Shade-Eyes, One elf's descent into Oblivion. Options

[kementari]

Anvil; Sun's Dusk 23, 3E414


Playing with a thick black feather she had clipped into her hair, Lily sat on a hill overlooking the city of Anvil. The sun had nearly set in the Abecean Sea, and Lily had watched the shadow of the city walls creep closer and closer to her outstretched feet for the past hour. Now she could touch the dark line with her bare toes if she stretched, having pulled off her softboots hours ago and laid them to dry on a rock after splashing across a stream at the base of the hill.

It had been three years since last she had visited the port city on the narrow spit of western shore that allowed Cyrodiil to dominate the trade routes on the seas. It boasted the second largest harbor in the Empire, with just the great jewel of Wayrest in High Rock offering superior facilities. The docks at the Imperial City, where Lily had been living during the first year of her exile, paled in comparison to Anvil's great harbor. Here ships brought the bounty of the Colovian Highlands and the West Weald to the rest of the Empire; here great and powerful magickas arrived from the Summerset Isles; here the tribute of the other provinces began their long trip to the Imperial City down the Gold Road.

And here, four years ago, one elf had come ashore in tattered leathers, banished from her homeland and grudgingly admitted by the Empire that could not prove her crimes.

Lily knew the darkness in her heart was for the memories of that time and not the city itself, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of the bitter ferocity she had repressed during that first year. Memories of dreams waking and sleeping came unbidden, and she found herself re-imagining blazes of fire licking at the red-shingled rooftops of the Gold Coast architecture so uniformly enforced in the city below.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. The searchlight beam of the great Anvil lighthouse suddenly flared to life, and she blinked at the sudden brightness. The last corona of the sun was receding over the horizon. Lily stood, gathering up her things. She padded over to the rock where her boots lay in the last of the sun's glow and tugged them on, gazing down at the darkening city below.

It hadn't changed at all. More ships were in the harbor tonight than she remembered from her last visit, but the commerce of the Empire had been doing well in the past year, so she wasn't surprised. The houses were still the same, uniform bricks under uniform shingles; the walls were unchanged down to the broken crenellation on the east outer wall; the grass beneath the lighthouse still had that sickly yellow-green tinge that warned of bad soil. She closed her eyes, listening to the call of seabirds on the water, and when she opened them again, the sun had disappeared completely.

Time to move.


***********************************************************


Hasn't changed at all, Lily thought to herself as she hauled herself up the last inconspicuous handhold on the east wall and slipped behind the broken crenellation that greeted her, with a smooth surface and protective shadow, like an old friend. The guard at the northeast tower was still a lazy drunk, unaware of the weakness on his walls, oblivious to the way it welcomed thieves and catspaws into the rich port city's most affluent section. She stole across the battlement to the inner wall and slipped down to the decorative ledge beneath it. From there it was a short jump to the shingled roof of the second story of Anvil's fabled “haunted house”, which could always be counted on to have no inhabitants to disturb with the sound of a landing. She swung herself over the balcony ledge and dropped lightly onto the soft grass behind the house, masked from view by the massive manor's breadth and its proximity to the outer wall.

There she caught her breath, listening closely for the sounds of guards or late-wandering citizens. Satisfied, she slipped around the city wall, behind the fountain gardens facing the temple and through the shadows to the temple courtyard. Ducking behind the low wall of the temple graveyard, she carefully watched the upper windows of the large house that backed up against the temple walls like a devout zealot for signs that its inhabitants had turned in for the night. She clambered silently over the low wall and crept carefully through the garden, aware that the backs of the next two massive buildings belonged to the Guilds, who might yet have members awake and would certainly have guards posted out front. Crouching behind another wall, this one separating the mansion's garden from the Fighters' archery yard, she let a full hour pass by the temple's belltower before creeping across the stretch of open field.

Lily paused at a chokepoint between the city's outer wall where it followed the bay and the corner of an abandoned shack that marked the edge of Anvil's lower-rent district. She glanced up, and her breath caught in her throat.

