The wind across the tundra was chill, but the campfire danced cheerfully in the rock fall, as I returned from gathering the dried mammoth patties that would keep it burning through the night. The smell of roasting venison was just beginning to change to burning meat as I reached the fire.
“Ghorbash!” I yelled, with an ironic half-smile, because I was never going to get used to calling him that, “You burned the venison again!”
“Did not!” he replied, appearing from behind a bush and buckling his belt. “It’s perfectly charred just now.”
“If it is,” I began pulling the venison out of the fire, and onto a wooden plate. “Then it’s no thanks to you.”
He chuckled as he settled down on the log he’d chosen for a seat. “I was just coming back. It was all part of my plan,” he assured me. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it’s to always have a plan.”
That made it my turn to laugh. “I learned that from you.”
“And that’s what makes us perfect together,” he concluded, kissing me fondly on the forehead.
I had gathered mushrooms and greens, and together with the slightly charred venison, it made for a wonderful little meal. I never really noticed the food I put in my mouth before I got married, but since Durz… uh Ghorbash… became my other half, mealtimes have been special, a time to relax and celebrate the day.
“The venison is perfect,” I told him. “I love it when you cook.”
“A warrior marches on his stomach,” he said. He didn’t elaborate, because he said it every evening at suppertime. It was almost like a prayer.
“Malacath witness our deeds,” I replied, musingly.
His brow creased as he tried to follow my train of thought. “Praying to Malacath? I thought Nocturnal was your deity now.”
“Always has been one of them,” I replied. “Can’t an orc thief have two favorite deities?”
“Of course, of course…” he mumbled.
“Good, because there are at least nine others whose temples I’ve been known to visit from time to time,” I told him.
“I wonder how that’ll go over when you walk into a temple wearing that Nightingale outfit.”
“Mara didn’t seem to mind,” I observed.
“Which brings up a question I’ve had. Lucy, why are we doing these little jobs for Mara?”
“I like working for Mara. It makes me feel good about myself and about Life,” I explained. “I bring lovers together so they can have what you and I have. It’s a nice break from all the blood and cursing that seems to be the result of every other path I try to follow.”
He chewed on that answer for awhile, along with a mouthful of venison. “You may be the only orc I know who has an aversion to bloodshed,” he teased.
“If I do, then you couldn’t tell from my recent history,” I replied. “Do you have an aversion to Love?”
“Not since I met you,” he said.
“Good answer,” I told him. “Now, change of subject: I want to switch boots with you.”
“What? Why? How? I won’t fit in your boots!” he objected.
“These you will. They’re enchanted. They’ll stretch to fit your foot.”
“But those boots were given to you by Nocturnal. Isn’t it some kind of sacrilege to give them to me?”
“These boots were given to me to help me move silently through the shadows, and with you tailing me everywhere I go, they need to be on your feet to do that. Sorry, my husband, but you are the weak link.”
“Damn all this sneaking around! I’m too old to learn new tricks.”
“Maybe you are and maybe you aren’t, but you agreed to follow my path for awhile; if you’re rethinking that choice...”
“No, damn it! I’m not rethinking.” His look of distaste was pitiful as he slipped on the soft leather boots. “I feel like an Imperial concubine.”
“Believe me, if you ever see a concubine wearing something like those, she’s the most dangerous person in the room,” I told him. “You’ll get used to them. And if you want, you can take them off when we visit the Stronghold and put on something with steel toes.”
“There’s other orcs in Skyrim besides my family,” he observed.
“Yeah, but they’ll never know you were there,” I replied. “I’ve got a ring for you as well.”
“A wedding band wasn’t enough?”
“Honestly, if you could only wear one ring, I’d rather you wore this,” I told him. “It’ll keep us both alive.”
“Another sneaky spell?” he asked.
“Yup.”
“Fine.” He leaned forward to accept the ring, and an arrow hissed past him where his shoulder had been a moment before, clattering against the rocks behind him.
Both of us jumped to our feet, weapons springing to hand. A black-clad khajit sprang into the firelight, a sword in one hand, dagger in the other, swinging for my head. I parried just in time and leapt backward over the fire. The khajit pressed the attack, but opened himself up to an overhead swing of Durz’ sword—another gift from me. While the khajit dodged away from Durz, I stabbed with the enchanted sword in my left hand. I nicked him, and for just a second, he froze like a statue, and began to topple. Before he could recover, we made a bloody mess of him.
I searched him as soon as we were sure he was dead. I found what I expected to find—a contract from the Dark Brotherhood. I showed it to Durz.
“These guys still after you?” he growled.
“That’s the third one to come after me since I escaped my execution,” I told him. “It wasn’t enough that they tore my life apart in the first place. They won’t leave me in peace to rebuild it!”
Durz growled. “If I knew where to look, I would crush that entire organization out of existence.”
I met his icy glare with one of my own. “I heard rumors when I was in Windhelm,” I told him. “That’s where we’ll start.”
A grim, satisfied smile stretched across his face. “Malacath witness our deeds.”
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