atop the black horse as they climbed toward the Rift was stunning.
“I’m sorry. I’m not paying attention. I’m just glad to be heading home.”
Shadowmere snorted again, almost a heavy sigh, and continued along the way. Sayma looked once more across the volcanic tundra, thinking back to the bandit attack that had changed her life forever by taking her to Kynesgrove: the second of its kind, really. The first was the attack that killed her parents – but she’d been fortunate, soon afterward, to find Daron and…
Coyle.
She sighed. No matter how focused she had been on setting things right at the Sanctuary and preparing to vacate her Dawnstar home, he’d been in the back of her mind. No matter how hard she’d thought about Brynjolf and what she would say to him when she returned to Riften, she couldn’t quite put Coyle out of her mind. It was hard not to wonder what he was really like now, what his life had been since she’d left the two friends so long before. He’d certainly seemed friendly enough, happy enough, when they’d shared a meal; but she knew how good he was at putting on a positive face even when things weren’t going his way. What had been obvious, though, was that he’d never stopped thinking about her, caring about her.
It was hard not to think about what the two of them had been back in their youth, as well. They’d been each other’s everything – best of friends, nearly life-long companions, and eventually lovers. Coyle had never doubted that they’d end up together, or so he said; if she was truthful with herself she had to admit she’d thought the same. But life had taken a different path, in large part because of poor decisions he and Daron had made. That was another, equally distressing, issue, because of the inescapable fact that skooma had been not only the reason she’d left Stros M’Kai, but also one of the main reasons she and her family here in Skyrim had lived so well all these years.
And here we are, all together, everything having come full circle. The only difference is that it’s not me and Coyle, with Daron as the third. Now it’s me and Brynjolf, with Coyle as…
Shadowmere snorted once more, startling her out of her thoughts and back to the present. They had reached the first of Riften’s watchtowers. Sayma looked up at them and had a sudden, vivid memory of the first time she’d seen them, as she’d plodded uphill with a bundle of looted gear on her back.
That was the best sight I’d seen in…
Suddenly, Shadowmere shied, dancing sideways while whinnying loudly. Sayma had to fight to keep her seat atop this animal that was more equal partner in the Dark Brotherhood than beast of burden.
“Whoa there, Shadowmere! Calm down, friend!” she called to him while applying firm pressure with her legs and with her hands on the reins – something she’d rarely, if ever, had to do in all the years she’d known him. “What is it? What’s going on?”
Shadowmere stopped dancing but tossed his head up and down, vigorously, clearly anxious to do something other than walk sedately up the hill to Riften. Sayma was about to speak to him again when an overwhelming sensation had her grabbing at his neck to keep from falling.
Her vision went dark. It was only for the briefest of moments, but it was terrifying, like falling into an abyss. It was like the nothingness she’d experienced being drawn through the portal to Coldharbour on her way to Ben Erai. She gasped for air.
And then the world was normal again, save for one thing.
She no longer felt the connection to the Night Mother that had been a part of the fabric of her being for the better part of twenty years. It wasn’t the agonizing emptiness of loss; she felt no rending of her heart as she had when losing someone close. It was simply as though that connection had never been.
Shadowmere shimmied in place once more. Sayma reached forward and patted his neck, sadly, realizing that she no longer had that unspoken connection to this amazing beast, either.
She’s picked a new Listener. It’s finally over. I’m free.
“You just want to go to your new leader, don’t you, my friend?” she murmured to Shadowmere. The horse bobbed his head up and down again, pawing at the ground impatiently.
“Tell you what. If you could carry me around the walls to the entrance of home, I’ll be forever grateful. Then you can be off.”
Shadowmere broke into a trot, up the hill and to the left, toward the entrance to Riftvale southeast of the city. Sayma rode in stunned silence, trying to grasp the notion that she’d likely never ride this beautiful creature again. She wasn’t sad, necessarily, just a bit overwhelmed at the sudden, unceremonious end to her career as the Listener and impressed, as always, by the uncanny nature of the black horse with the red eyes.
When they reached the opening in the cliff face that would take her into the secluded vale, Shadowmere stomped impatiently. She chuckled, part amusement and part bittersweet nostalgia, and maneuvered off the saddle and onto the ground. She unfastened her bags and slid them down off the horse’s back and then turned to him, taking his reins in one hand and gently turning his head to look into the blood-red eyes.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been a good friend and I will never forget you.”
Shadowmere whickered and bobbed his head once more. Then, as she released her hold on him, he turned and hurtled down the road toward the west. It didn’t take long before he was out of sight. Sayma sighed, picked up her belongings, and slipped through the entrance to her home.
She let herself into the house and dropped her bags by the door. There would be plenty of time to unpack and sort out later, but first there was something she simply had to take care of.
