It had been a foggy night, perfect for travel; and it had turned into a foggy day, even more perfect for travel if one had a problem with sunshine. Dale Perdeti took advantage of both to make his way from his new home on the far northeastern tip of Haafingar back toward the southeast. He intended to check in with Agryn Gernic and Vyctyna Tardif, both to thank them for his excellent new home and to show Vyctyna that she’d been right about the slimmer, nondescript armor he now wore. He had been dubious; but this was in fact easier to wear, and he no longer drew every gaze when he walked into an inn. And, of course, it was important to let them know that he had made first contact with the court in Solitude as asked, and had made himself useful. But first, he needed to make a stop on the coast.
It had been some time since he’d checked in, and he needed to see whether there were any assignments waiting for him there. He’d been working out of Dawnstar for a number of years, even before he’d left his home in Cyrodiil – before his mother had passed, before he’d met Agryn. He’d been given a name, and a location to visit in Skyrim, and he’d done so. An old, very quiet Redguard had asked him a few questions and given him an assignment as a test. After he’d passed that test he’d served as an agent in Cyrodiil, traveling back and forth as needs indicated. Now that he’d gotten his assignment from Agryn sorted, needs most definitely indicated that he put in an appearance with his other employers.
He was actually looking forward to this day, he realized as he walked along Dawnstar’s boardwalks toward the ocean. His vampiric mentors were nice people, as far as such things went; but they were nice people. Dale could make himself into a reasonable facsimile of a nice person without too much trouble, but Agryn seemed to be a genuinely nice vampire. And Vyctyna was delightful.
But nice can be so dull.
He breathed deeply of the salt air and smiled at the familiar sounds and sights. The creaking of the vessels resting in the narrow harbor, the call of gulls and grunts of horkers on the beach, the welcoming beacon of the lighthouse just at the harbor’s entrance: all these things made him happy.
I do hope Nazir won’t be annoyed that it’s been so long since I visited. I assume I would have heard by now if there had been a problem. It’ll be good to have an assignment that has some teeth to it.
A moment later he realized what he’d just thought and laughed aloud, drawing the attention of a few passers-by. He waved at them and smiled, all the while internally snickering at the notion of a vampire looking for a job with teeth.
As he passed the end of Dawnstar’s walkways, though, and pushed on down the sandy shoreline, he stopped short and his smile faded. He looked around, studying the beach while rubbing his chin. There it was again. Still. In all this time it hadn’t faded. There was something about this spot that called to him, strongly. He’d noticed it every time he’d stopped in here and hadn’t yet figured out why.
Why here? It’s just the beach. Not even an especially pretty part of the beach, at that. A little pile of stones here and in front of them… this is where I feel the energy. I wonder why?
The sensation was especially strong just in front of a small cluster of stone not far from the door he intended to enter. He knelt down to get a closer look, taking up some of the beach sand into his hand and letting it run through his fingers. There were some flecks of a reddish color in the sand, but nothing truly unusual.
It’s a beach. Metal rusts and rust can look reddish. There are dozens of wrecks just offshore along this coast and who knows what might have washed up here over the years. I don’t know why this spot calls to me.
Who knows? Maybe it’s some kind of magic, like a ward. An invisible beacon.
He rose to his feet with a heavy sigh and shook his head. This was accomplishing exactly nothing and he needed to be inside, not staring at a patch of sand.
As usual, he waited to be absolutely certain nobody was looking in his direction before he approached the large black door deeply recessed into the hillside. There was a foreboding-looking skull embossed on the door’s exterior, something that both amused Dale and made him wonder how it was that townspeople hadn’t raised alarms about the place long, long ago. Perhaps there was some sort of magic about it, some sort of illusion like the one he used to disguise his vampirism; magic that kept the Sanctuary from being noticed in spite of its having been there for a very long time.
That makes sense, actually. The door does have magic, after all. Perhaps it’s related to the energy on the beach. That must be what I’ve been feeling all this time!
Convinced that he’d arrived at either the right answer or something very close to it, Dale filed that particular set of problems into his mental “solved” basket. He smiled as he pushed the door open. He would waste no more of his energies on worrying about flecks of red in the sand on Dawnstar’s beach.
A moment later he was greeted by a loud giggle.
“Hello! Ondale! It’s been too long. Far, far too long! And dear, old Cicero is so very happy to see you again. And so is our Mother. I am sure. Well, nearly sure. Cicero can only suppose, after all.”
