Nora decided it was time to see Markarth. She had heard much about the city, built amongst Dwemer ruins. It was a part of Skyrim she had yet to see, and teleportation was not an option for much of the trip. They could teleport the three hundred odd miles down to the crossroads, twenty jumps in two hours without pushing it. Then the two hundred and sixty miles by road to the Reach Hold capital with Thundering Hooves. That would take the rest of the day and more than half of the next, but once she reached Markarth, it and all points in between would be teleportation targets.

 

Delphine had asked Nora to meet her in Riverwood in ten days, the time it would take the Blade to cover the distance with long days rides. Nora thought two weeks would serve just as well. After all, reading through the files she had found nothing to indicate that the Thalmor knew where the dragons were coming from. Some thought they had been brought back by Talos, the temporal aspects of dragons cementing linear time. Others thought no such thing, but were determined to use the resurgence of dragons, and the chaos they were bringing, to advance their own plans. Either way, it wasn't information that Delphine could readily put to use.

 

The file on Esbern was interesting, but not really applicable to their situation. An old man who had been the archivist of the Blades in his younger years, the Thalmor thought he might know where the dragons were coming from. They thought he was hiding out in Riften, though not his exact location. All well and good, but Nora already knew what she needed to know about the dragons returning. Alduin was back, he was raising dragons, and nuff said.

 

Ulfric's dossier was of much more interest. The Thalmor listed him as an asset, one they had manipulated in the past. And were claiming to manipulate now, though not as directly. Ulfric might not even know he was dancing on the strings of a Thalmor puppet master. If word got out, his cause might falter. Since Nora still wasn't sure which side to support, she thought it best to keep that information under wraps. It was ammunition that could be used when the time was right.

 

There were other files, one on Vittoria Vici, the head of the East Empire Trading Company in Skyrim, and all the troubles that organization was undergoing, as well what the Thalmor could aid in disrupting their operations. They characterized Jarl Elisif as easy to manipulate in her file, with the caution that the Jarl, if she knew what was going on, would dig in her heels and resist. Nora made it a point to let Elisif look over her file when they returned to Solitude. Tullius was said to be incorruptible. Not a good thing according to the Thalmor, but one they could work with. And then there was Erikur, a Thalmor asset who they had helped to flee Solitude after he had made the mistake of hiring an assassin to kill one Nora Jane Adams. There was a plan to help him return to Haafingar, to take care of Elisif if the need arose.

 

It seemed that the bastards had their fingers in every pie. They were using the current strife to weaken the Empire, while building up their own strength. And according to everything she read, they were going to strike soon. What soon meant to elves who lived for centuries was anyone's guess. Even Eldawyn couldn't help her there. Some elves thought of time in the terms of the shorter-lived races around them, while others took the long-term view. Whichever it was, Nora felt it her duty to disrupt their plans by any means possible.

 

The first opportunity came when they moved up behind a half dozen Thalmor on the road. The leader glared at the party, and when Nora held up a hand to stop them, he stormed over.

 

“We are on official Thalmor business,” growled the mage, glaring up at Nora as she sat her horse. “We are here to enforce the White Gold Concordant, and you are interfering with our business.”

 

“We're just using the road,” said Nora. “Same as you. So what's the problem?”

 

“You are in our way, human,” said the elf, putting emphasis on the racial term as if it were excrement.

 

The other Thalmor were talking among themselves in Altmer, making comments about the mental deficiency of humans, and how a whore of an Altmer could stand their presence.

 

“So, you pointy eared bastards actually think you are better than us,” said Nora in Altmer, earning glares and expressions of surprise.

 

“We are better than you,” roared one of the soldiers, stepping forward and drawing his sword. “And soon you will be taught to bow to your betters.”

 

“Off of your horses,” shouted the leader, his hands glowing with electricity. “In the name of the White Gold Concordant, you are to come with us for questioning.”

 

“I think not,” said Nora with a sneer.

 

“Then di...”

