Chapter 45

Arnbjorn was right, there was a blood trail. It started right in the entryway, fresh blood on a table and the floor. I started down a flight of stairs ahead of me. I could see more blood on the stair treads and then on the landing ahead of me. As I started down the stairs, an echoing yell came through the Sanctuary.

“Listener! Is that you? Oh, I knew you’d come. Send the best to defeat the best. Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn’t slay sly Cicero.” He coughed several times doing this, sounding like he was seriously injured.

A door at the end of the landing opened into a larger room, a raised dais to the right, an old garden to the left. A larger room ahead and below, with another hallway leading out. Inside the room, a phantasm in assassin gear waited. I shot it with an arrow. As it fell down, I heard Cicero again.

“Oh, but this isn’t at all what Mother would want. You kill the Keeper or I kill the Listener? Now that’s ... madness!” His voice peaked at the end with a cackling laugh. I could see the room below, with a door that probably concealed him. Unfortunately, there was a raised grate that blocked the stairs leading down. Fine, I’ll do it the hard way.

I started down the other hallway. It led to a bridge over an open floor before. As I got closer to the bridge, some spears from the wall started repeatedly moving in and out. As if that weren’t bad enough, another spectral assassin appeared at the far end. I took care of the ghost first, then slipped across the bridge carefully, avoiding the spears. I wished I could avoid listening to Cicero. “Ouch! Pointy, pointy! My home is well defended. I always have been a stickler for details. Get it? Stick ler?” He cackled madly. “Oh, I slay me.”

Not if I can do it first, I thought. I noticed as I was crossing the bridge several oil pots. That looked like the perfect trap for someone below, so I sent all four of them falling before descending the spiral staircase to the level below. The confirmation that it had been a trap came immediately, as the oil coated floor flared up in a small explosion.

I killed two more ghosts in that room. Following the corridor on, I went up a slight stairway that opened into the larger room I noticed from above when I first entered. I stopped for a moment before entering the room, which I think saved my life. I could see a guardian on the far side of the room, and as I started to draw my bow back to shoot him, another guardian appeared literally right in front of me. If I’d taken a step into the room, he would have been behind me and could have cut me down. As it was, I was able to kill both of them easily.

Now if only I didn’t have to listen to Cicero complain about his traps failing. “You’re ... still alive. Cicero respects the Listener’s abilities, of course, but could you at least slow down a bit? I’m not what I used to be.” He giggled, coughing a bit as he did so.

As I suspected, the door leading out of the room was barred and locked. The left an icy tunnel that appeared to be part of an escape route. I started down it. Cicero again taunted me. “Brr! Chilly! You’ll enjoy this. Not an original part of the Sanctuary, per se. Let’s call it a ... forced addition. Forced by what? Oh, come and see!” I followed the pathway through the frozen cave, soon seeing a large troll in the distance. Again my magically enhanced archery skills assisted me, and the troll died without ever seeing her opponent.

As she fell, Cicero’s voice changed to an even more whining one than normal. “Fine, all right, Cicero attacked that harlot, Astrid. But what’s a fool to do, when his mother is slandered and mocked? Surely the Listener understands.”

I finally replied. “I understand you, oh, too well. You remember our meeting on the road? I knew who and what you were that very day. My family has been intertwined with the Dark Brotherhood for more than two hundred years. It is not you who should judge their actions, but I. And you interfered with me!”

I opened the doorway in front on me, which led down another flight of stairs. A row of coffins were on either side of the hallway, along with two more waiting guardians. The first one died quickly, the second one almost found me before dying.

As the second one fell, Cicero said, “Cicero admits, he thought the Listener would be dead by now. Heh! Maybe we could just forget all this? Hmm? Let bygones be bygones? What do you say?”

“I had a good core of people to work with. By bending Astrid to my will, I could make her believe in the Five Tenets again. With her at my side as the first Speaker, I could have started the Black Hand again. Used this Sanctuary as well. I have long term goals for the Brotherhood that you, you fool, may have now ruined.”

I then faced three guardians. I got two of them, but the third closed in for hand to hand combat. I blocked his sword blow with my bow and began backing up the way I’d come, to give myself room. The guardian continued following me, trying to not let me get another arrow off. He gave me a good whack with his sword that my armor deflected, but I was able to put an arrow into his gut, finishing him. I’d have a big bruise from that one. I killed another guardian on a stairway leading back up a bit.

Cicero decided to apologize, sort of. “If it’s any comfort, I do feel slightly bad about Veezara. Stupid lizard got in my way! But please tell me that hulking sheepdog has bled to death.”

“You forget that werewolves regenerate. He was badly injured, but he’ll recover. And now Astrid will have feelings about him, and not me. Thank you, oh so much for that!”

I finally found the room where he was sitting. He was curled up in the corner, as if in severe agony and pain. That might have worked on someone else.