Dale walked around the corner to smile at the weird man standing before a wizened old corpse. He’d been tending to the corpse for decades, according to Nazir. Rumor had it that once upon a time Cicero had been called something else – nobody quite knew what – and had been quite the accomplished assassin. But long, long ago he had accepted the offer to become the Keeper, the Dark Brotherhood member tasked with keeping the corpse of the Night Mother intact. He also served as a sort of unofficial sentry, his inability to keep quiet acting as an alarm to anyone in the sanctuary below. The problem with Cicero, of course, was that he was absolutely mad.
Surely a spirit as powerful as the Night Mother’s could exist without its original corpse. It’s such an unsightly thing. There are spirits roaming throughout Tamriel, and they don’t require physical presences in the world. We all know this. But at least it gives Cicero something to do. It’s truly kind of the Listener to have allowed the man to live.
Dale had never met the Listener, but had heard the tales of how she had tracked Cicero here to the then-unused Sanctuary and, in spite of his trying to kill her, had let him live on as a valued member of the Brotherhood.
Well, as a member anyway. Valued is such a subjective judgment and I am not the one to judge. Nazir barely tolerates him.
According to Nazir, his primary contact here in the Sanctuary, the Listener once was much more present in the Sanctuary than she was currently. She even kept quarters here in the Sanctuary itself. But she had long since moved elsewhere to tend to her own family, visiting the Night Mother occasionally to receive instructions. Nazir would then dole the assignments out to people like him – the subordinates. And that was why Dale had come in.
“Hello, Cicero,” he said, nodding at the man in the jester’s outfit. “I hope you’re well.”
“Oh yes, yes!” Cicero responded, wriggling about in apparent delight. “Cicero is doing very well indeed. As is Nazir. He will also be happy to see Ondale.”
Dale chuckled. “Thank you, kind sir. I’ll go see him right now. And you don’t need to call me Ondale. Just Dale is fine.”
“Thank you, thank you Just Dale. Cicero will remember that,” the old Imperial giggled, returning to his mission of speaking hushed nonsense to the Night Mother’s desiccated corpse. Dale smiled at his back and chuckled in spite of himself, then found the stairwell down to the main chamber of the Sanctuary.
On the far side of the space, was the back of a large and familiar figure in Alik’r clothing, speaking to a Brother Dale didn’t know and likely never would who was bent over a cooking pot. Originally, the members of the Brotherhood barely knew who held what position of authority amongst them, as a type of security precaution. Those restrictions had been relaxed over time, but people certainly didn’t go out of their way to become acquainted with each other. Nazir, though: everyone knew Nazir. He was the de facto leader of the organization.
Dale cleared his throat. “Nazir. Might I have a moment?”
“It’s good of you to come,” the big Redguard said before even turning around to look at him. “It’s been quite some time. I was beginning to wonder whether you had died on us.”
Dale froze for a moment. Maybe he’d pushed his employer too far this time. When Nazir turned to face him, though, he wore an expression of slightly-amused tolerance.
“I learned to cook from my father,” he said in his deep voice. “But that was long ago, before, you know, I killed him. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s get right to business. As it happens, I’m giving you a number of assignments that have come in through the usual channels. They’re nothing fancy but they need to be done. I also have one direct from the Night Mother herself. The Listener asked me to find someone to contact the client, and I’m giving the job to you.”
“Is that so? I’m honored.”
“As well you might be. First, the smaller jobs. Smaller, not necessarily easier. One is an Argonian layabout named Deekus. He likes to scavenge shipwrecks. My guess is that he’ll swim or dive if threatened, so go prepared.”
Dale smiled. “I certainly shall.” And it won’t be hard to prepare, now that I’m a vampire. I just knew these things would work well together.
“Alright. The next target is Ma’randru-jo, an accomplished wizard who travels with the Khajiit caravans. He’ll be more difficult, in part because you’ll need to locate him first.”
“Very well. I’ll wait until the guards are sleeping.” Or deflect light and take him from behind. That’s always an effective choice.
Nazir smirked. “Now then, the third person is Anoriath, a wood elf. You may have seen him in the marketplace if you’ve visited Whiterun. He’s a hunter, and sells meat there. But someone wants him dead, and that’s how we’ll leave him.”
Dale nodded. “Not a problem. And what’s the special task?”
“You’re to speak with a patron at Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm. He’ll let you know who the target is.” Nazir provided him with a general description of the man in question. Then, as Dale readied himself to leave, pulling up his hood, Nazir nodded again. “A good choice of armor. Much more suited to what we’re doing. I’d chide you over not wearing your uniform but I’ve never been one for being easy to spot, myself.”
Dale grinned. “Thanks, Nazir. I’ll get these done.”
“Try not to get killed. And try to do them fairly quickly, if you can. We have more coming in and I only have so many people to use.”
