On the one hand, Sloan’s new travel companions were leagues better than her last - they had been on the road for days and not a one of them had commented on or groped her own boobs!

 

On the other, they stood out like a sabrecat among barn kittens. The best method for staying out of view was to blend in with those around you. But a group with what seemed like twin women and a pair of orcs, including the largest specimen of the species Sloan had ever seen, could do nothing but stand out. Only the young male mage, Merks, might pass for normal, but his College robes carried their own screaming voice for attention. Wulfgar had stood out for similar reasons before they had parted ways with him eight days before.

 

To be fair, Sloan supposed, they didn’t have a reason to hide. They were together to rid the world of dragons, not sneak into inaccessible places to assassinate someone. Still, as they stepped through the gateway into Riverwood and nearly every head in the vicinity turned their way, she fought to keep from fidgeting - the attention made her itch.

 

Sloan spotted Delphine the moment they entered the inn. The sometime Blade was playing the part of innkeeper and Sloan didn’t want to risk breaking that cover, so when Aithne started to call out, Sloan placed a discreet hand on her sister’s arm and gave her head a minute shake. Fortunately, Aithne appeared to get the hint and closed her mouth, though her eyes read confusion and surprise.

 

“Human taverns all look the same,” Nyatt commented as he sat on a bench that groaned in response.

 

“You have no idea how true that is,” Aithne responded.

 

There was something dark in her voice when she said it and Sloan peered at her sister-of-sorts. Sometimes she wished she could read minds – actually, she had wished for that ability a lot in her past life – it would have been so helpful! – because there was clearly so much trauma packed into that one sentence. Sloan thought back to the Aithne of before, the one missing an eye, the one who had seemed innocent yet world-weary all at the same time. Whatever her story, it had not been a happy one.

 

“Welcome to The Sleeping Giant. What can I get you?”

 

Sloan turned gratefully away from her thoughts and looked up at Delphine. “Ales all around, please. And I heard a rumor you have private tastings. Is that true?”

 

“I have some special vintages put away for the right guests. But I can only accommodate two at a time. Would you and your sister care to follow me?”

 

“Certainly.” Sloan and Aithne rose as one, then Sloan paused as Aithne set a gentle hand on the suddenly agitated arms of both Merks and Nyatt.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Aithne shook her head as Merks began to say something. “And so will you – Cheyhye will protect you in anyone tries to bother you.”

 

This was obviously the wrong thing to say (or perhaps the right one) because the worry on both their faces turned to instant anger. Sloan tried not to laugh as she and Aithne followed Delphine away from the table and into a room behind the counter.

 

 The room looked like a regular storeroom but Delphine pressed down on the lid to a barrel tucked in the back corner and a hidden wall slid aside. That led to a downward flight of stairs and then a small room stuffed to the brim with weapons and armor of various types along with a giant table with a map of Skyrim laid out, held down on one side by a flat fist-sized rock that had been carved into in some script Sloan didn’t’ recognize. Red ink Xs dotted the map, although Sloan could not tell at a glance what they were meant to indicate – none of them seemed close to cities, towns, forts, or any other inhabited places she could think of.

 

Delphine walked to the other side of the table, looked over the map for a moment, then looked up at Sloan and then Aithne.

 

“That is uncanny. You did not tell me you had a twin.”

 

“I apologize, it did not seem relevant at the time. However, you should know there are at least two more who look like us, including the Dragonborn. Whose name is Sian, by the way.”

 

“Indeed? Well, that is good to know.” A sigh. “It seems you were right. I am glad you are not my enemy, but this…” Delphine tapped the map. “This has disaster etched all over it.”

 

Sloan studied the map closer, but still could make no sense of it. “What are those marks?”

 

“They are dragon burial mounds.” This, unexpectedly, from Aithne, who was looking at the map with an expression of wonder. “Delphine is…that stone had them marked. She is transcribing the map on the stone to this one so she can trace the pattern of the dragons’ re-emergence.”

 

Both Sloan and Delphine gave Aithne a hard stare, then Delphine cleared her throat. “Yes, that is exactly correct. I am Delphine, as you apparently already know,” this with a glare at Sloan, who shook her head, “but I have not had the pleasure?”

 

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I am Aithne.”

 

“You appear to know a lot about this, Aithne. I take it you are also from some other Skyrim?”

 

“I…” Aithne flushed and looked around as if just now noticing the room. “Um. Yes.”

 

“I suppose that explains it.” Delphine ran a hand through her auburn hair. “I apologize, I should have made sure you knew about the dragons’ return and the destruction of Helgen before beginning, since you have been on the road.”

 

Sloan nodded. “We did hear, although too late to change course – we were already halfway to Helgen when we learned it was no more. We would have taken a different route and been here days sooner had we known. Has there been any sign of Sian?”

 

“Not…exactly. But maybe.” Delphine tapped the flat stone. “This is the Dragonstone. As you,” a nod at Aithne, ”said, it has a map of the dragon burial grounds. It was rumored to be buried in Bleak Falls Barrow with one of the last Dragon Priests of old. I only knew about it because I went straight from Helgen to Whiterun to confer with the Jarl’s court wizard, Farengar. Our hasty research uncovered many lost things – more than we likely would have found had I not talked to you in Windhelm. You gave me a place to start.

