A heavy storm rolled up in the early afternoon as they trekked east through the swamp toward Ustengrav and Sloan sighed as she pulled her cloak tighter. She was tired of being damp and chilly and would have loved a real inn with real food and a real bed. But Aithne had refused to enter the inn in Morthal for reasons she seemed loathe to explain and had insisted they stay the night back in Narzulbur instead.

 

Which was fine on a day when they were traveling across country – it was nice to have a safe place to go when one needs to rest in the middle of the wilderness – but hardly seemed necessary when they were in a town that had an inn.

 

Of course, Sloan supposed, she could have just stayed at the inn anyway while the rest of them went back, but then she would be by herself. And she had spent so much time by herself.

 

All her life, in fact.

 

Sure, she had had friends at the orphanage. And at the Vixen, at least when she was one of the Ladies. None of them had been close, but until now, they were the closest she had had to a family. During her time as an assassin, she had been on good terms with Gilna and Jorg, but rule number one in that line of business – trust no one – precluded the possibility of true friendship.

 

And apparently her mother, the elusive Melissa Shae, was an assassin as well, so even had Sloan found her in her past life, she might not have found the family she had hoped for.

 

So, no, she had not stayed at the inn. Aithne (well, and Trendil and probably Sian) was the closest thing to real family Sloan had, and that made Aithne’s family Sloan’s as well, so Sloan went with them to the orc stronghold and endured the tough undercooked meat the orcs preferred and slept in the tiny dirt-floored hut they provided and protested not a bit.

 

It did bring up an interesting question, though, so as they mooshed through way through the shallow bogs, she sidled up to Aithne and asked, “Do you know your parents?”

 

Aithne blinked, clearly startled by the question. “Of course! They live in Hammerfell. My father is a merchant and…” She trailed off as her expression turned contemplative. “Oh, I should visit them. It’s been, what, about a month since we got to this new Skyrim?”

 

Sloan did some quick calculations and nodded. “Thirty-three days, I think.”

 

“The Jaunty Spirit should have reached port right around now. Of course, there is always some leeway in ETB, so they probably won’t start to worry for a week or so more.”

 

“The Jaunty Spirit is a ship, I take it?”

 

“Hm? Oh, yes. Sorry. I was a naval officer on it. It hit an iceberg in the Sea of Ghosts and sank. I was…the only survivor. That’s how I came to Skyrim in the first place.”

 

“I didn’t know they employed mages in the navy.”

 

“They do – they’re very helpful for weather control – but I wasn’t one of them. I didn’t know any magic at all the first time. I mean, you know, last time? I…ended up at the College of Winterhold about a year and a half after it sank. Last time.”

 

“Ah. So the ship sank again this time but no one but you knows for sure because it wasn’t due to its port of call until now.”

 

“Right. When it doesn’t show up, they will send out search parties, but they probably won’t find it. Then…they’ll inform the families of the sailors.”

 

“Including your parents.”

 

“Including my parents.”

 

“What are their names, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

“I…don’t mind. They are Shon and Zasa Shae. But why do you want to know?”

 

Sloan shrugged, though her heart had started to pound when she heard the name Shae. “I’m just trying to piece together how we may or may not be related. Do you happen to know a Melissa Shae?”

 

“Um…I think that is my father’s...cousin? Or something? I think she runs some sort of school for swordsmen in the north, somewhere around Dragonstar. I don’t know much about her – they didn’t seem to be close. Do you know her?”

 

“I…know of her. I think she is my mother.” At Aithne’s questioning look, Sloan added, “I grew up in the Honorhall orphanage in Riften. I never even knew I had family until after I aged out. I did some research last time and discovered…clues about Melissa.” Which reminded her, she needed to find Melissa’s old house again. The items in the hidden basement – especially the armor that had saved her from Kira – would be invaluable.

 

Aithne blinked. “Ah. I didn’t know that. Do you think…”

 

“Looks like we might be too late!” Chyehye’ voice cut Aithne off and both turned to find they had reached their destination. The orc woman stood over a clump of something that, as they approached, turned out to be a dozen dead bodies - bandits or scavengers, by the unkempt looks of their armor – laid out in a neat row. Their arms had been crossed over their chests and they might have looked peaceful had it not been for the gashes all over their bodies.

 

Nyatt let out a low whistle. “If this was your Dragonborn’s work, she must be mighty indeed.”

 

“Or she had allies,” Merks suggested. “Look at those cuts – some of them are from a blade, others have scorch marks, as if cut by flame. I would guess there were at least two people. Probably more, to defeat a dozen opponents.”

 

Sloan looked over the bodies then over the area, which was set up as a campsite. “I agree there were at least two. But there didn’t necessarily need to be too many more. I know people who could have done this by themselves.” Three people, in fact. Although Sloan had killed one of them in the Riften prison.

 

Chyehye looked around as if expecting enemies to rush out of the trees at any moment. “These people died recently. As recently as a handful of hours ago, at most – they are cold but have not yet begun to stink. Could be their killers have left. Could be they’re still here. Or maybe…” She turned and looked at the entrance to the ruins. “…they’re in there.”

 

Sloan shrugged and tugged off her cloak so her arms would be free of it. “I guess there is only one way to find out.”

 

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This is just a section break, there is more below

 

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“You were right.” Sloan sighed as she sheathed her daggers. “We were too late.”

 

Chyehye snorted. "That much has been obvious since we entered. Everything is already dead." A pause. "Well, dead again."

 

They stood in a row contemplating the altar and the note it held in place of the horn that was supposed to be there.

 

Nyatt shook his head. “How did she get here so fast? Can she fly like a dragon?”

 

Aithne shrugged. “Who can say?” She stepped forward and, after a pause, gingerly picked up the parchment. Two rocks dropped to the floor as she unfolded it, read it, then laughed.

 

Sloan raised an eyebrow. “Well don’t keep us in suspense - what’s it say?”

 

Aithne glanced back at them, still laughing. “It says, ‘Haha I got here first this time.’”

 

“That settles it,” Sloan said amidst the others’ laughter. “Sian was here and she also remembers last time. That is good to know, at least.”

 

“So it would seem,” Aithne agreed. “So what now?”

 

Sloan shrugged. “I don’t think it behooves us to try to guess where she will go next. I don’t want to spend the next six years playing Follow the Dragonborn all over Skyrim. I suggest we go back to Riverwood and see what Delphine has to say.”

 

“Sounds good to me. Anyone object? No? Then gather around.”

 

Aithne held out her hands and her spouses took them. Sloan took Chyehye’s and Merks’, who clutched reluctantly with his other hand to an equally-reluctant-looking Nyatt.

 

Five minutes later, as they walked through the gateway into the town, Sloan cursed at herself because she had forgotten to hide her daggers, which were confiscated with a stern lecture about the frailty of woman and several gropes of the ass. It was a reminder how much she hated this new Skyrim’s towns. Maybe staying at the orc stronghold wasn’t so bad after all.

 

 

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