 

The Justiciar never got the word out, as a pair of ice spikes plunged into him from the hands of Nora and Eldawyn. J'Zargo and Sofia threw area effect spells over the other Thalmor, Ice Storm and Fire Storm. The soldiers cried out in pain and panic, not finished, but on the way to that state. Lydia, Elesia and Jordis sent arrows into their selected targets, while Valdimar rode his horse to the rear of the column and crushed the skull of that elf with his hammer.

 

Nora dismounted and knelt by the side of the Justiciar, who was struggling to draw breath with a spike through his chest. The mage cast healing, drawing a complete breath, then started in on another spell. Stopping as he felt Nora's blade against his throat.

 

“Still feeling superior?” asked the Dragonborn.

 

“We've found black soul gems,” called out Sofia, holding up a bag.

 

“And what were those for? To trap the souls of Talos worshipers. To separate them from their reward?”

 

“You worshipers of the false god will all be destroyed,” growled the mage.

 

“Maybe so, but you won't be around to see it.”

 

Nora said the words to the spell quickly, and the eyes of the Thalmor widened. “No..”

 

The Dragonborn cast Soul Trap on the elf, then sliced her knife across the Thalmor's throat. The horror in the elf's eyes showed that he knew what was happening as his soul was pulled from his body. Nora could almost feel sorry for the man, but the image of innocent Nords being pulled into the gems drove pity from her heart. The man died, the purplish light of his soul flowing into the bag.

 

“Give me that soul gem,” she ordered Sofia.

 

“What?”

 

“Give me the warmest soul gem in the bag. And the rest are to go into safe storage. I will not use the souls of Talos worshipers in enchanting.”

 

Nora took the gem, still hot to the touch from gathering the soul of the Justiciar. Nora held up Dawnbreaker, only holding a half charge, and said the words that transferred the energy from the gem into the sword. She could feel a subconscious cry as what was left of the Justiciar was ripped from the gem and into the sword.

 

“He can rot forever in the Soul Cairn,” said Nora, kicking the body. She looked around for a moment, then pointed to the cliff edge. It was a sheer drop of several hundred feet down to the rushing river in the gorge. “Dump them down there. Elda, you and J'Zargo burn the blood on the road. I want no trace.”

 

“You might want to keep some of their armor and blades,” said Eldawyn.

 

“What for? I'm not going to use them?”

 

“No, but you can melt it down at a smelter and get some Malachite and Moonstone from it. That could be useful.”

 

The party loaded up all the Thalmor weapons, sword, daggers and maces, but left the armor on the bodies. That would help weight them down to the bottom of the river. Maybe they would be found eventually. Nora didn't care. Missing patrols were sure to make the Thalmor more cautious, and that would hinder them in their efforts.

 

The party rode on, keeping a pace of about twenty miles an hour so that Nora could get a feel for the land. They started passing small farms, all with the look of fortresses. Walls of stone or wood around the house and the yard pens. Farmers worked the fields, all in leather armor, weapons strapped on. It looked like a particularly good way to get overheated, and spoke of the risks to the common people in this land. There were also the burned-out farms, testaments to the troubles of the Reach.

 

They came to the first village several miles further. A collection of twenty or so buildings. A smithy, an inn and a common house. A sheer wall of stone backed the village, and walls had been erected on the other sides. There were about a dozen armored guards in the town that looked at them with suspicion at first, then relaxed as they realized they were dealing with Nords. Well-armed and affluent Nords from their armor. They still gave Eldawyn some hostile glances, until they realized that she was not Thalmor, which gave Nora an appreciation for the feelings of the common folk toward the Aldmeri Dominion.

 

They stopped at the inn to get a bite. Nora wanted to keep going, since they still had four hours of daylight. But some food and conversation with the locals was welcome.

 

“Be careful,” said the innkeep, bringing their food, cooked pork and potatoes, along with pitchers of mead. “The road ahead is dangerous, but if you stick to it and don’t wander off, a party like yours shouldn't have any trouble.”

 

“What is the trouble ahead?” asked Nora, pouring herself a mug of mead.

 

“Forsworn. The rebel Reachmen.”

 

“Not Nords?”

“You haven't been to the Reach before, have you?” asked the innkeep, taking a seat at the table.

