TSSC, Ch 10 – Home is Where the Heart Stops

Veezara and Syn would arrive at the sanctuary by midday. Their progress was slowed by the thief's heavy bag of gold and other assorted treasures, so they had time to talk. During this time, Syn was able to voice her concerns.

"I know what you all must think of me now. Perhaps it would be better if you told Astrid what Motierre wants." She also worried that Astrid would start to target Veezara as well, thinking the Argonian had switched to Syn's side, but what could she do?

"Why is that?" Veezara knew, of course, that the rivalry between Astrid and Syn was what was on her mind. He was really getting tired of being caught in the middle of it. It was obvious Syn knew her place and was pained that if she were to continue on this path, she would likely face the end alone. The jester didn't count for much, even in his eyes.

"She likes you better? When I open my mouth, I end up getting punished lately? Should I butter her up with this ship model? Or maybe one of the rubies in the bag. I'm no expert, but one of them looked damn near flawless." As she said it, her greed overcame her desire to make peace. She frowned when Veezara chuckled at her nervous rambling, and was even more upset at the thought that he may be wondering if she was suddenly afraid of Astrid, which was certainly not the case. In truth, she was nervous about trying to be nice to the harpy, which would be necessary if she was to take the lead on this contract. Her final thought on the matter left her with a pang of envy: Astrid would want to kill the Emperor herself.

There's no way in Oblivion I'm giving her a damn ruby.

Jorrvaskr felt crowded with every Companion present. There was so little going on, Vilkas couldn't help but feel they were in the eye of the storm, and that once this calm ended things would really be tumultuous. For the moment, all he and his restless comrades could do was wait. He wondered if the reason Kodlak called for him was about ending the stagnancy. Vilkas reached the Harbinger and sat quietly, waiting for Kodlak to explain why he looked so uneasy.

"I have hit a stone wall, Vilkas." Kodlak ran his hands through his mane, eyes fixed on the ground until he breathed deeply and looked his intended successor in the eye. The pause was filled with trepidation. "Each day my hope that I can find a cure for this curse falters more than the day before. I knew that because of my past and my curse that my days were numbered, and now at last my light grows dim. If I don't find something soon, I may never know the glories of Sovngarde." Vilkas shared his foreboding, one that was so intense it made his heart sag.

"I haven't felt such a fear for my soul in all my life," Vilkas agreed.

"Answer me this, have you thought about who will take my place when I am gone?" Vilkas frowned at the question, but kept his objections about the topic to himself.

"I assumed Skjor. He is the strongest and the eldest among us."

"Age doesn't always grant wisdom, and you know their heart is just as important as their arm. I love our shield-brother, but do you think his heart is in the right place for this position?"

Vilkas' mind immediately said no, but he couldn't get past all of Skjor's other qualifications. At length, he answered, "No, I guess his temperament is too volatile."

"What do you see in your own heart?" Vilkas didn't like where he was going with that.

"My heart is silenced by my shame."

"I noticed you have been significantly more withdrawn the past few weeks."

"Aye." There wasn't much more to be said, it was true.

"What would you do about the curse if we did find a cure? Would you allow others that join to have the option or let it die with Skjor and Aela?"

"I'd allow it to continue and any warrior that joins the Circle would have the option. If they choose to take the blood there would be no turning back for them and I wouldn't accept an answer on the spot. Once I see they have truly considered the price and still wish it, they could continue with the ritual." Vilkas knew Kodlak was feeling him out to replace him. He went so far as to nearly say it and the Harbinger did not mislead people like that. Vilkas wanted to dismiss the subject. In their time of despair that was the last conversation he needed, but it seemed to put Kodlak's mind at ease.

"You are considering our shield-brother and sister's influence. Good. When the time for my soul's departure comes, the others will have good council." Kodlak stretched his arm across the table to grasp Vilkas' shoulder, offering comfort. The Harbinger knew it wasn't what the man wanted to hear, but was proud he didn't shut the topic down. Vilkas didn't respond to the touch, only kept his gaze locked on the ground near his feet.

Astrid was in her chambers when Syn and Veezara returned, but the loud scrape of the black door called her back to her table by the time her fellow assassins descended the stairs and rounded the corner. She watched as Syn subtly pushed Veezara in the lead.

"Welcome back," Astrid chimed. "Syn, how was your stay in Whiterun?"

"Long and boring. I did meet an interesting lad while I was there." Syn was glad they began with neutral conversation. When they were able to speak of irrelevant things, they actually managed to get along. Veezara started and took a sidelong glance at Syn, wondering if it was the Companion she was about to gush over.