“Bryn? Are you here?”
She heard a slight groan from the far room, and the sound of leather pieces moving past each other as he rose from his chair.
“Aye. I was just… napping.”
He came around the corner, rubbing his eyes and yawning, stopping just at the entrance to the living space. His face was stern, but Sayma thought she saw a certain longing in his demeanor. She couldn’t help giving him a small grin. He certainly had aged since that day when she’d reflexively drawn away from him as a vampire, but he still cut a fine figure.
“So… I’m home,” she said, wondering how to begin the explanations and apologies that needed to happen.
“I see that, lass,” he said, nodding, hands on his hips. “Did you get your business taken care of?”
“Yes,” she said, moving slowly across the room. “There’s something else, as well.”
“Oh?” He dropped his hands and took one hesitant step toward her.
“Yes. I’m not the Listener any longer.” She watched as a small smile took his mouth. He was tired, and his eyes were bloodshot, but as the implications dawned on him the smile grew stronger.
“You’re not?”
She nodded. “Unless I get an assignment, yes. I’m free. There’s a new Listener. I don’t know who.” She took a deep breath and another step closer to him. “And I’m sorry about… well, all the other things. I hope you understand.”
He nodded, moving just a bit closer to her. “Aye, lass. And I’m sorry, too. I just assumed you understood what I’ve been doing all these years but I should have known better. And I shouldn’t have gotten jealous over something that happened back in another lifetime.”
Sayma smiled. It was going to be alright, after all.
“It’s alright, Red,” she murmured. “I missed you, while I was away. I’m glad to be home.”
She would have said more, but Brynjolf interrupted her by wrapping his arms around her waist. A moment later she found herself being lifted off the ground. The deep voice next to her shoulder told her everything she needed to know.
“I’m glad you’re back.”
Coyle yawned and blinked, stretching his arms out in the damp and chilly early morning. It looked to be just past dawn from his vantage point next to one of Solitude’s stone walls. It surely hadn’t been a comfortable place to rest his bones, but he’d decided against showing his face publicly at the inn. It had been a long time since he’d last been in Solitude, but where there was a port there was a chance of running across someone who knew him – for better or worse. So here he sat, waiting for the sun to climb high enough to warm the air. He had a bit of dried beef with him and chewed on that as he watched the city wake and its people begin their daily business.
Eventually he hopped down from his perch on the boulders and began walking slowly around the city, keeping his ears open. The small open-air market was busy as usual, its fish merchant trying to sell to anyone who passed near including one of the townsfolk who complained about it, emphatic that he did not like fish. Coyle grinned, turning back toward the old stone buildings near the city gates.
“I’ve got a little work if you get bored, stranger,” he heard from nearby. Unsure whether the voice was addressing him or not, Coyle glanced around the plaza until his gaze fell on an Argonian in salt-stained leathers leaning up a support near the alchemy shop. It took no more than a moment to realize that the Argonian was staring at him, and had been doing so for some time.
I recognize the look of a pirate when I see one. Alright then. This fellow has something to share. Let’s see what’s up.
He dodged the citizens whose path he had to cross and made his way to where the Argonian stood, nodding at him once they were close enough.
“I heard you mention work. What kind of work would it be?”
The Argonian looked him up and down and gave him a grin. “You’re passing through Solitude? Maybe you’re looking to make some easy gold, yes?”
Coyle crossed his arms and planted his feet. “Looking for work,” he repeated.
The Argonian dropped his voice. “It’s easy to find things to sell. Things nobody will miss. Things from underground, or just left lying around in someone’s house. I’ll bet the two of us are very alike.”
“I’m not a thief, lizard,” Coyle said, shaking his head. “I’m looking for work, not a stretch in prison. By the way, name’s Coyle.”
“Jaree-Ra,” the Argonian responded. “And no, not a thief. Thieves take what is precious. My sister Deeja and I are treasure hunters. We like to collect things, things that nobody needs anymore. Maybe we take some weapons and stop a few deaths. Who would call that thievery? You’d be in no danger.”
“Of course. So I’m listening. Go on.” Interesting that he would mention weapons, after what I saw in Dawnstar. What has Rolvar gotten himself into this time?
“Many ships come through these docks, loaded with weapons and pay but few people, and they pass through dangerous waters.”
Coyle nodded. This person was clearly a con artist and a thief, if not worse, but Coyle was certain he could get some valuable information out of this chance meeting if he played it right.
“Coming in to port? Yes. I know these waters.”
Jaree-Ra nodded. “We have an interest in one of these boats. The Icerunner.”
“Still afloat? It’s been a long time since I saw her last. A very long time.”
“Oh yes. The Solitude lighthouse will be guiding it in, but if its fire were to go out? The Icerunner would run aground.”