There was a lit candle in the upper room of the shack. The flickering glow radiated out the window, illuminating far more of the territory between Lily and her target residence than Lily liked. She briefly wondered what down-and-out beggar might be using the tumbledown shanty as a residence, but refused to let herself become distracted. She silently watched the window from her hidden vantage point for a handful of minutes, and when no shadows moved inside the room, she began to slowly edge toward the row of townhouses in the distance. She kept an eye on the window, and by the time she reached the shadowed darkness of the nearest townhouse overhang, her worry had evaporated. Certainly no one had seen her.

Glancing upward, Lily took a deep breath and began to count houses. Arriving at the backside of the correct house, she inwardly cursed her three-year-old memory of the city's layout – this was one of the models that substituted an upstairs fireplace (and resulting external chimney) for a back door. Quickly she considered her options. The front door would be lit, and guards patrolled the streets constantly, so that option was out. The roof, she saw, while terraced, lacked the support beams that indicated a crawlspace between it and the neighboring houses.

Lily chewed on a gloved finger and pondered, stymied, as the minutes dragged by. Several times she heard the mailed feet of guards in the street out front, and she shrank into the shadows each time they passed. The bells in the cathedral rang again, and Lily realized it was midnight.

The candle in the upper window of the abandoned house flickered, and Lily's eyes instinctively flicked toward it. She saw no one, but still she stood motionless for a long moment, pressed against the city's inner wall. Then her eyes widened, and she glanced up at the townhouse again...

...and the tapered chimney leading up to the darkened window of the house's second floor.

Lily smiled.


********************************************


Before the temple belltower could ring again, Lily was back in the shadow of the haunted house near Anvil's east wall. Sheltering herself in the house's cellar alcove, she readied herself for sleep. No one would bother her here; months of living as a vagrant in the town had taught her that the guards as well as citizens of Anvil feared the house's reputation more than they feared itinerant drifters.

The woman died well, Lily decided. No screaming or protest, just a quiet realization that her life was over. She knew the woman to be something of a hermit from her days in Anvil. Rusia Bradus' husband was away on a military campaign, and the woman rarely left the house. Lily wondered how long it would take the citizens of Anvil to discover her death. She fingered her ebony dagger, proud of the new whorl of gold that had traced across its hilt. Lately the golden evolutions had begun to take nearly recognizable form, and the newest addition to Lily's dagger was clearly in the shape of a tiny mask, the sort that would cover face and head, leaving only the eyes and mouth visible. Perhaps she would be so decomposed as to be unrecognizable. Lily smiled at the thought.

She nestled her head against the stone, glad the feather was gone. Even its light weight had become a noticeable presence during the evening's work. Ever since Lily had begun to leave crows' feathers at the scenes of her murders, a subtle signature to her craft suggested to her by Lucien, she had been trying to figure out how best to bring them to the target locations without damaging the delicate vanes. Pinning it into her hair was working for the feather's sake, but Lily worried that someday the conspicuous plume would give her away.

Tomorrow's troubles for tomorrow, she thought, referencing one of Vicente Valtieri's favorite maxims. Content, Lily closed her eyes and slept.

This post has been edited by kementari: Feb 28 2009, 09:31 AM

[kementari]

None of the previous two posts has been edited, by the way. I'll be fixing minor issues as I catch them, but any opinions/criticism is welcome.

[kementari]

Imperial City; Sun's Dusk 27, 3E414


In a manner that was anything but surreptitious, Lily glanced over her shoulder as she strolled through the lush gardens of the Imperial City's Arboretum. A dozen paces back, a genial-looking Breton, clad in rags and barefoot, stopped to sniff the delicate white flowers of a creeper vine.

He was still there.

Lily kept walking, forcing herself to keep her pace even. Normally she would have found it almost insulting to be set upon by such an obvious tail, and Lily admonished herself for letting such an amateur make her nervous.