 

“We were able to confirm your claims that the dragons came back from the dead unless confronted by a Dragonborn. We were not able to determine why that suddenly stopped happening, though. We also learned about the Dragonstone and were mostly certain it was interred in Bleak Falls.”

 

“Ah. So you sent Sian to fetch it for you?”

 

“What? No, I would never entrust someone I don’t know to do a job like that. I came back here to get my crypt-delving gear so I could retrieve it myself and discovered it had been delivered here, to my tavern, in my absence.”

 

Sloan raised a surprised eyebrow. “That…does sound like someone who knew what was going to happen. So it seems Sian is here and alive. That is good to know.”

 

“Maybe? It was delivered by a priestess of Dibella, according to Orgnar. Would that be her?"

 

Sloan and Aithne exchanged glances then shrugged in unison.

 

“None of us met her last time,” Aithne said.

 

Sloan nodded. “Honestly, we don’t know much about her. That seems…unlikely, but who knows? Did she look like us?”

 

“I don’t know. Orgnar is not great at remembering faces." Her face contorted, and she said in a passable facimile of the man behind the inn counter, "She was a woman. She was wearing robes. She said to give you this."

 

Sloan laughed. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter too much. It seems likely she was involved somehow – how else would she have known about the Dragonstone, including where it was and where it should go? The question is, what do we do next?”

 

Delphine cleared her throat. “As it happens, I have an idea about that. I know where she is going to go – and where she will be sent after. If we can get there first, we can force her to come to us.”

 

“I…okay, explain, please.”

 

“She was summoned by the Greybeards. I assume you heard the Shout from the Throat of the World last week?”

 

“It was…hard to miss.”

 

“Indeed. Her first step will be to climb the 7000 steps to High Hrothgar to see the Greybeards. They will begin her training – I’m not sure how long that will take, but I imagine it will be at least a few days - then send her to Ustengrav to fetch a relic they keep there as her final trial before they officially accept her as Dragonborn.”

 

“That’s…how do you know all that?”

 

“I got lucky during my research with Farengar – he had a book that laid this all out. By my estimate, she arrived at High Hrothgar three days ago. Four, if she hurried. At the very worst – if I’m wrong and the training only lasts an hour instead of days - she would still be only as far as Helgen on her way to Ustengrav. So if you leave immediately, you should be able to get there ahead of her with plenty of time to spare.”

 

“All right. Where is Ustengrav?”

 

“Just east of Morthal, where the Drajkmyr swamp ends and The Pale Highlands begin.”

 

Aithne perked up. “In that case, I can get us most of the way there today. And, if what you say is true, we should have time for a quick side trip.”

 

Sloan frowned at her sister-of-sorts. “What side trip?”

 

“Remember Labyrinthian?”

 

“How could I forget? You want to go there again?”

 

“I need to – I need that staff. Plus, poor Atmah and the others need to be released again.”

 

“I…suppose. But we're a sister short this time.”

 

“We are, but Chyehye is very strong and I have learned a lot since then. And Merks is also strong.”

 

Aithne’s voice picked up a certain tone whenever she mentioned Merks, and Sloan was dying of curiosity to know the story behind it, but she passed by the question to ask, “What about your husband?”

 

“Nyatt? He can carry the gear.”

 

“Really? As big as he is, he can’t fight?”

 

“He is strong but he has no talent for fighting, poor guy. Please don’t mention it, though – he has been through a lot because of it.”

 

“From what I know of orc culture, I can only imagine. Can he use magic?”

 

Aithne blinked, opened her mouth, closed it again, pursed her lips, then opened them again to say, “I hadn’t thought to find out. Orcs with magical affinity are rare but they certainly exist.” And here, her voice grew unexpectedly warm. Such an enigma, she was! Sloan itched to crack the puzzle open.

 

Instead, she turned to Delphine and nodded. “Sounds like we have a plan. We should be back in…” she glanced at Aithne, who supplied, “Three days, at most.”

 

Delphine frowned. “If you can get from here to Labyrinthian, then to Ustengrav, then back in only three days, you must be fleet of foot!”

 

Aithne shrugged. “As long as I have been somewhere before and can remember some defining feature to focus on, I can teleport there.”

 

“I have heard about mages who could do so, though I thought it a difficult spell to master.”

 

“Not really. It’s the first…no, second one I learned.”

 

“Well…” Delphine seemed lost for words for a moment. “…I am not a wizard, so I cannot guess at what you can do. I look forward to seeing you again. We have much to do.”

 

“That we do.” Sloan turned toward the doorway, then paused as visions of Kira flooded her mind; especially of that last encounter, when she had learned how Kira had been expecting Sloan to betray her at any moment. She glanced back. “Oh, I should mention – Aithne knows nothing about my mother and I suspect Sian knows even less. Do not fear for your back – we are not here to stab it.”

 

Delphine laughed, and her voice grew a bitter edge. “My guard is always up, no matter who I am speaking with. But I appreciate the reassurance. Know that I, too, am not seeking blood.” A pause, then she cut the small tension with a wink. “Well, not any of your blood.”

 

Sloan laughed and led the way out of the room while Aithne stared from one to the other, her strange innocence back in front, and Sloan shook her head – someday she was going to unravel the mystery of Aithne. She was certain there was something there, some gem of truth at the center of her dichotomous sister that would help Sloan answer the questions about her own life. It somehow, in that moment, seemed a more important mission than anything the dragons presented.

 

 

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