 

The innkeep, with a captive audience, launched into a history of the Reach. Once owned by the Breton people called Reachmen, who had intermingled with the Nords and other people, they had fought hard against the occupation. Being of Breton blood, they retained a resistance to magic, though many of them practiced it themselves. There were still many Reachmen who lived in peace with the dominant Nords. Farmers, miners, even shopkeepers.

 

But the problem was the Forsworn, those who had turned their backs on the Nord government. They used Blood Magic, which Nora understood to be evil, and constantly raided the people who didn't support their cause, Nord or Reachman. And the innkeep explained about Briarhearts and Hagravens, both of which sounded horrific. Briarhearts were Forsworn who had their hearts removed, replaced by a stitched together construct. Undead, they were tougher than mortals, much harder to kill. Hagravens were the ultimate form of Forsworn witches. Frightening magicians who attacked with pure magic. Nora thought her four mage party could handle them, but resolved to give them a wide berth unless necessary.

 

It sounded to her like the peoples of the Reach were in the right, and the Forsworn were the villains. But, having only heard one side of it, she was leery of making a quick decision. Of course, if the Forsworn attacked her and her people, she would treat them as enemies and handle them accordingly.

 

“We're looking for Nord ruins?” Nora asked the man after he finished his history lesson.

 

“Why?”

 

“We're adventurers,” said Elesia, breaking in. “We're looking for adventure. And loot.”

 

“I don't recommend that,” said the frowning innkeep, shaking his head. “But it's on you.”

The innkeep took a look at the map that Nora laid on the table, his eyes widening as he noted the places already marked. “This many, eh. Well, let me give you a good half dozen in this area. Some will be well off road, and you may have to search a bit. But many of them will be visible from miles away.”

 

He marked one just ahead on the other side of the river, then one a little further on the same side, but well off the road. “Lost Valley Redoubt is about ten miles ahead. You can see it from the road across the river. It is swarming with Forsworn and Hagravens, so I don't recommend that one, but I take no responsibility if you ignore that advice.”

 

He pointed to the next he drew. “Valthume, about thirty miles further on and twenty off the road. From what I hear more of a standard haunted ruin. Draugr, but you've probably faced those before.”

 

He marked one about twenty miles south of Markarth, then another about thirty to the north. “Hag Rock Redoubt. As the name says, probably full of hags and hagravens. This one to the north is Ragnvald, more Draugrs and such. If you want to know more, you'll have to ask someone else. Of course there are lots of caves, abandoned mines and such. All along the river. Avoid this place at all costs,” he said, pointing to the large island. “Karthspire Camp. Another hagraven, more Forsworn, and hard knocks for little payoff. Of course some fools ignore that advice,” he said, pointedly looking at the party. “I've never heard of anyone coming back.”

 

“You've been very helpful,” said Nora, dropping a bag of coin on the table to cover their tab, with quite a bit extra for a tip.

 

“Thank you, milady,” said the man, bowing.

 

The party made the ten miles down the road in about thirty minutes, not pushing it and allowing Nora to get a good view. The country was beautiful. Rocky crags, cliffs, dense forests at some points, clusters of farms at others. The farmhouses had been constructed close, obviously with mutual defense in mind. There were two mines on that stretch, men busy working the smelters at the entrance. Nora paid to use one of the smelters, melting down their elven weapons and coming away with ingots of malachite and moonstone.

 

It was about two when they reached a point opposite of Lost Valley Redoubt. Even from across the river it looked formidable. Multiple levels, all reached by stairs, seeming to go up and up until it reached a height that had raised platforms. A river flowed over several falls to eventually flow into the Karth. She studied the place through her field glasses, handing them around to everyone in the party so they could get a look. There were a couple of people in sight, looking back across the distance, but seemingly not perturbed in the least.

 

“Okay. We'll get across the river by that little island and ride up to that first flat. I want the horses calmed, then we will all assault that position. Shields for everyone that has them, and arrow defense for our mages. I'll move forward with invisibility and see what I can take down. The rest of you support me if it looks like I'm about to get overwhelmed. Any questions?”

 

“Shouldn't we pass on to something a little less fortified?” asked J'Zargo.