But it wasn't simply this Breton today that bothered her. It was the heavily tattooed Argonian yesterday, and the grandmotherly Nord woman the day before. Lily knew better than to assume a conspiracy from the actions of a handful of beggars, but something about these people felt wrong to her. It wasn't that they were especially good at what they did; so far, the tails were easy to lose. The frustrating part was that they seemed genuinely to have nothing else to do except wander the streets until they found her again.

She glanced toward the City's outer wall, and the gate that led to the miniature fortress housing the Arcane University. Regardless of whether these people were intentionally following her or not, they were making her life difficult with their very existence. Her latest contract was a high-profile target, and the restrictions that came with it made it the most difficult assignment she had yet received. If she succeeded, she would finally receive the title of Silencer in the Brotherhood, the highest honor under admission into the five-member Black Hand itself.

At this point, though, Lily wasn't sure she would achieve the murder at all, much less under the conditions required by the contract. Her target was a powerful wizard of the Mages' Guild, a retired researcher at the Arcane University by the name of Borissean. He spent his days sequestered within the unassailable walls of the University, now, rarely emerging for any reason. The contract, of course, required that the kill occur outside the walls of the University. Lily suspected the client was likely another high-ranked mage; someone who stood to benefit from a rival's removal so long as there was no possibility that he could be linked to the murder.

The contract had stated “While of course prompt attention to this matter will confer an appropriate bonus upon completion, location, not time, is of the essence. We anticipate this contract taking some time to complete, and are content to wait as long as necessary for the job to be done correctly.” Lily had been observing the University for a week now, and had become only less hopeful in that time. With such a minuscule likelihood of Borissean ever venturing into the city at all, and with so many eyes on her all the time, Lily had begun to wonder how she would ever pull this off.

Suddenly frustrated, she turned on her heel, stalking back toward the Temple district. She held the Breton's gaze with a ferocious glare as she marched past him, and he shrank back from her in guilty fear or innocent incomprehension – Lily couldn't tell which. She strode through the City's main artery, intending to return to the Waterfront and hole up in her little hovel there, nursing her temporarily defeated pride. As she neared the huge gate in the outer wall, she glanced behind herself. Her pursuer was nowhere in sight.


***


Lily tugged the dilapidated shanty door closed and glanced around. The hut – Lily refused to call anything with a dirt floor a house – was a perfect mask for her activities in the Imperial City. She had leased it long ago from a Hlaalu slumlord, and the Redguard who took over when he died hadn't even bothered to raise the rent. Armin or Arnaud, she had never bothered to learn his name. He didn't seem to take much of an interest in the tenants of the Waterfront – he didn't even care if she was late with her rent due to the extended “business trips” she frequently took, so long as she settled it eventually, and Lily had taken to paying well in advance when she knew she'd be traveling. She liked to imagine they had come to an understanding.

Lily's coin was good, much better than that of the majority of the City's well-heeled residents, if truth be told, but there was no need for that to become public knowledge. She sat down on the bed, a lumpy straw mattress on a ragged wooden frame, and smirked at the surroundings. Spare and utterly worthless, except for the weaponry from which she was almost never separated. She owned few items of value, and all of them resided with her liquid wealth in an ensorcelled chest at the foot of Vicente Valtieri's bed in the Dark Brotherhood coven – offhand, one of the safest places she could imagine.

This hut was worth nothing, and everyone who broke in – Lily knew it had happened a few times – could see that at a glance. But this hut was where she had met Lucien for the first time, and so it was worth everything.

Before Lucien, this cadre of trackers would not have troubled her thoughts. The Lily from Valenwood had nothing to lose and represented no one. Now, though, it might not be Lily they were after at all, but the Brotherhood.

The Brotherhood. Lucien. The Night Mother. Vicente. The coven.

Sithis.

She put a hand on the bow that stood patiently next to the bed, and before she knew what she was doing, she had bent the bow and strung it, and tossed the nearby quiver of arrows over her shoulder. She lifted the hood of her thick cotton jumpsuit and tucked it securely around her face.

