The road from the old Pale Pass Inn to Bravil was uneventful. In the mountains Lena had to keep to the road, but in the Nibenay Valley she took a shortcut along the Niben. After all, this was the area where she grew up, and although not many of the hamlets and fishing huts survived the Oblivion Crisis, she didn’t need them as landmarks to guide her. The nature reclaimed most of the land, and there was now a bluebell meadow where her grandmother’s cabin had stood just behind the Inn of Ill Omen. The events of the last few days brought back a lot of memories, and now she took a detour and stood surrounded by the wild flowers, seeing the cabin and her grandmother with her mind’s eye.

“When the time is right, go to Skyrim to find your father” – she suddenly remembered her grandmother’s words. Wait, did she say “find”? Lena always thought she meant “find out about your father”, but what if she had actually meant it literally?

That thought had a lot of implications that Lena wasn’t ready to contemplate, so she brushed it aside. She had enough to digest as it was. She mounted Roach and continued on to Bravil.

She arrived in early evening, and as usual it was raining. Lena welcomed the rain, she sat on the deck in front of her house and let the drops wash away her worries. Many people sat out on their decks too, it was a warm and quiet night. People of Bravil were used to the rain.

“Tomorrow I’ll get back to work” – Lena thought, sipping the wine. “The Umbranox contract is due. I wonder who is the Grey Fox now?” She mused, wondering how hard it would be to find Nocturnal’s Cowl. At any event, Anvil was her destination, and she would set off in the morning.

26 Sun’s Height

Lena arrived in Skingrad late in the afternoon. She’d been riding all day and Roach was now tired and required rest before continuing on to Anvil. On a whim, Lena decided to check in at the Summermist Manor – a place to stay for travelling members of the Black Hand. She unlocked the door with her key and entered. Fafnir greeted her.

“Good to see you!” – he said, smiling. “It’s been a while. I’ll be serving dinner shortly, if you want to join us. He’s upstairs, by the way.”

“He?” – Lena raised an eyebrow.

“Lucien, of course” – Fafnir smirked. “Rayenna’s antics are the talk of the Brotherhood. It’s been a while since we had something quite so juicy to discuss – a Speaker and his Silencer being an item, and another Silencer getting all jealous… That’s a classic!” He laughed whole-heartedly. “So everyone knows about Lachance and his Wolf now.”

“Umm…” – Lena hadn’t thought about that side of things, although she should have expected gossip. “It shouldn’t be much of a surprise though, at least not for those who’ve known us for a while already.”

“Indeed” – Fafnir nodded. “But not everyone knows your history. Rayenna didn’t, for one. So for those who don’t know it, it all comes completely out of the blue. Do not worry however – I keep history in the past.”

Fafnir was the Keeper of Secrets. He lived in the Summitmist Manor and appeared to be a mere majordomo serving travelling Brothers and Sisters. In truth however he was controlling rumours within the Brotherhood. It was all well and good to gossip about someone’s love affairs, as long as it didn’t involve classified information such as the circumstances of a treason two hundred years ago. People knew that something had happened, but unless they witnessed it at the time, they were not entitled to any details. Besides internal rumours, Fafnir also controlled communications to the wider world, such as the famous story about the Purification of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary and subsequent collapse of the Dark Brotherhood, all of which became common knowledge, yet none of which was true. It was also Fafnir who supplied Lucien with the documents to serve as bait for Rayenna. The archives were situated in a sealed cavern system below Skingrad, accessible only from the basement of the Summitmist Manor through a hidden teleport. Not many people knew it existed, and no one besides the Keeper of Secrets was able to use it.

Fafnir appeared to be a Nord. Yet he had been with the Dark Brotherhood longer than any other living member, vampires included, and some believed that he had been with Morag Tong even before that. Who was to say?

Fafnir was looking at Lena and smiling. “Go on, dinner won’t be ready for another hour.”

Lena ran upstairs. Lucien was sitting in an armchair reading, he looked tired. Yet he leapt to his feet hearing Lena come up the stairs.

“How did you know I’d be here?” – he breathed into her ear, holding her close.

“I didn’t” – she whispered back. “I was passing Skingrad on my way to Anvil and decided to stay the night. And came here to check for no reason.”

“No reason?” – he smiled, releasing his embrace and looking into her eyes.

“Other than wanting to see you.” She looked him over. “You are hurt.”

“Bloody vampires” – he grimaced. “Yes.”

“Mandrake root?”

“Already taken.”

“Well then, after dinner we go back to my place and indulge in the Wolf Spa.”

“You are full of surprises” – he laughed. “I’d be a fool to argue.”

The library was cosy, and Lena browsed through the books and newspapers picking up something to read. Fafnir started dressing the table on the other end of the room.