Dale left the Sanctuary, planning his route. He’d hug the coastline, looking for the Argonian as he worked east to Windhelm, where he would contact the patron in the inn. Then he could go south to Riften, where if he was lucky he might find one of the Khajiit caravans. Finally, he would stop in Whiterun on his way back.
Shouldn’t take much time at all.
He started trotting around the end of the harbor and eastward. It wasn’t that he had any particular desire to work as a hired killer. It was just a matter of being very good at it, a skill he’d discovered early on in his life. He needed to make money somehow, the Brotherhood paid well, and as far as the targets were concerned, well, there would always be more people.
I wonder where I came by this skill, after all. I can only guess. I’m glad my mother never knew about it.
It wasn’t too far down the coast, actually, that he saw his first shipwreck. To his delight there was a campfire burning on the island just beside it. As he neared, he dropped into a crouch to slip across the narrow channel of water between the island and the shore. There was a figure seated near the firepit; happily, once he got close enough to tell for certain he could see the distinctive, feathery hair and horns that meant he was looking at an Argonian. It was time to cross the first task off his list.
He made himself invisible and crept silently behind the seated figure, then leaned forward and sank his fangs into the pirate’s neck. Dale hadn’t feasted on an Argonian before, and was surprised by the flavor of the beast’s blood: it had a gamey quality to it that was definitely not something he would choose to sample again unless it was a necessity.
To his dismay, the bite did not kill Deekus. He’d thought himself powerful enough as a vampire to dispatch pretty much anyone; that clearly was not the case. But as the Argonian scrambled up out of his chair and stumbled over the firepit and the chests and crates piled up near it, it was obvious that he’d weakened his target. Deekus cried out and ran around behind the nearby boulders. Dale followed quietly and found his prey crouched in fear of the unseen, his hands covering his head. It took Dale only a moment with his short swords to finish the task at hand.
It seems I have some work yet to do. I would hate to disappoint Agryn because of a lack of strength as a vampire. I probably could have taken Deekus down in the normal fashion. But what fun is that?
He took the few coins from the corpse, shrugged, and headed east. The weather continued cold and foggy, and aside from encountering groups of wolves all along the coast it was a pleasant day. He arrived in Windhelm at sundown.
The contact at Candlehearth Hall was immediately obvious. He was seated before the fire, shifting back and forth nervously even as he nibbled on an ample chunk of bread. Dale had no great desire for any normal human food, but that bread smelled warm and fresh from the oven.
I can’t imagine being nervous with something that good in my belly. Well, it’s dark now and soon all these fine people will be going to bed. I’ll put something warm and tasty in my belly after that.
He grinned at the man and laughed internally at the very uneasy reaction he had to the grin. The man handed him a sack of coin and quietly asked him to take out the target in Solitude.
“It shall be done as you’ve asked,” he murmured to the contact before turning away. It was time for a hunt, and the extreme dark afforded him by the overcast weather would make it a simple one.
Maybe I should just get a slice of bread and forget about it.
Nah.
The next day found him in Riften. He intended to go through the city, rather than around it; he had an overabundance of heavy pelts to sell after his trip by foot, and there were several vendors there who might be interested in taking them off his hands. He made certain his illusion spell was in place and sauntered toward the marketplace, nodding pleasantly at the people he passed along the way. Then he stopped and peered ahead to be sure he saw what he thought he saw.
There was the man called Brynjolf, who he’d met before, selling potions as he had been. Standing not far away, though, was a figure he’d hoped to see again. Tall, shapely, wearing dark armor with a burgundy belt and hair that nearly matched that, the sight of her brought a slow smile to his face.
Qaralana! She said she lived near here. I hadn’t really expected to see her again so soon! I wonder what she’s up to out here in the marketplace.
Brynjolf had been focused on Qaralana, but as Dale approached his gaze swiveled. Once again Dale watched as the color drained from Brynjolf’s face, for just a moment, before returning.
Qaralana turned to see what Brynjolf was looking at. She stared at him, curious, for just a moment; then Dale smiled as she recognized him as the man she’d met in Ivarstead, just in a different set of armor. She stepped away from the market stall toward him, smiling.
“Dale!” she called out warmly. “I really didn’t think I’d see you again this soon! What brings you here this morning?”
“Well,” he said, calculating what he could, could not, and should not say to her. “I’ve more or less made a round trip since the evening we met. I had business to attend to here in the area, and then made the trip to Solitude. And here I am once more, and at the most opportune time possible, I see. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He took her hand and raised her fingertips to his lips once again, breathing in her scent. She was perfectly delectable in so many ways, up to and including the warm blood pulsing just beneath the surface of the sweet, sweet skin. He looked up at her through his eyelashes and saw her blush – at least he thought that was what he saw.
