When All's Done

She was truly beginning to disdain having to lay low, but it really was for the best. Her uncle knew she was coming, but not when, and she had some things to see to in Redshore before making herself known to him. Rumors of a Bretic noblewoman traveling to Wayrest by boat would be a dead giveaway, which was why today she was not a nobelwoman at all, but a humble birdkeeper. The massive eagle owl upon her shoulder bristled as the old sea dog stormed off.

“Oh, don’t be so glum,” Narcisse cooed pleasantly. “You’ve been nothing but good luck to me.” 

Oghma’s new body suited him quite well, she thought. She had similar designs in mind for her other four, once she returned to her laboratory at home. For now, however, his imposing size and rather foreboding appearance was making this difficult. She couldn’t exactly flaunt her status when she was attempting to go in cognito, and using a charm spell was impractical for such a long voyage. She was forced to do this the old fashioned way, and it was not going in her favor. 

She was about to call it a day and return to her old manse for some much needed libations when a voice that seemed to ring like the clattering of coins caught her attention. “Third time you’ve been turned down this afternoon by my count.”

Narcisse’s eyes narrowed with scrutiny, a barely perceptible shift. She’d assumed that someone was watching her, but hadn’t presumed that he would just come out and announce it. That meant he wanted something. Very well. She’d play, for now. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t look so discouraged, gorgeous,” the man smiled as if he expected her to melt for him then and there. She didn’t doubt many young girls did just that. “You’re lookin’ for a ship, I’m lookin’ for an opportunity, and I see one standin’ right here in front of me.”

This was certainly unexpected. Either he was desperate, mad, or trying to lure her into assassination or worse. “And what opportunity do you imagine I might have to offer, might I ask?”

“The only kind of opportunity I’m interested in, gorgeous. The kind that you can take to the bank. Oh, don’t look so confused. You and I both know you’re more than just some crazy bird keeper.” This time when he smiled, the games were gone from his eyes. “What do you say we move this conversation below decks? A lot less prying eyes aboard the Gambit.”

“The Gambit?” she asked as she began to follow. “I’ve never heard of her.”

“I suppose not,” the man replied, sounding a shade disappointed. “The Fool’s Gambit, one of the finest smuggling vessels you’ll find from here to Elsweyr, and exactly what you need if I had to guess. I’m her captain. Rez Trebax.”

She nodded politely as they made their way across the deck. “I’m called Euria.”

“Sure you are,” he grinned back over his shoulder. “Well, Euria, can I offer you a drink?”

“Wine if you have it,” she replied, a bit more authoritative as they found themselves on the other side of the captain’s cabin door. “You could also tell me what it is you’re actually after.”

The captain snorted as he poured her glass, still irritatingly unflappable. “Exactly what I told you, gorgeous. See, I’m a bit of a gambler, and I’ve got a feeling you might be my next big payout.” He slid the glass across the table with a wink. “Call it a hunch.”

Narcisse crossed her legs, picking up the glass with an elegant hand. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been making herself so obvious, but this little man was beginning to annoy her. “As if I would believe something so puerile.”

“Believe what you want,” Rez Trebax replied coolly, moving to pour himself something a bit stronger. “I go with my gut, and my gut says you’ve got plenty of coin.”

Well, if it was out in the open, then. “That depends on how much you want.”

“Two thousand now,” he said immediately, as if he’d over-rehearsed. “And another when we reach Wayrest. That is where you told that old Nord you were going, right?”

He really was a gambler, and this was a textbook bluff. Three thousand from a woman whose true identity he couldn’t even be sure of? No doubt he expected her to whittle that down a bit. Well, maybe it was his lucky day after all.

“You said you were a smuggler?” Her jade eyes met with the challenge in his gaze. “I can give you four thousand now, and upon reaching Wayrest you will turn back and move all of my more... sensitive belongings from my manse in this city to your ship. You will return to Wayrest, where I will be waiting with an additional eleven-thousand septims.”

Now it was his turn to look at her as if she’d gone mad. “So I guessed right, then? Merchant queen in disguise? What’s the cargo? Jewels? Spices?”

“Hardly anything so interesting,” she assured him, finger idly tracing the rim of her glass. “Dusty old books, mostly. And birds. They’ll be hungry. I’ll make sure you have instructions and supplies to keep them fed.”

He folded his hands. “Alright,” he replied after a beat. “My first mate hates birds, but alright. What else?”

“You’ll need to be sure you don’t take any new crew members aboard until this task is completed. I have some enemies who could pose a threat to my person as well as yours.”

She had to admit, his ability to keep his composure was rather commendable. “Assassins, then. Fair enough. What are we dealing with, here? Brotherhood? Morag Tong?”