He coughed out, “And now, we come to the end of our play. The grand finale. You caught me. I surrender!” He laughed, a coughing laugh. I could see flecks of blood on his mouth. I remained silent.

“Oh, you prefer to listen, eh? Of course, of course. The Listener listens! A joke! A funny joke, I get it. Then listen to this. Don’t kill me. Let poor Cicero live! I attacked the strumpet Astrid, I did! And I’d do it again! Anything for our mother! Return to the pretender, tell her I’m dead. Tell her you strangled me with my own intestines! Ha! But lie! Yes, lie! Lie, and let me live!” He lay back. “Do what you will. Cicero has no fight left. In the end, Sithis will judge us both.”

“Do you really think I’m that stupid, Cicero? I know you’re pretending to be injured. It’s not going to do you any good, though. I’m going to ask you a question. You said you never forget a face, and you remembered me from the road. What was I wearing that day?”

“Ha, Cicero has a good memory, Listener. You were wearing light armor the likes that I’ve never seen before. It almost looked like it had been made of dragon scales.”

“Very good. It looked like that because it is made of dragon scales. I read your journal, you hid here for a long time before coming to Astrid, so you’re familiar with what has been happening in Skyrim. How many people have sets of dragon scale armor that you’ve heard of?”

“Again, the Listener is asking excellent questions! Before Cicero met you on the road, I’d never seen that armor before. Must be really rare. Oh, there were rumors running around that there was some daughter of Akatosh, killing dragons and saving all Tamriel. I think the Nords called her Dragonborn. But that can’t be ... you?” His tone at the end was very quiet.

“You know why it was so easy for me to fit in with the Dark Brotherhood, Cicero? I said my family lived near Bravil. That’s because I grew up on the other side of that door in Nibben Bay. You think you have a lock on madness? Try being a child in the realm of Sheogorath, the Shivering Isles, where your mother is the Madgod herself. Your father died before you were born, the last Septim Emperor, saving Cyrodiil from the invasion of Mehrunes Dagon. Oh, and before she went into the Shivering Isles, your mother was the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, a master assassin who trained you with all her skills as you grew up.”

I started pacing in front of him. “You finally come to Cyrodiil and then to Skyrim, to find out about your heritage. Turns out all the stories you’d heard about being Septim, with the dragon blood, are all true ... and they’re happening to you. You’re not just out to find out about your own history, you’re actually fulfilling prophecy. Which is fine, because you’re not just that, turns out that due to your blood, you’re actually the heir to the Septim throne as Empress of Tamriel, but to do that you’ve basically got to become the High Queen of Skyrim first.”

I was on a good rant at this point. “You complain about the Night Mother not talking to you? How about actually having your mother as a Daedric Lord, and plotting with and against the gods and other Daedric Lords, with your life in the balance? And not just your life, oh, no, not just my own life, but the fate of the entire world! Those are the stakes in the game I’m playing. I make my moves, people live or die by my actions, and if I guess wrong, the world could die. And now, look at what you’ve done, without even knowing, as a pawn of a Daedra, not even the Padomay!”

He whined, “Cicero acted as Keeper of the Night Mother. The whore was speaking out against the Night Mother, against the ways of the Dark Brotherhood, killing without a Listener, acting as common assassins.”

In my fury I almost walked up to him, but stopped just outside his blade reach. “Don’t you think I know that? But some problems you fix by changing the person from inside. Subtle, so they don’t know they’re changing. Then you decide on your own to fix a problem, not by discussing it with me, the Listener, the one person who actually can hear the Night Mother. No, you decide to simply cut the head off the problem because you’re not a jester, you’re simply a petty, ignorant, little man. I don’t know how badly you’ve fucked things up for me now.”

He actually looked like he was about to cry. “Cicero ... is sorry.” His madness showed through again then. “So the Listener is going to let Cicero live then, as penance, hmm?”

I sighed, relaxing a bit. “You gave me the answer to that question yourself.” I slightly turned, then spun back with my arm extended. I was out of his blade reach, he was not out of mine. His head went flying across the floor. “Sometimes you cut the head off the problem, and have to hope for the best.”

It was an easy ride back to Falkreath from Dawnstar. Astrid was waiting for me.

“Arnbjorn is safe, and for that you have my thanks. But what of the fool?”

I handed her a sack that I had been carrying. She opened it. Cicero’s lifeless eyes stared out from it into hers. “I think we can safely say that Cicero is dead.”

She looked at me with a new respect in her eyes. “You truly are an overachiever, aren’t you? Very good ... and ... thank you again. Now that this nasty business it over with, we need to continue with our plans. Go see Festus, he has the information you need.”

I yawned, but still sought out Festus. His gravelly voice was more crotchety than usual. “Ah, there you are. Your new target is courtesy of the late Gaius Maro. You’ve no doubt heard of the Gourmet, the new chef that’s taking the culinary world by storm. He was invited months ago to be here when the Emperor came to visit Skyrim to cook for him. With the last minute cancellation, the Gourmet has been kept waiting. On ice, so to speak. Now that the Emperor is coming, you will find him, take his ... or her ... place, and kill the Emperor.”

