Sloan laughed at the client's joke as if it was the first time she had ever heard it and gave him a cheerful wave as he left the room. The moment he was gone, her smile vanished and she rolled her eyes. Why did men always think they were so funny? Especially when they all told the same jokes.

 

She sighed and stood up from the bed, then pressed the button that summoned the room slave before dressing. She sashayed out of the room in her heels and headed down the stairs. One more, she figured, and she would call it a night.

 

Or not. The common room was uncommonly empty. Sloan raised her eyebrows and went through the doorway to the front room, the one she had crashed into while running from the soldiers those six long months ago. Seemed like an eternity. It was most certainly a different lifetime.

 

Kira stood, as always, behind the counter. Sloan wondered - not for the first time - if the Matron of the Vixen ever slept. No matter what time of day or night, Kira always seemed to be there.

 

"Matron? Did something happen?"

 

Kira frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

 

"Nothing. It's just that there are no clients. That doesn't happen often."

 

"Oh, that. No, nothing unusual. It's late - or early, for most people - and sometimes we hit a lull. You can go to bed - it's unlikely anyone else will show up tonight, and if they do, I'll give them to a slave."

 

"Yes, ma'am, thank you." Sloan turned away, but the thought of her entrance all that time ago tickled a memory. She turned back. "Matron?"

 

"Yes, child?"

 

"Um...if you remember, when I came here I was being chased by soldiers..."

 

"Yes, child, I remember. What of it?"

 

"Well...you said I had to work for you until I paid off the amount I owed because of it."

 

Kira raised an eyebrow. "I was wondering when you would remember that!"

 

"I...what?"

 

"You worked off the amount you owned in your first three or so months."

 

"I...what?"

 

"I said, you..."

 

"I heard you! Sorry, Matron," she added with a hasty curtsy - Kira did not like to be interrupted. "If I was done paying my debt, why didn't you tell me?"

 

"Well, you didn't seem to dislike working here, so I figured you would ask when you were ready."

 

"I...but...well, have I been working for free for the last four months?"

 

"Of course not! You have been getting paid. You just never asked for your money."

 

"I...but..." Sloan's mind reeled, kicked out of its banks, started to forge new ones. "May I have my pay?"

 

"Of course, girl. Here." Kira unlocked a cabinet and pulled out a purse. A fairly heavy purse, at least it seemed to Sloan. "There you are. Four month's pay. Don't spend it all at once." The Matron handed the stunned Sloan the purse with a wink. Sloan clutched it like a lifeline.

 

"I...thank you!"

 

"Thank you! You have learned quickly and have done an admirable job. You probably don't know it, but you are the talk of the town."

 

"I...I am?"

 

"Well, certain parts of the town. You understand."

 

"I...I guess. What now?"

 

"What do you mean? You spend your money, you come back here, tonight you work for more money. It's called life. Unless there's somewhere else you want to be?"

 

"I..." Memories from her other life, only months old yet near forgotten, flooded back. "Um...I did want to take a trip to Windhelm. And to visit my family."

 

"I see. Well, you are not bound here - you may leave anytime you want. But be warned - I cannot guarantee a position when you return!"

 

"I understand. Thank you, Matron." Sloan curtsied again and left for bed. It took a while to fall asleep as conflicting desires fought for control of her destiny. When morning (or, rather, early afternoon) arrived, she had made up her mind. The thought that she had family out there, somewhere - it was just too much to bear. She had to know. So she put away her silk dress and donned one of the regular dresses - still higher quality than anything she had owned before - and a comfortable pair of shoes, hugged Seb and Marie, and walked out the front door.

 

The smell of the canal hit her like a ton of stinky bricks. Somehow the Vixen managed to keep the smell out, but after months of living in the clean brothel, the city of Riften seemed disgusting. She wrinkled her nose as she made her way up the stairs to the upper level and then to the front gate, which sat open. The public carriage sat just outside the gates. She approached the driver and inquired about passage to Windhelm.

 

"Sure thing, Missy. That'll be seventy septims."

 

It was a staggering amount, far more than she had anticipated. She peeked into the purse (kept tucked inside her waistband, not hanging loose - she remembered!) and debated, but walking the three-hundred miles to Windhelm did not appeal to her. With reluctance, she pulled out the coins and handed them to the driver.

 

"Climb in back, and we'll be off."