Almost in the same instant he looked past Qaralana to see Brynjolf staring at them. He straightened up and glanced at the Nord, making certain to keep smiling as he addressed Qaralana.
“Is it my imagination,” he asked quietly, “or is that rather imposing Nord gentleman staring at us?”
Qaralana’s brows furrowed for a moment. Her head swiveled to look at Brynjolf and then back to grin at Dale.
“That large Nord is my daddy. Brynjolf.”
By the Nine. What were the chances?
“I’ve met Brynjolf before. He’s your father?”
“Yes. Sure is. My mama is Redguard. My brother and I both have darker skin than Daddy, as you can see.”
“Oh, I wasn’t…” Dale fumbled about, but not for the reasons she might have thought. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything about your parentage. I’m just very surprised to have met both of you. But why is he staring at us?”
Qaralana laughed, a delightful sound to Dale’s ears. “Because he’s my daddy.”
“Because… Oh! He’s being protective?”
“Yes, silly. What else could it be?”
Oh I don’t know. The fact that he knew my father and I didn’t is fairly strange enough to me. No wonder he’s staring.
“I never had the experience of a protective parent,” he said, smiling back at her. A moment later, as he studied her eyes, he’d completely forgotten to be nervous about Brynjolf’s scrutiny. This girl was utterly enchanting.
I find myself wanting to get closer and not simply to get my fangs into her. I should leave now, before the sun is too high and I start to burn, or my illusion runs out and I forget to re-cast it.
“I hate to cut this short,” he said quietly. “I truly do. But it’s vital that I get going. I have to meet my friends south of here and… well…” I really don’t want to get myself into trouble. I’m stretched thin as it is.
“Don’t worry about it,” Qaralana said. “I’m busy trying to convince my pigheaded father of something and he’s being difficult. I’m sure we’ll see each other again. I live in the little cabin just west of the stables. Stop by some time!”
She smiled at him, and he found himself utterly flustered. I’d best leave, right now, before I do something I’ll regret. Or even more to the point, I will do something Brynjolf will regret.
“Thank you. I will,” he said, turning to wave before leaving the marketplace. As he pushed open the gate of the city he felt a shudder run up his spine.
There’s something powerful about that girl. And there’s something terrifying about the fact that Brynjolf is her father. I’m going to have to think about that for a while.
He found Agryn Gernic at the far end of the very dark room, seated at the table. Agryn barely turned but seemed entirely aware of his presence, much the same as Nazir had done in the Sanctuary.
“So, my friend. What do you think of your new home base?”
“It’s perfect,” Dale told him, approaching to stand beside the table. “Not only is it perfect, but the proximity to Solitude is perfect and, as you pointed out, it’s just a quick hop across the water to Morthal. Thank you for finding it for me. Not that the cellar in Falkreath wasn’t a good spot, but…”
“But it is on a busy roadway near a thriving town and it would only have been a matter of time before someone discovered you in it.”
“Yes,” Dale agreed. “I think I told you about the close encounter I had with a werewolf. That was enough. The new home is so far out of the way, I think the only other living thing I’ve seen nearby is an elk. There’s no danger of being discovered by accident out there, I’m certain.”
“And I see you’re in your new armor, as well,” a light voice called to him from the other side of the space. Vyctyna was seated on a bench in a very dark corner and Dale hadn’t seen her on his way in. He walked over to her and smiled, then did a full twirl to show off the fact that the new outfit did, in fact, suit him very well.
“You have good taste, milady, and a good eye for size and fit,” he said with a grin.
He was certain her eyes were sparkling.
“Yes, I do, but don’t tell Aggie that,” she said, following it up with a giggle. “He gets so jealous.”
Dale looked back toward the table and shook his head. “Never. I would never dream of giving our master a reason to be jealous or distressed.” And that’s the absolute truth, he thought, feeling a shudder run up his spine.
While Vyctyna is utterly stunning, that man is so much more powerful than I am – I can’t even imagine what he might be able to do to me.
Even if he is a nice vampire.
That notion was reinforced a few moments later when Agryn called him over again.
“Have a seat, Ondale,” he said, patting the bench beside him.
Dale did exactly as asked, slipping nervously into his seat. He had to work not to show how very intimidated he was being this close to the man who had transformed into a huge, grey creature here before him and had sunk his substantial fangs into Dale’s neck.
“So what’s next?” he asked, knowing that Agryn wouldn’t have just called him over to be chummy.