 

“Don't worry, whiskers,” said Sofia, patting the Khajiit on the back. “You'll get used to it. And Nora always takes the most risk.” That last was said in a disapproving tone, and Nora ignored it.

 

As they crossed to the small island Nora felt magic. Strong magic. A quick search revealed a shrine. One of the Wild Shrines. Nora prayed at the small shrine and felt a boost in her healing magic. The other mages prayed at it in turn, and the party continued across the river more powerful in Restoration.

 

“Damn, that water's cold,” complained Eldawyn when they reached the other side. The horses had been forced to swim in the center of each branch around the island, which meant the party was soaked up to their hips. Like all waters in Skyrim, except the hot springs in Eastmarch, it was freezing cold, the result of being fed by snow melt from the mountains.

 

“We get up to the top and use one of their fires to warm up,” said Nora. She would have liked to get dry herself, but just milling around in sight of the Forsworn did not strike her as a good idea. There were high walls separating the sections of the redoubt. Each had a wide opening, but no gates. Nora imagined that they had been mostly wood and had rotted away centuries ago. The defenders had placed the spiked barriers that seemed so prominent in the kingdom. It would force a horseman to slow and go around the side. People on foot would have no such trouble, especially the Dragonborn.

 

Arrows started coming down as soon as they were through the first opening. Lydia, Jordis, Valdimar and J'Zargo, in their heavy armor, held up round shields to catch the arrows, the more lightly armored crew sheltering behind. J'Zargo threw a fireball with his free hand, while Eldawyn and Sofia looked around to send their own spells up and Elesia fired arrows from her powerful bow. A group of Forsworn archers took the brunt of two fireballs, several falling to the group dead, two more stumbling away as human torches. Magic resistance or not, they weren't proof against such powerful spells thrown at them in numbers.

 

Nora ran forward under an invisibility spell, striding at full speed, sword out, she ran up the steps two at a time, to meet a quartet of Forsworn running down. She ran into the middle of them, still unseen, then swung her blade through the neck of a Briarheart, killing the undead warrior instantly. Now visible, she pushed her sword through the unarmored midriff of a man with a big hammer, then spun around to slice through the throat of a woman with an ax. The last man swung at her, a clumsy attack that a quick move avoided. A quick thrust through the mouth and into the spine dropped that one.

 

Nora cast invisibility again just before arrows came down to strike her position. She wasn't there, having run up the steps to the next platform. Her people ran behind her, still covering under the shields and catching arrows. Nora came in sight of five more Forsworn, raining arrows down on her people. She cast chain lightning, hitting the one on the far left and watching as the shock jumped to one after the other, until all had been hit. Not enough to kill, but all of them were now confused, and easy prey to the fast moving Dragonborn. She cut three of them down before the remaining two could react. One tried to sight in on her with a bow at close range, a bad move, and Dawnbreaker cut through bow and arms to drop the screaming woman to the ground. The second swung a serrated blade that struck Nora on her glass helmet, sliding down and on her chain armored shoulder. Nora grunted slightly from the force of the blow, but there was no penetration, and thus no wound. She shoved her blade through the man's chest and out his back, then flung him away with a strong swing of her arm.

 

Only one more level to go, and six of the people up there were running down the steps at the Dragonborn, while a pair of archers tried to engage her other people, who were busy throwing magic at them. The people coming down the stairs would have been better served to have stayed in place and used their height advantage. Her people were yelling for her to get out of the way, but the Dragonborn had other ideas.

 

“Fus Ro Dah,” shouted Nora, and Unrelenting Force knocked the Forsworn onto their backs. Several slid down the stairs, to be killed by quick swings of Nora's blade. Another was struggling to his feet when he found himself without a head, his limp body falling back again. The others were to their feet by the time Nora got to them. She ran into one at full speed, using her buckler to slam him back and out of the fight for the moment. She turned in time to catch one blade on her buckler, another on her sword, then struck back to split an unarmored skull. The one she had knocked away came running back, to catch a pair of arrows through his chest. Nora finished the last with a slice through the right thigh, then an overhand strike that cut through the left shoulder and down into the man's torso.

 

“Are you okay,” yelled Eldawyn in her ear. “You're covered in blood.”