 

In retrospect, she realized she was not prepared for such a journey (and thought, with some bitterness, that the driver could have warned her of the preparations she needed to make). It was a three day, sixteen hour a day trip by carriage. She had not thought to bring food or water, and the driver seemed disinclined to share. Also, Windhelm was north in an already northern province of Tamriel, and elevated to boot, so the weather grew colder the further they went. Sloan's thin dress did little to ward off the chill. When she saw her first snowfall, about a day out from their destination, she was enthralled for all of five minutes before curling in a ball to try to stay warm. She felt like a starved icicle by the time the horses stopped in front of the stable outside Windhelm.

 

She shivered her way up the endless causeway that led to the gates. It was, by fortune, early enough in the day that the gates were open. She was no expert, but she could tell from the worn rock of the buildings and the general state of the city that it was far older than Riften. Most of the people she saw walked around without coats or even sleeves and seemed not to feel the bitter chill that had sunk into Sloan's bones. She made her way to the first inn she saw and entered, then sighed in instant relief as heat engulfed her. She stood with eyes closed for a long moment before someone bumped her from behind.

 

"Move out of the way!" A gruff voice, and a man pushed past her. She mumbled an apology and stepped further into the room.

 

The innkeeper looked at her with a curious gaze, then spoke. "This here's Candlehearth Hall. Great room's upstairs, an' there's a bed for rent on the ground floor."

 

Sloan blinked at her, then smiled. "Thank you. I just want some food, if you have it, and information."

 

"Food, eh? Got some fresh-baked bread an' good cheese, if you're looking for a bite to eat."

 

"Sounds great to me." Sloan sat on a stool as the innkeeper turned to one side and called through a window. "Name's Elda Early-Dawn," she said as she turned back. "What brings you to Windhelm?"

 

 "Ah, I'm looking for a friend of mine. He moved here about a year ago."

 

 "A friend, eh?" A bell rang, and she turned back to the window, then turned back with a plate bearing crusty bread and aromatic cheese. She placed a pouch next to it. "Before you dig in, you do have money, right?"

 

 "Oh! Yes! How much do I owe you?" Sloan dug in her purse.

 

"Five septims." Sloan couldn't keep back the wince, but she dug out the coins and handed them to Elda. "And I thank you. So, what's this friend's name?"

 

Sloan had already taken a large bite out of the bread and unstoppered the pouch, which turned out to be filled with a thin wine. None of it was as good as the fare at the Vixen, but after three days with nothing to eat, it all tasted like heaven. Once she had swallowed, she answered, "Aventus Arentino." Elda stiffened and Sloan blinked at her in surprise. "What?"

 

 "You're looking for the Arentino boy?"

 

"Uh...yes. So you know him?"

 

"I don't know him, no. But I've heard of him. Why are you looking for him?"

 

"I told you, he's my friend. We grew up together."

 

"Well." Elda seemed to soften a bit. "How long has it been since you've seen him?"

 

"Over a year."

 

"Well." Again. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but he's gone mad."

 

Sloan paused with a hunk of break halfway to her mouth. "What?"

 

"I'm telling you, he's mad. Rumor is..." she leaned in close and whispered, "...his is trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood." She kept her head close, waiting for a reaction. Sloan just blinked.

 

"The what?"

 

Elda leaned back and frowned at her. "What are ya, deaf? I said he's doing the Black Sacrament! He's trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood!" She had stopped shrouding her voice, and now others in the room were looking in their direction. She cast a hasty glance around and leaned forward to begin whispering again. "They're assassins, dark devils. The only time to see them is just before you die."

 

"Why would he be trying to summon demon assassins?"

 

"I told you why! Because he's mad! Stay away from that accursed house!"

 

Sloan finished her food and shook her head as she stood. "I can't. He's my friend. If he needs help, I need to help him. Can you tell me where his house is, please?"

 

Elda stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "It's your death. It's actually close by - just go out the front door and around the corner twice, then straight on. Look for the door under the gantry. Don't say I didn't warn you!"

 

"I won't. Thank you!" She walked back out the front door, leaving behind murmurs. It didn't feel so cold this time, probably due to the wine swimming in her stomach. She glanced down and realized she was still holding the leather flask. She shrugged and took another drink from it, letting it warm her insides even as the cold assaulted her outside, as she made her way to Aventus’.