She would take care of this problem His way.


***


The moon had begun to dip low in the sky by the time Lily returned to the Waterfront. The Breton and the Argonian lay in pools of their own blood on the cobblestones where she had found them conspiring together over mugs of ale, cooling corpses with decorative slashes covering their limbs. One of the men had a black crow's feather tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. The aged Redguard woman lay in her bed where she had fallen asleep, silently smothered with a pillow; a black writing quill lay on a nearby table next to an inkwell.

And three nightshade blooms blackened and crisped in the flames of the shack's hearth. They would be a tentative apology to the gods she she served, if Lily had overstepped her bounds that night.

With a mixture of apprehension and post-adrenaline bliss, she gathered her things together. She would leave before sunrise, head across the river and south to Bravil, maybe even spend some time in the wilderness. The city had begun to grate on her in any case. The contract on Borissean could wait.

Lily pulled open the door. “Until next time,” she whispered to the rafters.

[seerauna]

A post, hooray! Anyways, liked this update I understand Lily's frustration about the people tailing her. Keep up the good work, waiting patiently for the next update!

[kementari]

Pell's Gate; Sun's Dusk 28, 3E414

She was all the way to Pell's Gate before the sun's rays reached her, and her eyes had begun to feel heavy at their first touch. She had long ago exchanged her armor for a heavy robe, and its weight and warmth urged her to find a bed for hire. She pushed open the door of the inn, somewhat tackily named the Sleeping Mare, and the bright-eyed innkeeper perked up as she crossed the threshold.

“Good morning to you, traveler! What can Pell's Gate offer you? Breakfast?”

Lily shook her head. “Just a bed, please.” She laid a stack of coins well in excess of the price of the room on the counter, and began to glaze over as the woman behind the counter, clearly fresh from a full night's sleep, began chattering at her. She didn't have the energy to be annoyed when the woman chose to escort Lily to her room instead of just handing her a key, but in retrospect, Lily would later conclude, she should have caught on to the woman's nervous air.

She shut the door as soon as the woman sounded like she had reached a stopping point in her babble, and let the knapsack drop from her shoulder with a thud. She had her boots off and her robe halfway unbuttoned before she realized she wasn't alone. A man sat in a chair pushed against the far wall, ensconced in the shadows, his face covered with a thick gray leather mask.

“Don't scream,” he said. Lily froze, astonished that even through her fatigue, she had failed to notice him.

“Not that I figured you for the type that would,” he continued, and Lily heard the glimmer of a smile coloring his voice. It was gruff, but not unkind, she thought, perhaps just a voice not accustomed to frequent use. “Sit down,” he said, and gestured to her half-unbuttoned robes. “And please, by all means, take a moment. I would advise against trying to pull that astonishingly beautiful knife on me, though, as I'm quite harmless until threatened.”

Lily studied him for a moment, and then turned away, keeping the corner of her eye fixed on him as she fastened the buttons up to the neck of the garment. She turned around slowly and leaned against the wall opposite him.

“Please, sit down,” he said again. Lily still couldn't detect malice in his voice, but she knew too well that simply because she couldn't hear it did not mean it wasn't there. “I'd prefer to stand,” she returned, and the harsh rasp of her voice belied her fatigue. To her own ears, it sounded more uneven than his.

He inclined his head. “As you say.” He paused, and the smile was back in his voice when he spoke again. “I am glad, at least, that you've decided against attacking me-”

“I haven't decided against it,” Lily corrected, crossing her arms.

“My mistake,” he replied smoothly. “Perhaps you'll first let me say my piece, before deciding whether to do me in. Where is that delightful little dagger of yours, anyway? The one with the gold filigree.”

She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to hide the unease she felt at his familiarity with her favorite little weapon, which at times felt as though it was bonded to her soul. “You seem to know so much about it; who's to say you don't know that as well?”