 

“None of it mine, I think,” said Nora. She would want a bath after this was over. With darkness near to falling, that meant a very cold bath. “Let's go find the hagravens.”

 

“Sure you don't want to wait until morning?” asked Elesia, setting a jaundiced eye on the steps leading up.

 

“I don't want to camp here with those things up there,” said Eldawyn.

 

Nora agreed. Better to take them out and secure this ruin. “Let's go,” she ordered, casting invisibility and running up the steps.

 

“Why does Nora always have to run so far ahead of us?” asked J'Zargo in an exasperated voice.

 

Because Nora wants to bring shock and awe to the enemy, thought the Dragonborn, smiling as she ran. She came to a stop as she reached the cross junction of the raised walkway. She could see the place where the hagravens had made their nest. And she could hear the faint chanting of a word wall, what she had come for. But she couldn't see the hagravens because of the leather walls that blocked the view. Nora really didn't want to go in there without knowing the layout, and especially exactly where these creature were. She walked forward slowly, ready to cast a ward in her left hand, Dawnbreaker in her right.

 

The attack came suddenly. Purple black light that struck like fire. Nora had enchantments against fire, frost and shock. Enchantments to aid her in regaining health, magicka and stamina. But nothing against the force of pure dark magic. The force that hit her hurt down to her bones. It burned her skin and blinded her. And Nora did the only thing she could think of. Dawnbreaker hit the ground, while she brought both hands together then apart, firing the more powerful double cast version of fireball ahead. She felt her vision fading, and knew she wasn't far from passing out, but she kept sending fireballs into the source of the dark magic, over and over. Eldawyn and J'Zargo were suddenly on either side of her, throwing fireballs as well, right into the teeth of the assault by the hagravens.

 

“Nora, stop,” yelled Eldawyn, pulling at Nora's arms.

 

“What?”

 

“I think we've killed them.”

 

Nora noticed that there was no more dark magic coming at them. Good thing, because she was right on the verge of passing out, and she knew that soon after that she would have died under that assault. She picked up Dawnbreaker and walked slowly forward, her left hand ready to cast. They found the nest ahead, past the destroyed leather barriers, an altar with a dead Briarheart on it, and three disgusting looking creatures, their smoking bodies sprawled around the small area. They looked like repulsive women, their bodies bent, faces extended into beaks. Their feet were heavily clawed raptor paws, their hands much the same. Feathers sparsely covered their bodies. Then Nora had no more attention for the hagravens as the wall called to her.

 

Another word of Become Ethereal burned itself into her mind, doubling the length of time the shout worked for her. The party was looting the nest, finding many precious stones, soul gems, and jewelry. Bags of coin in a chest, and some magical weapons. Not a bad haul, and there was sure to be more in the camps they had run through.

 

The party established camp as the sun was setting. The horses were brought up and unloaded, tents pitched and sleeping furs laid out. A couple of people built up the fire to a roaring blaze with the firewood the Forsworn had gathered. Nora went to the river, up from where it plunged over a falls, and jumped in with her armor, letting the water cleanse it of blood and the foulness she had picked up from the magic of the hags. She climbed out of the river shivering, but quickly removed all of her clothing and jumped back in, scrubbing herself down with a pumice stone she had brought for this very purpose. She ran out of the water, shivering deeply, goosebumps on every exposed surface, which at the moment was all of her. She ran to the fire and stood naked in front of it, absorbing all the heat she could take.

 

“How’s the water?” asked a smiling Eldawyn.

 

“Fucking cold. Freezing.”

 

“I think I will wait until morning,” said the Altmer, laughing. “When the air is a little warmer.”

 

“If you want to share a bedroll with me, wench, you will bathe tonight. I'm not about to touch someone still carrying the foul stench of hagravens.”

 

“Okay, but only if you promise to warm me up.”

 

Eldawyn was shivering herself when she got out of the water, her nipples hard points on her chest. Nora helped her to the fire, then rubbed her down with warm hands while the Altmer cursed all the waters of Skyrim. Dinner was served, a concoction made by Valdimar with dried vegetables and meats, leavened with some fresh vegetables and flour they had found among the Forsworn tents. Afterward, guard shifts set, Nora led Eldawyn to their bed. Where she fulfilled her promise to warm the Altmer with her own body.