“Well,” Agryn said calmly, “as you know I’m determined to carry on Harkon’s original goal of our becoming the preeminent vampire clan on Tamriel. There are things we need to do in order to accomplish this. One of these you’ve begun already: re-establishing a foothold in Haafingar.” He paused. He made a sound that was close to a snarl. “Damn him for losing sight of the goal in the first place. We had Haafingar.”
Dale spoke before he had a chance to think better of it. “Who, Harkon?”
Agryn shot him a sharp glance. “Well, yes, Harkon lost sight of the primary goal. But it was my sire, Edwyn, who I referred to. The man went mad at the end. You’d have thought two such enormously powerful vampires would have been beyond such failings, but no.” He shook his head, frowning. “At any rate, Ondale, we’ve been picking up the pieces and we need to move forward. And that includes ridding the world of mongrel, feral vampires and any thralls or subordinates they may have attracted.”
Dale nodded slowly. If I were a normal person I might have reason to be appalled by that. But I accept money for killing, and he knows that.
“Alright,” he said, “I sense an assignment. Who do I need to remove?”
Agryn gave him a slight smile. “I knew you were good at picking up the gist of things. There’s an old ruin called Rannveig’s Fast tucked into the mountains northeast of Rorikstead. Do you know it?”
Dale shook his head. “No, but I’m sure I can find it.”
“Good. There’s a warlock who stays there – Sild. He’s a sick, warped man and you should take great care with him. But more important to us is the fact that there’s a fairly strong feral vampire who has moved in with him. I don’t know whether Sild has been turned or not, but it’s a possibility.” He heaved a sigh and frowned. “We can’t have that, Ondale. There will be others who we can bend to our will, but this one needs to be removed. That’s your assignment.”
There was a silent, sharp, grey steeliness to the words, and Dale found himself having to swallow a knot of dismay and unease. He’d never heard or felt this aura from Agryn before. It wasn’t blatant and it wasn’t loud; but the determination to have the upper hand was as clear as anything he’d ever heard before.
So much for him being nice. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of that.
He kept tight control over his expression, though, and smiled as warmly as he could. “I’ll take care of it.” I’ll just add it to the list of people I need to kill in the next couple of days. Simple.
“I’ll be looking forward to hearing of your success. In the meantime, Tyna and I are working on something else. If we learn enough I’ll have another assignment for you later.”
Dale started to push himself up off the bench and then stopped. “May I ask you a question?”
One of Agryn’s eyebrows rose. “Of course.”
You don’t fool me. There was no ‘of course’ about it.
“What about the business contact I was supposed to meet?” After all, he thought, part of the reason you wanted to settle in here was to be nearby this person, whoever it might be.
“Ah,” Vyctyna’s voice came from behind him. “There’s been a bit of an issue with him. He’s not exactly stable right at the moment. We’re trying to figure out what to do. Once we do, we’ll introduce you. In the meantime, Dale, just take care of these smaller assignments and we’ll do our best from this end.”
Well then. I see that I have been told.
This time Dale did step out from behind the bench. “Alright, then,” he told them. “I’ll be off. People to see, vampires to kill. I have to say it’s a bit odd to be after one of our own kind.”
Agryn didn’t look at him, but the edge was once more in his voice when he answered. “The ferals are not our kind, Ondale. We are in a direct line of descent from Harkon, who had his gift from Molag Bal himself. The others – well, as Harkon used to say, they’ve contracted a disease. Don’t confuse the two.”
Dale nodded and headed for the door.
What have I gotten myself into?
Brynjolf had been arguing with his daughter when it happened. She was still at him to go investigate the cave Jalamar had been whining about for days on end. And he’d been trying to put her off that particular scent.
But it’s too distracting, the power in her now. I hope that Dardeh was able to guide her. She has so much of my temper, and her granda’s temper in her. Chip is worse, but this lass is far too headstrong for her own good. And if she’s Dragonborn…
And I’m hardly a good example to her, am I?
Then she’d stepped away to greet someone who called her name. Brynjolf frowned; it was hard to see Qara being flirted with by anyone, even Ulfric’s son Harald. But this man seemed familiar somehow; and the way Qara’s eyes lit up seeing him had Brynjolf very uneasy.
It got worse when the man she was talking with turned slightly. He’d changed armor, but it was clear that it was Dale Perdeti smiling back at Qara, reaching for her hand to kiss her fingertips, and looking at her with an expression of barely-controlled desire that rivaled anything his late father could have produced. Worse still, Brynjolf was almost completely certain of something even more dangerous about the man. He recognized it, the same way he’d first recognized it in Andante. The man was a vampire. He was sure of it.
His heart nearly exploded. It was too much.
You can’t have my daughter too.