“You're right,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “It's in the boot you just took off – the left one, if I remember correctly.”

Lily just held his gaze, her face a mask of stone to his leather one. The left boot had been specially made to sheathe that blade, as had the left gauntlet in her knapsack and the leather-padded small of the back in her jumpsuit. He knew something, certainly, but he was overconfident in his knowledge.

“Anyway,” he said, taking her silence for admission, “I'm not here to bandy about threats or knives. I'd like to offer you a business proposition.”

Lily's lip curled. “There are generally less dangerous ways to go about doing such a thing.”

“Than surprising a talented assassin in her bedroom? I'm sure I agree,” he said easily, and a shiver ran down Lily's back. This man knew far too much for her tastes. “But, you see, it's somewhat difficult for me to go about publicly – a concern I know you've shared, so I'm sure that in this regard at least, you'll overlook the unorthodox methods my identity necessitates that I employ.”

Lily chewed on her tongue. “Get to your point, old man,” she said. “I don't care about your identity.”

“And I would not trouble you with it, but for its relevance to my proposition,” he responded smoothly. He leaned forward in his chair. “You may be familiar with the nebulous, possibly-existent organization known as the Thieves' Guild, and its allegedly immortal and greatly exaggerated leader, the Gray Fox.” He touched his fingers to his forehead in an imitation of a nobleman's salute. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

You could join the Thieves with fingers like that... Vasha's left-handed compliment rang in Lily's ears. “I've heard rumors,” Lily replied. “I'm not sure about being pleased or acquainted, though.”

He crossed his arms. “You're a prickly one, aren't you? Well, perhaps all the better. My situation is this: My followers are forbidden from shedding blood, innocent or otherwise, during their assignments. This is a policy I instituted and one I personally police – I abhor wanton bloodshed.”

“What a coincidence,” Lily muttered. “I abhor theft.”

“Not much of a wood-elf, then, are you?” he shot back. Under Lily's acrid glare, he continued. “Of course, as soon as one invents a rule to which one plans to religiously adhere, the universe takes its pains to see to it that that precise rule needs to be broken.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the foot of the bedframe. “I have a job I need done, and a lot of people are going to need to die in the process of the doing. I can't ask my followers to break one of our most important rules, so I've been looking around for an outsider.”

“I see,” Lily said. “Am I the only outsider you've approached?”


“Honestly, so far, yes,” he replied easily. “I've had my best people watching the entire province for months, and you've got quite the reputation with the skulks.” He paused, as though considering his words. “Though I have to say, none of their reports held a flickering candle to personally watching you work.”

Lily barely kept her surprise from showing. “...Anvil. The abandoned house. That was you.”

“The very same,” he agreed. “You have quite the talent, you know. If even a tenth of my people were as good as you, the province would be devoid of riches within a month.”

“I suppose it's a good thing they aren't, then,” she responded. “I'm sorry, Mr. Fox, but you're going to have to find another outsider. I don't work with criminals.” She stepped aside and gestured to the door, intimating that he should leave.

He was still for a moment, and then relaxed back into the chair, shoulders slumping a little. “So that's it, is it? I... well. I suppose I know better than to get into a discussion on the nature of criminality with a member of the Dark Brotherhood.” He stood, but didn't move toward the door. “You haven't heard what I could offer you in return for your services.”

“I don't need to,” she responded. “Nothing you could offer me would interest me.” Even as she said it, though, she felt a twinge of remorse at seeing the obvious disappointment in the stranger's manner.

He remained standing, arms folded over his chest. “Consider it, would you? I strongly believe we could be of great service to each other.”

“I don't think so,” Lily said flatly. Then a thought occurred to her. “But if you would be so kind as to keep your 'people' from constantly following me, from now on, I'd certainly appreciate that. It's impossible to get any work done in the City when I'm tripping over curious beggars every block.” The words were out before she had thought them through, and she wondered why she was being so open with this criminal, this stranger.