“His or her?”

“Ah, yes, that’s the rub. No one knows who the Gourmet is. I managed to acquire an autographed copy of Uncommon Taste, the cookbook that the Gourmet wrote, to one Anton Virane. He’s the chef of Markarth. You’ll need to go to Markarth and find out who the Gourmet is from Virane. Once you’ve done that, kill Virane so that loose end is tied up. Then go find the gourmet, kill him, get his writ of passage, and then come back here for further instructions.”

“That should be pretty simple.”

“I don’t know if you’re that cocky or that stupid. Just ... look, I’ll deny I ever said this, but I’m actually starting to like you. So watch out.”

I impulsively gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He sputtered around and then walked away, muttering. I grabbed a quick bite to eat and then went to bed. I woke up several hours later, ready to head out after eating again. Nazir came up while I was heading out.

“I hate to bother you, but ... I have another contract, and no one to fulfill it right now. I know you’re busy with this assignment from Astrid. But if your path happens to take you by Fort Greymoor, there’s someone there we have to kill. The actual victim is an old woman named Agnis, who in and of herself won’t be a challenge.”

“You did say Fort Greymoor, though, didn’t you? Which last time I passed it, was full of bandits. So unless I want to kill everyone there, that means I’ll have to be stealthy.”

“Exactly. No jokes from me about this, it won’t be easy. But apparently she knows too much, so it’ll pay well ... if you live.”

I smiled. “Thanks for caring, Nazir. I’ll see what I can do. I’m heading for Markarth first, then who knows?”

It was the middle of the afternoon when I rode up to Markarth. I again had the stable boy care for my horse, then entered the city proper. I ate at the Silver Blood Inn, then went up to Vlindrel Hall to get a days sleep. Hours later I was rested. More importantly, it was dark. Time for me to strike.

I went into the keep, easily slipping passed the guards. Once inside, I used the standard disguise of looking like you belong to hide myself. I picked up a basket of food items and carried it to the kitchen. Virane was sitting at the table eating a late supper while his assistants did their preparations for tomorrows meal.

“Ah, greetings to you, Master Chef. But aren’t you...”

“Yes, yes, I’m a Breton, born in High Rock, now far from my home. Everyone asks me that. I’m no Reachman.”

“Ah, High Rock, home of exquisite cooking, isn’t it?”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Just one minor thing, Anton. The true identity of the Gourmet.”

“The ... the Gourmet? Never! I don’t know what led you here, but nothing will betray my trust. I’ll take the secret of the Gourmet’s identity to my grave.”

I smiled. “For the Dark Brotherhood, that can easily be arranged.”

“The Dark Brotherhood? Now ... now wait a minute. Let’s not get hasty. I mean, surely my friend wouldn’t want me to endanger my own life, right? Look, his name is Balagog gro-Nolob. He’s an Orc! The Gourmet is an Orc! He’s staying at the Nightgate Inn. That’s all I know. Now ... now you’ll let me go, right?”

“Of course, Anton. Thank you. And of course, we never spoke, hmm?”

“Oh, okay. All right. Wonderful. You’re welcome. I’ll ... just be on my way, then.”

I turned and left him in his kitchen. I slipped back into the main hall, then took up a position of concealment nearby, to see if he tried anything. A couple of hours went by, and things inside settled down. I carefully crept back in, quietly closing the doors between the kitchen and main keep, just in case.

The assistants had gone to bed normally. Anton had as well, but he was sleeping fitfully. I crept up to his bedside. I put my hand over his mouth so he couldn’t cry out while I slipped a dagger between his ribs and into his heart. He’d opened his eyes when the blade penetrated. Softly I said, “So sorry, Anton, but you can’t be left alive since you do know the Gourmet. May Sithis guide your soul.”

Once again I had to cross the realm, from Markarth to the Nightgate Inn. I decided when I was passing Whiterun to head south and take care of the contract for Nazir. It was getting late at night, which would make it considerably easier for me. I tied my horse up at the burned out house just north of the fort and walked the rest of the way.

As I neared the fort, I began carefully choosing where I was walking and being as careful as possible. I decided that the easiest way in was to not be seen at all, so I drank a potion that I’d created last time through home. Being invisible, in the dark, and with boots on that I’d enchanted to help with my stealth skills meant none of the guards noticed a thing. As expected, the invisibility potion was active until I did something other than walk, so it dissipated as I slipped through the door into the fort.

Once inside, I simply stood still for several minutes, listening to the sounds from within. I wasn’t exactly sure where in the castle I’d need to go, so I started off to my right. I went into what looked like a common meal room that was empty. I could see a supply closet across the way. There was a closed door in the room that I listened at for a few moments. I could hear the prattling of an older woman’s voice from within. Could it be that easy?