 

*     *     *

 

The next day they rode with only a couple of stops to Markarth. They saw armored men and women along the road, identified as the Reach Militia, armed citizens patrolling the valley. The soldiers waved at people they recognized as Nords, and Nora engaged in conversation with some of them when the party stopped for a break. She decided that they would tackle one of the other ruins after they took care of business in Markarth. Right now she just wanted to get to a large city and establish another teleport point, then she could revisit as her leisure.

 

They came up on Markarth, passing ten or so miles of farms. There were side roads leading up into the hills, signs with the names of villages and estates pointing the way. The area seemed prosperous enough, with all the mines and farms, but there were many buildings that had been burned to the ground. There were also the stone buildings with metal doors that couldn't be burned, which must had been prized accommodations among the locals. One small mining community, maybe thirty of the stone houses, sat across a bridge over a stream that originated from a duct in the city itself. On the other side of the large grassy area in front of the city steps was a large stone building with wooden stalls constructed in front, the stables.

 

Nora negotiated for stabling the horses and securely storing their gear, then led the group into the city. There were about two hours of daylight left, and she wanted to get a feel for the place before everything had closed. The guards at the gate looked them over, but since they were armored like no Forsworn anyone had seen, they waved the party through the gate. One of the guards glared at J'Zargo, nudging another guard.

 

“Who's responsible for the cat?”

 

“I am,” said Nora. “Why?”

 

“Watch that he doesn't leave any fleas in the city,” said the second guard with a laugh.

 

The first view they had of the city was spectacular. A large square, maybe fifty yards across, with several stores on one side, an inn and some houses on the other, all made of stone with golden doorways. A couple of dozen stalls were arrayed on both sides of the plaza, people selling everything from jewelry to vegetables to meats. Forty or so people were still shopping, though the stall keepers seemed anxious to get their day over with and go home. A stream ran down the side of the street running up to the mountains about a mile away. There were many levels of homes and buildings, all of Dwemer construction. Pipes rose from various places, steam rising from a few. To either side the large bowl of the city opened up, and houses clung to the rock until they ended against the cliff walls. Barely visible in the distance was the large structure of the palace built into the cliff at that end of the bowl.

 

It was an impressive sight, and a testament to the ingenuity of the Nords to reuse the structures the Dwemer had abandoned when they disappeared. There were some places where structures had fallen into ruble, the huge stones too large to easily remove. Nora caught the scent of cooked food coming from one of the stalls, and her stomach grumbled. She started to head for that stall, noting a well-dressed woman walking away from it with a paper sleeve of food, when she saw a man hunched over and walking toward her, a long dagger in his hand.  There were guards around, and a few of them were actually looking at the man but doing nothing. And it was obvious to Nora that he was on a path to attack the well-dressed woman.

 

"The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!” yelled the man.

 

“Look out,” yelled Nora, pulling her sword and running toward the man, who startled and looked at her. With a look of determination he moved quickly toward the woman, blade raised to strike,

 

He never made that attack as Dawnbreaker came down on his shoulder and sent him to the ground, blood spurting from his deep wound.

 

“I die for my people,” groaned the man with his last breath.

 

Yes, you did, thought Nora. But why?

 

“By the gods, that man nearly killed me,” exclaimed the wide-eyed woman. “You saved my life. Thank you. Here, I was going to bring this to my sister, but I think you should have it.” The woman handed Nora a pendant, gold with sapphires.

 

“And who are you?” asked Nora, putting the pendant into her belt pouch.

 

“I am Margret. I'm visiting from Cyrodiil.”

 

Something seemed off about this woman. There was more to her than being a common visitor, but this was not the time to get into it.

 

“Let's go get some rooms,” Nora told her people, heading toward the door of the inn. She wanted to get her task for Arilwaen done. She walked into the inn, the Silver-blood, and looked for the innkeep.

 

“Welcome to the Silver-Blood Inn,” said a middle-aged man. “I'll let you figure out who owns it.”