He nodded. “I apologize. It wasn't our intent to get in your way.” He took a few steps toward the door, and Lily, a little chagrined, bent down to move her things out of his way, easing his path. He paused while she worked, and in a thoughtful tone of voice asked, “Out of curiosity, who is your mark?”

“None of your people, so far as I know,” Lily responded, heaving the knapsack onto the bed and kicking her boots underneath it. Then, in spite of herself, she found herself continuing. “A wizard in the Arcane University, and he's proving to be quite an annoyance.”

“Why?” the Fox asked, and quickly added, “Not to pry, of course – I just wonder if I might be able to help.”

Lily blinked. “Help? You... You know what we do, right?”

He spread his hands. “Desperate times.”

She studied him for a moment, and then, hesitantly, explained the difficulty of her situation, noting how long she had already spent watching the University and unsuccessfully willing him to emerge. He listened intently, nodding at times and making sympathetic noises at others. As she wound down, he cocked his head to the side and regarded her thoughtfully.

“What?” she snapped, suddenly defensive.

“It sounds like... well. Hm,” he began, and then shook his head, continuing in a tone that indicated he was pleased with himself not a little. “My dear, it sounds like what you need is a large network of unobtrusive spies with nothing better to do than sit around watching the gates of the University.” He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes visible behind the mask at this distance. “What do you say? Consider it a free trial. You'll see just how useful my associates can be, and if you change your mind, you'll have full use of the guild's resources in exchange for helping me with my little problem.”

Lily chewed on her lip. “Nothing's free. What's the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, and laughed, a more inviting sound than Lily would have expected. “And believe me when I say how unusual that is for a man in my line of work to be able to truthfully say.” He chuckled again, ruefully. “I just... really, really want you for this job.”

“I gathered that,” Lily said dryly. “I expect not every inductee to your little ring of pickpockets gets approached this way.” She studied the flame of the candle in the corner, thinking of that night in Anvil. “All right,” she said, grudgingly. “Have them watch for him. But not one of your 'people' sees my face, or attaches me to this guy.”

He chuckled. “You don't want to make this easy on us, do you? Well, I think I can handle that request.” He folded his arms again. “Thank you for reconsidering.” He lifted his left hand. On its middle finger resided a large signet ring in the shape of a sleeping fox. “Be on the lookout for my signal.”

“I'm not reconsidering,” Lily said as he passed her on his way to the door, but her voice sounded a weak protest even to her own ears. “I'm just... seeing what you're made of.”

He half turned to face her again as he opened the door, and in that moment, his eyes were sad. “You will,” he said, and then he was gone.

This post has been edited by kementari: Jun 8 2009, 09:48 AM

[kementari]

A post, hooray! Anyways, liked this update I understand Lily's frustration about the people tailing her. Keep up the good work, waiting patiently for the next update!

Thank you very much, Seerauna! Life's been full of complicated events in the last.. oh, hell, couple of years, but Oblivion remains an escape. This story is a long one that may never be finished except in my head, so I certainly applaud anyone who's willing to sit back and patiently wait for my sporadic updates and mediocre storytelling.

[kementari]

Imperial City, Sun's Dusk 30, 3E414


I was tending my post as usual – the bridge between the Imperial City and the Arcane University. Not much traffic there on a normal day, and with it pouring so bad today there was even less. Only person I saw for most of the day was a kid, huddled up on the railing midway across the bridge. Skinny kid, dressed in rags. Normally I'd chase a vagrant like that off, but there's an overhang near the City I like to stand under when it gets rainy, and you know how heavy our armor is. Clanking around with rust getting in the joints wasn't my idea of a good time. Anyway, he scooted soon enough. Some fancypants from the University came over around lunchtime, and he must've yelled at the kid or something. Kid took off like a shot.
- Dyus Mido, Imperial Legion guardsman