“It would indeed,” Coyle said. “So this work you’re offering involves dousing the fire down at the lighthouse, is that it?”
The Argonian’s eyebrows rose dramatically, just as though he’d never heard such an amazing insight before. “What an interesting idea! I think if someone were to do something like that, there would definitely be a certain amount of loot to be shared.”
Yeah, yeah, ya slimy bastard.
“Yes! If someone were to put out the lighthouse fire, and then meet me on the docks afterwards, I could certainly direct them to that loot,” he continued.
Finally.
“Sure, I can do that. I’m looking for a particular kind of loot, very specific, so I won’t be cutting into your profits much. I’ll meet you on the docks in a few hours.”
Jaree-Ra grinned. “I knew you looked like a clever one.”
“And what about the crew?”
“Don’t worry about them. We’ll make sure they wash up safe. Maybe they’ll even pay us for the heroic rescue from their sad crash.”
Coyle forced himself to chuckle. “Sounds good. I’ll be on my way, then.”
He turned and made his way casually across the marketplace once more, toward the city exit beneath the city’s bright-red, landmark windmill. It would place him near the docks and closer to the lighthouse much sooner than going out the main gate. Not that it mattered. Coyle was absolutely certain he was being set up.
He thinks he’s got it made. Pitiful old skooma addict looking for an easy fix will make the perfect decoy. They’ll beach the Icerunner, take the goods, and leave me holding the bag. Well, with any luck they’ll be surprised. I’m not as pathetic as I look. Even Rolvar thought so.
He shuddered. Those were days well in the past and a good thing they were. He couldn’t help running some of them through his mind as he trotted along the road east and north, toward the mouth of Solitude’s substantial fjord and the lighthouse at its rocky entrance. There was a substantial period of time during which he and Daron had been at their worst, but before Daron had died, that was mostly a blur in his mind.
I did some shady things back then. I wish I remembered them better. Or maybe I don’t. That’s what I get for being an idiot.
He was all ready to start feeling sorry for himself that he’d lost Dagnell to his own stupidity when the lighthouse came into view. There was a deep inlet on its southern side, with a wide path leading down from the roadway to the lighthouse; moored in that inlet was another large vessel he recognized from years gone by. Well, well. The Dainty Sload it is. Rolvar was right. I’m not about to approach. There’s never been an honest crew on her for as long as I’ve known that name.
Coyle pulled a voluminous hood up over his head and dropped down into a crouch, creeping past the jetty as quietly as he could. With any luck, he would make it to the lighthouse unseen. If his luck failed, at least his face would be mostly hidden.
As he slipped into the deeper shadows of the nearest rock outcropping, he heard footsteps on planks and a tuneless whistling coming from the ship. Nobody challenged him, though, so he assumed that he’d made it past safely. He turned his attention to the lighthouse ahead.
Its tower was a massive structure, easily twice as tall as its counterpart in Dawnstar, with its base holding the keeper’s living quarters. Past it, Coyle could see the inevitable sea fog gathering over the water. Once the beacon was out, more ships than just the Icerunner would be at risk until the keeper lit it again. Getting to the top and dousing the flames would be simple unless he had to kill the keeper. He grimaced.
Don’t like unnecessary killing. I hope he’s napping.
He was grateful for his light armor and the well-padded soles on his boots as he eased himself into the lighthouse’s entrance. The residence was to his left; he paused and forced himself to listen for several long moments, determining that nobody was about to burst through the door, before making for the tower beyond. At least, he thought, stone steps didn’t creak.
The lighthouse’s fire was so enormous that he could hear its roar before he even got to the top of the tower. He wasn’t going to be able to extinguish it entirely; it burned too hot and had too well-established a bed of coals to go completely dark unless a deluge opened overhead. It was even going to be a dicey piece of work to knock it down far enough that ships couldn’t see its light. Coyle selected a long stick from the nearby piles of reserve fuel and began disassembling the burning structure, piece by piece, cringing whenever a limb crashed onto the slabs that made up its pit and once more thanking the ancient Imperials for building their towers of stone. It wouldn’t be likely that the keeper would hear wood falling from so far below; even if he did hear it, well, sticks falling was a normal sound for a bonfire to make as pieces of its fuel burned through.
Finally, the lumber was flattened, the flames reduced to flickering embers well-hidden by the tall stone lip of the beacon. It wasn’t totally dark, and wouldn’t be for some time to come, but as thick as the sea fog got here along Tamriel’s northern oceans Coyle was confident that no ship would be able to navigate by the slight glow that remained here. It felt as though it had taken nearly forever to complete his task, but he peered up at the increasingly-obscured sun and saw by its angle that it had taken no more than half an hour, if that. He crept back down the stairs and dashed away from the lighthouse, wondering whether the keeper had even been at home.