“Daedric cultists. Close enough. There’s also the possibility the Dominion might be after me. Or vampires. Oh, and I couldn’t forget my dear family.”

And there, his unshakable demeanor slipped. “Who in Oblivion are you?”

This time, she was the one to wink. “Just a girl who’s never been particularly good at making friends. Oh, that reminds me, call me ‘gorgeous’ again and I’ll put a quarrel through your windpipe, dearest. The flattery is nice, but I could do without the excessive salivation.”

He chuckled. “Feisty, huh? I like that.”

“My partner wouldn’t,” she responded evenly. “Oh, yes, she’ll be joining us as well. The Dominion’s actually after her, not me, but you know how it is. Play your cards right, gambler, and she might have some lucrative work for you as well. We can always sort that out later, of course.”

In five minutes, Rez Trebax had gone from looking like an arrogant prick to looking like a prick who’d just been hit by a tornado. She rather approved of the change.

Narcisse Bossuet smiled, and extended a hand with all the poise of a proper Lord of Wayrest. “I don’t suppose we have a deal, then?”

She saw him hesitate for the first time, but he took her hand. “Yeah. We got a deal. I’ll have my first mate help you with your cargo. I reckon you two will get along just fine; he’s always talkin’ about shooting me in the neck, too.”

“Oh, delightful,” Narcisse beamed. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty to talk about, then.”

Adelein’s tower lacked for little by way of accommodations to her usual habits. She had all the resources one could want for by way of spellcraft, cadavers, and tea, naturally. And yet, they were not hers. They had been procured through the conjurer’s connections, not her own. It wasn’t as if she could write one of her contacts and ask for a few vials of this, some reading material on that-- and yes, by the way, she’d not been killed yet after all! Narcisse Bossuet had fallen off the map. Again.

Her grip on the quill in her hand tensed. An otherwise perfect letter “Y” suddenly had a very pronounced digression at its tail end. She corrected herself, kept writing. It would have been a bold lie indeed if she were to say she had not enjoyed her stay within the confines of this remote tower. The first few weeks of convalescence had done her good, she could not deny, and Adelein was…

Well, that was what complicated matters, wasn’t it?

It all seemed so far away now, her night with the assassin, the cold daggers of realization that had come the next morning, waiting, wanting, and of course, the skirmish with the mysterious cultist that had left her standing on her last leg. The memories still stung, but it was a distant pain now, more a sympathy for her selves past than an immediate and personal anguish. She had made things right, the way they were supposed to be. Adelein was an intellectual equal, a confidant, a dream come true thus far.

She sighed to herself, setting down her pen after one final flourish across the “t” of her illustrious family name. Jade eyes scanned the parchment one final time before her hand tightened, as if to crush the letter up. That would be the third one today. Decisively, she set the document back down, undamaged, and brought a hand to her temples.

She was restless.

How desperately she wished she could be more like her partner, content to pass the days away absorbed in research and contemplation. But she was a Bossuet, through a through, an opportunist and a murderess with an insatiable lust for power, and damned if she wasn’t feeling the itch. Two years, two bloody years she’d whittled away time in this frigid province, looking for gold amidst the gravel, preening on about her grand plans when in reality she’d been here in exile.

But she had found something of value: knowledge that surpassed any ragtag army of supporters she might have once dreamt of towing back to Wayrest with her. A snow-white raptor made his way across her desk, inspecting the tools of her diplomatic trade. Very soon, Oghma dearest, I’ll have your new home ready for you. Meanwhile, her own home lay across vast mountains or vaster seas, depending on your travel preference. Wings, she could not help thinking, would be rather useful things.

Ah, but she was getting ahead of herself again. She couldn’t abandon things here, not after she’d worked so hard for them. But it wasn’t just her own desires she was contending with. There was still a web being spun in the recesses of her mind, a toxin that seemed to urge her further towards her own natural impulses of treachery and conquest. Adelein of all people had to understand that, surely?

Was she thinking selfishly again? The last thing she wanted was to wound the conjurer’s trust. Again. She could tell, still, that there were a few remaining secrets between them. That was natural, of course, everyone was entitled to their secrets. But could she risk asking this, now, when things were only just beginning to settle? She could feel prickles gnawing at the back of her neck.

She was going to send this letter. They would talk about it, and she would send it. It was all going to work out. Dammit, she’d make sure of it. The faintest smile cross her lips as she glanced over the closing remarks she had left there in ink:

I do so look forward to seeing you again, Dear Uncle, and I can scarcely wait to see what sort of welcome awaits me at our blood’s home.

Yours always,

Narcisse Bossuet

Oh, there would be a welcoming party, indeed. She could only hope that Matthias would have time to prepare his best tricks. The Gods only knew she’d had ample time to prepare hers, and there’d really be no fun in it if only one of them were at their best.