 

Nora could figure that out. She had heard complaints from people on the way here about how the Silver-Blood family owned everything of worth in the Reach. Nora glanced around, seeing a couple of Nords, a Redguard and a Breton woman in tavern clothes, propositioning people, leading men off to rooms in the back.

 

“I need four rooms, with two beds each,” she told the innkeep.

 

“And who sleeps with the Khajiit?” asked one of the Nord whores with a laugh.

 

“Why me, of course. And I plan to fuck him. Why, do you want to try him out?”

 

“Friend Nora,” said J'Zargo to her in a whisper. “Do not joke about this in this place. I do not like it here.”

 

Nora nodded, then waited for the innkeep to show them to their rooms. The Dragonborn had noted the absence of anyone in the city that wasn't either a Nord or a Reachman, maybe a couple of Bretons and Imperials. But no elves, no beast races. And here she was bringing in an Altmer and a Khajiit. Well, fuck their bigotry. These were her people, and she would be damned if they were mistreated.

 

She approached the innkeep after putting her pack in her room. “I have a paper here I would like you to give to any interested parties.”

 

The innkeep looked at the paper and nodded. “I'll do it, but I need a hundred gold to cover my risk.”

 

Nora handed it over without question. She wanted the word of Talos spread, and thought it worth the nominal fee.

 

“Can you tell me if you have a shrine to Talos in town?”

 

“We still have a temple, though the Thalmor keep a close watch on it. Go toward the palace for about a half mile, then go up the steps and through a corridor. The temple will be on your left. Go further and up some other steps and you will arrive at the Temple of Dibella, the largest to her in Skyrim.”

 

That piqued Nora's interest. Dibella was the Goddess of Passionate love, a patron of Annekke, who had often talked about visiting the temple. She thought she would deliver the note to Talos' altar, then check out the other temple.

 

It was still light out when she left the inn. Nora walked through the darkening streets, greeting the people who were still out. She missed the stairs the innkeep had told her about and had to double back. Going through the door she found a statue of Talos in a moderately sized room, standing with his sword over the serpent. The room was deserted, but there were offerings on the altar, making Nora think that there were still worshipers in this city. But they had to keep it in the shadows. Nora moved to the altar and left the note on it next to an offering of fruit, then walked quickly out of the temple.

 

Continuing to follow the directions of the innkeep, she found the entrance to the Temple of Dibella. It was well lit inside, luxurious even, and a robed priestess greeted her as she entered. “I'm sorry, but the Temple is closed.”

 

“I was wondering if I might receive instruction in the Dibellan Arts,” said Nora, remembering what Annekke had told her.

 

“I would be delighted to give such a lovely creature private instruction,” said the priestess. “But not here.”

 

“What's going on?” asked Nora, her antenna roused.

 

“We. I can't say.”

 

That was disturbing. Something was wrong here, and Nora would like to help the priesthood of the Goddess of Passionate Love. Especially when she was such an adherent to their philosophy. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment, so she let it go.

 

Nora went back to the inn, catching sight of a tail the guards had put on her, following her down the street. They were very bad at shadowing, and if Nora had known the city better she would have had no trouble losing the man. Instead, she just walked quickly until she reached the inn. It was busy inside, and she finally got the attention of the innkeep’s wife and ordered food, then went to find a seat by the fire.

 

“Thank you again,” said the woman named Margret, taking the chair next to Nora's.

 

“Not a problem,” said Nora, smiling. “For some reason I just can't stand by and watch someone murdered in cold blood.”

 

“I wish more people had that attitude in this city. I hope you noticed that the guards made no move to interfere.”

 

“I did. And why is that?”

 

“You aren't a native of Markarth I take it.”

 

“Nope. I have three cities I call home in Skyrim. My castle, I mean house, is in Whiterun. Then I have a room in Winterhold, and friends in Solitude.”

 

“Castle huh. Was that a slip of the tongue? And the only thing I can think of worth in Winterhold is the College. And would your friends in Solitude happen to live in the Blue Palace?”

 

Nora looked at the woman through narrowed eyes, wondering what her game was. “What do you want?”

 

“Come to my room, where we can talk in private.”

 

Nora followed the woman, wondering what else she was getting herself into. Margret motioned her to a chair in the luxurious room, sitting on her bed.

