Kureeth's scales cringed away from his wet furs. He trod with Ursula back to the altar room. The draugr still lay dead, the doorway behind the altar still lay open. The skull still lay in the centre of the room. Kureeth walked past it and examined the altar. There was a small depression in the stone where the skull must have rested, though he had an odd feeling that putting it back there wouldn't stop the whistling that still lurked around the back of his awareness.

"You haven't asked," said Ursula.

Kureeth raised his eyebrows at her.

"About why I hid my magic," she said.

Kureeth shrugged. "I meant what I said," he said. "Past is past."

Ursula looked around at the fallen undead and folded her arms. Her furs were sodden thanks to the unexpected swim and he expected that like him, now that the rush of the fight was wearing off, she was beginning to feel the chill. At least there was no wind.

"Have you heard about what's been happening on Solstheim?" she asked.

Kureeth shook his head. He could point to the island on a map, but that was close to the extent of his knowledge.

"The housecarl," said Ursula. "He said you fought with the Dragonborn? You . . . you know her?"

Kureeth nodded. Gylhain, her name was. He supposed he hadn't spent that much time with her, yet that group of people—including his wife Falin and Vash the Archmage among others—remained strong in his mind. Everything Thonjolf had said about the battle at Helgen had been true, more or less.

He realised now why there had been something odd about Ursula, why she'd seemed out of place even though she was a Nord in Skyrim. She was from Solstheim. An ocean and a world apart. He wondered if he should have noticed an accent, or if she'd been disguising hers. He then leapt to the next conclusion: the Dragonborn was on Solstheim. Vanished after the battle at Helgen, not even those who'd known her longest seemed to know where she'd disappeared to. Kureeth supposed an island out at the far end of nowhere was a good place to vanish.

"She, uh," Ursula was saying. "I made some bad choices. When the power starts whispering in your ears it's . . . you can't . . ."

"I know," said Kureeth.

"No, you don't," said Ursula. "I worked for this . . . this madman. Called himself Miraak. Brainwashed me or something. Like I could tell I didn't want to do what I was doing but I was doing it anyway. The Dragonborn, she killed him." She pulled off her gloves and started wringing water out of them. "When I got my mind back I hoped there'd just be a blank bit in my memory. But I remember everything I did. That . . . we were trying to . . ."

"You don't owe me an explanation," said Kureeth. Ursula looked to be about to protest, so he added, "If it helps to talk, I'll listen. If it doesn't, then leave it where it is."

"The past?" she asked with a bitter smile. Kureeth nodded.

He looked around for a blunt object. The room was notably empty of treasure—apart from the quicksilver veins, he supposed. He heaved up one of the sarcophagi lids from where they'd dropped and the muscles in his arms bulged. He dragged it until it was positioned above the carved skull, lifted it high, then dropped the lid and jumped back.

He heard the crunch and saw pieces of the skull escape from under the side of the lid. The whistling heightened then, to the forefront of his mind, but not overwhelmingly so. From the place where the skull had cracked apart, a silvery mist rose through the sarcophagus lid. It hovered at head height and gradually formed into a humanoid shape. Kureeth thought he could see some similarities between it and the draugr deathlord that lay out on the bridge.

Ursula had a spell ready, but he gestured at her to lower it. She did, reluctantly. From beneath the stone floor rose two other figures of silvery mist, each taking a spot on either side of the first. With a sigh, the central figure dissipated and was gone. With it went the whistling.

Ursula worked her fingers around in her ears. "How long have we been hearing that?" she asked.

Kureeth watched as the remaining two figures looked at them for a moment. He felt a vague sense of gratitude, though he did not know where it came from. Then the two figures turned and walked slowly but gracefully around the altar and through the door behind it. Kureeth looked at Ursula, then followed.

The back room had been the victim of a cave-in. Apart from a crumbled seat where the deathlord must have sat, the rest of whatever else lay in the ruin was lost to a wall of rubble. The two silvery figures walked through it without hesitation and were gone. Kureeth watched the places where they'd disappeared, his earholes straining for more whistling, but there was nothing.

"What just happened?" asked Ursula.

Kureeth grunted. "Restless dead," he said.

"Oh, so you're a hero who goes round lifting curses in his spare time," said Ursula. "Thonjolf was right, you're wasted on this place."

Kureeth smiled. "This is exactly the place that needs me," he said.

It took them some time to get Relbray's body up to the mine. They left it packed in snow to preserve it and set about drying their clothes off. The whistling wind now had a pleasing banality to it after the shredding sounds they'd experienced below.

"By the way," said Ursula, in some of Angrenor's old furs, aiding the drying with a tentative fire spell, "did we sort out who poisoned the bread?"

Kureeth, dressed only in a spare pair of thin trousers, pulled on the first of his successfully dry clothes: warmed boots. He wasn't sure how to answer the question, really.

"It's sorted," he said. Nobody would be poisoning each other in Whistling Mine again, at least for now. He started rummaging around for some food. On a whim, he searched Relbray's things and found the missing poisoned half-loaf, going bad despite the cold. He tossed it into the fire and kept looking for something else.

They were toasting some carrots when Astene entered the mine. Silently she came and crouched at the fire, warming her hands.

"Masa's going to live," she said eventually. "Wants to get back to work, if you can believe that."

Kureeth could. He passed Astene some cold water and she drained the tankard in one gulp.

"Until he gets better," she said, "and I can hire some new workers . . . I'd like you two to stay on and run things. I know you've both had better offers, but I'd be willing to pay you double."

"I'll do it," said Ursula. She grinned at Kureeth, who rolled the idea around his head for a few seconds before nodding. Astene looked relieved.

It was at that point that Falin entered the mine, closely followed by Vash, the Archmage. Kureeth embraced his wife.

"Came as soon as I heard," she said. "I go away for two days and look what happens. And why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"Sorry I missed it," said Vash, smiling. "Whatever it was."

Ursula was looking at him with some apprehension. He extended a hand towards her, which she shook.

"Look," he said. "No pressure to join the College. Gods know we all have our own problems. But the offer stands, for whenever you're ready."

Astene stood. "I've got to get back," she said.

"I'll come with you," said Vash. He pointed at Kureeth. "But I'll be back. I want a guided tour, and I want to hear every word of what happened." The Archmage and the mine owner exited the mine.

"So," said Falin. "Turns out fancy nobles in Solitude pay big money for quality enchantments. Did so well, Sergius gave me a bigger cut."

"Tell her about the double pay," said Ursula.

"Double pay?" Falin asked. She bumped up against Kureeth. "Guess we better see about getting a house, now that we're loaded with all this gold." She looked up and around at the interior of the mine. "Does the wind always make that noise coming through here?"