If he was, the man isn’t worth half the money they’re paying him. What a shame.
Passing the Dainty Sload this time he saw the deckhand he’d only heard before. There was only one man walking patrol aboard the ship, so it wasn’t difficult for Coyle to stay in the ever-deepening shadows and wait until there was no line of sight between them before moving.
He decided, this time, to hug the shore rather than climb back to the roadway. It would be easier to keep an eye on the lighthouse, that way, and to be sure nobody from the Sload had spotted him. His feet would be wet, but it would be better than an ambush from behind. He sloshed through the soggy gravel beyond the ship and around the end of the next cape, and had started up the slope beyond it when something caught his eye and he froze in place.
It was a sail. A furled sail, to be sure, but a sail nonetheless, and one that he thought he recognized.
By the gods. Could it be? Or am I imagining things?
He crept closer to the shore and up a sloping boulder to get a better view. Sure enough, it was a large ship, easily the size of the Buoyant Barnacle if not larger, and he was fairly certain he knew its name.
“Is someone there?”
The voice was coming from the shoreline directly beneath the boulder Coyle was on but thankfully its owner was out of sight still. Coyle reached into a pouch and rummaged around for the invisibility potion he’d tucked in it alongside several bottles of skooma.
“You can’t hide from me!” the voice taunted.
Bet I can.
He downed the potion and checked to be sure that he couldn’t see his arms or legs before climbing down from the boulder and running away, up the path toward the old Imperial road. He didn’t stop to check further on the ship, or the lighthouse behind him. If he’d recognized the ship and the owner of that voice, he didn’t want to approach tired or unprepared. Besides, he knew just who to ask about it.
He finally located Jaree-Ra not by the East Empire Company’s warehouse, where he’d expected they would meet, but on the landing of the stairway down from Solitude to the docks. The Argonian stood near the rope railing, staring out across the water toward the swamps north of Morthal.
“Hey,” Coyle said, slowing as he approached Jaree-Ra. “Light’s out.”
“Looks like you had no trouble. And the effects have already been felt. The Icerunner has failed to dock on time. Without the lighthouse it will have swung wide at the western shoal and run aground on the eastern coast.”
“That it will,” Coyle agreed.
“My sister Deeja will be at the wreck with our Blackblood Marauders,” Jaree-Ra continued. “She knows to expect you.”
Coyle felt the hair on his neck rise. The Blackbloods? I thought they were wiped out years ago! So they weren’t?
“By the way,” he said, trying to cover his momentary distress, “I was surprised to see two ships out there. An acquaintance in Dawnstar told me the Sload was still afloat, old as she is. But there’s another ship along the way to the lighthouse. Know anything about her?”
“Ah, yes,” the Argonian said. “The Ocean Saber. That one’s newer than the Sload, but not by much. Manned by a small group of Redguards. Or at least it was. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were up to piracy. Or worse.”
Coyle masked his surprise and excitement by raising an eyebrow. “Undoubtedly.”
Jaree-Ra suddenly appeared to realize what Coyle’s dark skin meant. He flushed; or at least Coyle assumed he was blushing in embarrassment. It was hard to tell with Argonians, but it looked as though the color of his scales changed slightly.
“Many pardons,” he said. “I didn’t mean…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Coyle said, enjoying the Argonian’s dismay more than he probably should have. He’s got to be kicking himself right now. Can’t afford to anger the guy who just did his dirty work for him. “I’m used to it. You grow a thick skin when you’re a Redguard in Nord-land. Or an Argonian, I would imagine.” Touché, my scaly friend.
Jaree-Ra smiled. Or, at least, he pulled his lips back over his very sharp teeth. “Thick as scales, my friend. Now, if you can go meet up with Deeja, I’ll take care of things on this end.”
Coyle nodded. “You bet. See you soon.”
He trudged up the stairs toward Solitude, leaving Jaree-Ra staring out across the fjord.
Not sure why he’s bothering. That fog’s too thick to make out much.
So it’s the Saber. I thought so. That sounded like Haslev out by the rocks. If it is him, I’m going to have to pay another visit to that little corner of the world when I’m done with this.
He intended to cross the water upstream, by the sawmill, rather than going all the way west to Dragonbridge. He’d get wet and cold, but he’d gotten wet and cold before, and salty, and angry. He’d done stupid things while angry, and even more stupid things while angry at Haslev.
I’ll be happy to give that guy a little of what he’s got coming to him.
Then he stopped cold in his tracks, as a realization came to him. Jaree-Ra had just told him that it was a small group of Redguards that owned the ship. Depending on how small the group was, and how hard it was to get rid of them…
I could get myself a ship.