 

“So, you are who I thought you were. Nora Jane Adams, Thane of Whiterun, Haljmarch and Haafingar. Advanced student at the College of Winterhold. Dragonborn. And the woman who single handedly destroyed the Dark Brotherhood.”

 

“Well, I had help with the Dark Brotherhood. But you have me at a disadvantage.”

 

“Well, my name is Margret. Margret Vici, no relation to the factor of the East Empire Trading Company in Skyrim. I am an Imperial Agent without portfolio. And I am here to look into the Silver-Blood holdings. We think they might be Stormcloaks, and not just sympathizers. General Tullius thought I might be able to procure the deed to the Cidhna mine, the richest source of silver in Tamriel.”

 

“Tullius is not my favorite name,” said Nora, frowning.

 

“I understand that. And I do not work for the general, but for the Penitus Oculatis. They work directly for the Emperor, who has an interest in anyone who can command the Thu'um without training.”

 

“All very interesting. But you have to know that I have not decided who to support in this war. Hell, I really don't want to choose side. I have much more important things to do than fight in a war.”

 

“The Emperor knows this, and wants no pressure put on you. He trusts you will make the right decision.”

 

Even if it isn't him? thought Nora.

 

“So, what can I do for you? And you have to know I have at most five days here, before I have to meet someone near Whiterun.”

 

“I understand. I would continue my questioning of the people of Markarth, but I fear another attempt will be made on my life, and I am not a warrior. Whereas you and your party.”

 

“Okay. I get a bad feeling about this place, and the Silver-Blood family gives me a bad vibe.” She saw the confusion on the woman's face and chuckled. “A term we use where I come from, meaning a bad feeling.”

 

“Oh. Well let me give you a list of people and questions. But be careful. I don't want to report to the Emperor that I got you killed.”

 

Nora left the room, wondering what else she had gotten herself into. She wanted to take some more word walls, explore the region. And now she was caught up in an investigation into something that really didn't concern her. Or did it? She wanted to do good in this world, and everything seemed to point to the Silver-Bloods as being the movers behind the scenes of everything dark in this region.

 

Nora found Eldawyn sitting before the fire in the common room, talking with the Dibellan priestess she had met in the temple.

 

“Ah, the woman who wished to take a Dibellan lesson,” said the smiling priestess. “Well, fair stranger. I am ready to start your lesson.”

 

“Do you have someplace private? In case Elda doesn't want to participate.”

 

“Oh, darling,” said a clapping Altmer. “I have been talking to, Jolene, wasn't it? Jolene, and I would love to see what she has to teach.”

 

“Well, fair stranger. What do you say?”

 

“Nora. My name is Nora, and I am pleased to meet you Jolene. And yes, one of my followers was an adherent of yours, and she piqued my interest.”

 

“The one who died. So sad.”

 

“She was a hero who helped me to save the world,” said Nora, bowing her head.

 

She led the priestess to her room and closed the door behind her. Jolene moved into Nora's arms and kissed her, a sweet gentle touch of lips. They undressed each other, and Nora wasn't sure how three of them were going to fit on one of the narrow beds. They managed.

 

Later she lay with Jolene to her front, Eldawyn to her rear, trying to get her breath under control.

 

“Both of you could become Dibellan priestesses if you wished,” said the breathless priestess. “You have the skills.”

 

“Tempting,” said Nora, “but I have other things to do.”

 

“Like save the world? Don't worry, my sweet. Whenever you give or receive pleasure you worship the Goddess.”

 

“Now that's a religion I could get behind,” said Eldawyn. Nora thought the same. She had always thought of sex as a religious experience, and here, on this world, it could be.

 

“What was all the fuss at your temple?” asked Nora.

 

Jolene was silent for a moment, then spoke in a quiet voice. “We need help. Our Sybil is dead, and with it our connection to the Goddess. We have located a suitable replacement, but she lives several days ride away, through dangerous territory, haunted by Forsworn. We need someone who can look out for themselves, and the new Sybil, to go and bring her back to the temple.”

 

Here we go, thought Nora. Now the five days she had here looked like it might not be enough.