I simply cannot abide the abhorrent state of things in our fair City any longer. No one has any manners anymore, nor do they think to pass them on to their offspring. And the lower classes are the worst! Just today, an unfortunate woman came in to sell some clothing. We were settling on a price when a barefoot, dirty-faced youngster nearly threw my shop's door off its hinges! He proceeded to tug at her skirts and repeat “He's here, Mama,” until she abruptly scooped up the fabrics and left without even an apology! The nerve.
- Jensine, secondhand goods merchant

You know, some guys are really hen-pecked these days. Poor fellas. I couldn't stand it, myself. Guess that's why I never got a woman of my own. Saw a guy today, right in the middle of a mug of ale, right down at the other end of the bar there. His ol' lady comes in, all a-bustle, and she grabs him by the ear and near about chews his nose off with her scoldin'. He leaves, all meek-like, and us guys in the bar have a good laugh about it. Wonder how many o' them went home to a bag just like her, though...
- Algot the Northerner, barfly

Amusei is frustrated. Sometimes it seems he will never make it into the Thieves' Guild. The dark human, Armand-Christophe, says he will meet Amusei today at the fourth bell! Yet when he goes to the house of Armand-Christophe, Amusei finds no one. Amusei asks around and finds that Armand-Christophe has some “business”. Business that is more important than Amusei!
- Amusei, itinerant and Thieves' Guild hopeful

I'm not lying, Rolf! You're just jealous that Armand never asks you to deliver letters. Although I couldn't peek at this letter, it had a big lump of wax on the front. I don't know what it said. No, I can't tell you where I took it, Armand made me promise. He gave me a whole septim for it. No, I promised! Thieves' Honor, remember? Well... I guess if you let me in your clubhouse... maybe. But you can't tell Armand!
- Anja, six years old, pickpocket


The rain thundered on the roof of Lily's wooden shack on the Waterfront of City Isle. It had been falling in sheets since the previous night, when she had returned to the Imperial City drenched to the bone. Now, though her still-damp robes hung draped over a chair near the crackling hearth, Lily was dry and warm. She sat curled up in bed, reading a tattered copy of The Mystery of Talara. Sometimes she chided herself for secretly relishing the story of the lookalike girls separated in their youth by vicious bloodshed, but she simply enjoyed the ending – the clever prostitute unraveling a decades-old mystery – too much to rid herself of the book.

She turned a page, engrossed in Gyna's journey of discovery, when she heard a noise at the door. Frowning, she put the book down and stood, shrugging on a thick fur robe against the chill. She poked her head out the door of the shanty, but there was no one in sight. She narrowed her eyes and gazed around more searchingly, and her eyes fell on a crumpled note at her feet. When she picked it up, she realized that it was sealed with a lump of gray wax, and impressed with the image of a sleeping fox.

She broke the seal. Only two words greeted her: Arboretum. Now.

Lily sat still for a moment, wondering whether she was doing the right thing. Whether it had been a mistake to trust the leader of a band of people who made a living being untrustworthy. Still, her instincts had not warned her away from him, and she desperately needed the promotion...

She shrugged off her robe and pulled on the jumpsuit quickly, tightening the leather straps as far as they would go. Her knife went into the sheath at her left calf again – hopefully, she would have no need of it today. With bow and arrows slung over her back, she slipped out the door of the ramshackle hovel as quietly as she could and made for the rooftops.


It's almost a shame, Lily thought to herself as she leveled the bow at the cowled Redguard, who was stooping to pick the blooms of a delicate creeper whose alchemical properties were strongest just after a hard rain. He stuffed more of the purple blossoms into his sidebag, careless of the way the petals would be crushed against the walls of the pouch.

Lily tensed her fingers on the arrow shaft, testing the bowstring. She herself had long been searching for a way to transport nightshade blooms without hurting them. She rather hoped Borissean would be able to teach her something before he died. She smirked and let go of the arrow. As the mage tumbled gracefully into a thick hedge, where no one would find him until the rain let up, Lily could veritably taste her promotion to Silencer.

A shame... almost.