"About time!" Arnbjorn shouted from the bedchamber before walking out to include himself in their conversation. "You could use a romp, other than that jester."

"No, I'm not talking about that kind of interest, you perverted mutt! And Cicero? Where in the Void did you get an idea like that?" She waved him away with a shudder. "Anyway, I mean there was a child I met – one of the Jarl's sons has a rather murderous desire in him. I gave him the means to make his first kill. To see him use it – which I could tell he had every intention of doing – will be entertaining."

"A child," Astrid repeated. "One of importance, no less. The Dark Brotherhood would be honored to have him, if he is worthy. Jarl Balgruuf's children are young. This boy must be impressive to have caught your attention, sister. I was under the impression you did not care for children."

"Normally, that's true. I do not."

"We will keep an eye on him. Now for the matter at hand: what did you learn at Volunruud?" Veezara and Syn exchanged a glance. Seeing Syn was serious about him taking the lead, the Shadowscale obliged, diving right into the explanation.

"This Amaund Motierre is a Breton nobleman who wants us to kill the Emperor of Tamriel. He's given us a plan that includes several contracts that are staged to lure the Emperor to his demise." After a brief silence, Astrid lowered her head and laughed. Arnbjorn scoffed under the sound of her continuous giggles.

"Get serious," he grouched. Syn took the amulet and letter with one hand and held them out to Astrid.

"What's this?" she said between chuckles.

"An amulet that is supposedly valuable enough to be a deposit and an assurance that he is deadly serious. The letter explains everything." Doubt flashed in Astrid's eyes as she took the amulet and the letter.

"By Sithis, you weren't joking." She scanned the lines of Motierre's letter and grew more serious with each kill she crossed. "This is what the Night Mother led us to. And she chose to relay this information to you." Astrid fixed a sharp and jealous gaze on Syn, who once again had to refrain from rolling her eyes.

"Astrid, I'm not what's important here. This is and as mistress of the sanctuary, it's your call. What shall we do?" Astrid frowned at being prompted. Noticing the tension that quickly built between the two headstrong women, Veezara interjected.

"Do we accept it?"

"Damn right, we'll accept it. You think I'd miss the chance to lead our family to glory?" She expressed her joviality purely because Veezara was the one to ask. Inspecting the amulet more closely, she continued. "I'm not sure Motierre is just any nobleman. I'll need someone to take this to Riften and have it appraised. Sister, why don't you go?"

"No rest for the wicked." Syn betrayed the sincerity of her complaint with an eager smile, though she did want to spend at least a day or two in the sanctuary to rest.

"You don't have to leave now, my dear." Astrid purred. "Take some time. The first contract cannot be rushed and there is still over a month before its completion is even possible."

"I'll only take a night off. Certainly won't laze about for a month."

"Good. When you decide to leave, take it to Delvin in the Thieves Guild. He and the Dark Brotherhood have… history."

Yeah, I know. But does Arnie?

Syn was lost in thought as they began to part ways, until she heard Astrid calling her back from following the men to the central chamber. "Sister, one more thing. Cicero has been acting strange lately, stranger than usual. He seems very agitated and is definitely hiding something. I want you to find out what it is. If it raises any alarms, come back to me."

"I will." For once, Syn obeyed without argument and headed for the chapel. She found him in the small dining room beyond it, uncharacteristically calm and quiet. He was distracted from the silence when she approached, and instantly melted back into his insane flamboyance.

"Listener! You're back! You're alive?"

"Alive? Why would you think otherwise?" Behind the wall, nearest the chapel door, Astrid listened for proof of their plot against her. She was immediately rewarded when Cicero spat her name.

"Because of Assstrid. Of course, she didn't say you were dead. No, she's far too careful for that. It would prove her jealousy that you outrank her!" Syn winced at his much too obvious disregard for her. If they wanted to survive this period of tension, they would at least have to be more subtle.

"I don't think so. Cicero, she is the leader of this sanctuary. I'm not going to step over her." A nagging suspicion of her own caused Syn to stop there.

"Ugh!" He threw his hands up in despair.

"That's all I get, Keeper? No welcome back?" When she realized her light tone had a hint of too friendly, she remembered Arnbjorn's ideas about her relationship with Cicero. It had never crossed her mind before – those were the days… The jester was a brother, but there was no way she would entertain any ideas about him. Ever.

"Of course Cicero is pleased you are back. Now go, go see if the Night Mother has something to say! She won't speak unless you LISTEN!" Syn obligingly walked toward the Night Mother's sarcophagus and cleared her mind, open to any words the patron had to share with her after her absence.