The human is coming down the stairs. You stop to watch him. You have the time, and you most certainly have the desire. You don’t think about his death. If the stories are true, he is incapable of it. It eludes him, though at times he has sought it. You’ve read a number of books on the subject while doing your studies. You found the stories fascinating, but clearly exaggerated. Or so you thought. Having met him, you’re not so sure anymore. He’s a good fighter. You watched him fight the possessed corpses in the Quarry. He is strong, fast. He has an air of mystery about him as well. Intoxicating. It clouds your thoughts until he becomes all you can think about. Like you’re thinking about him now. Thinking about the long lines of his legs; the swell of their muscle beneath his trousers. His waist, stomach, chest, and shoulders. All hard, toned; fair skin over sinew. His arms, his hands. His gray-blue eyes and his long, black hair. He’s near the bottom of the stairs now. Your heart is pounding. He steps through you; you rise on your toes, imagine his lips meeting yours.
He passes, you sigh. You close your eyes for a moment. When you open them, you are focused. This is part of your approach now. A subtle, shifting step. When repressed, your feelings for the human become a distraction. By allowing yourself to acknowledge and indulge, you regain control of your thoughts. You can focus on your mastery. Today that means you can focus on Nisha Davrosh.
She sits with the half-born. Her half-sister. They talk and laugh. Nisha smiles, the half-born scowls, chides. But it is half-hearted. You smile, watch the two interact. Nisha purses her lips, tenses. The half-born says something and Nisha laughs out loud. You can’t hear it, but you see it unfold in slow, patient detail. The lifting eyebrows, the eyes that widen for a fraction of a second before a smile forces cheeks upward and causes the wide eyes to close, squint with amusement. You sigh, relax. This is good. Much better than Zvilna Gorsham.
The meek Zvilna. So timid and afraid. Eyes wet with tears. She was a necessary step, but one that benefitted the shadow more than you. She did little to further your case to the gods. But Nisha is clearly different. She is strong, full of life. Her family cherishes her, protects her. The human will stand guard. You have many obstacles in your path, and this pleases you. It is an appropriate end to your time in Hammerfell. The perfect precursor to your time in Godscry.
But that is all yet to come. In the meantime, you must plan. You turn away from Nisha and study the room. It is large and open. Two doors on opposite walls. A sturdy bed with an open frame beneath. No canopy, no curtains to draw aside. You set the wire and arrow under the bed. It’s safer than carrying them with you when you return in the evening. You nod to yourself.
This will do nicely.
✽✽✽
DAVROSH TURNED FOR the third time, and Sorrows cleared his throat.
“If you want to stay, then stay,” he said. “No one’s forcing you to come along. But you’ll have to walk back. I don’t have time to turn around.”
The dogs mushed, the sled slid. Davrosh stared as her family’s estate fell farther away. The Stone Mother’s Mask had taken near two hours of their time. The sun was high above the horizon, yellow and bright in a blue sky. But the air was cold and smelled of pine. The wind hissed and howled and swept away the wood smoke or any other suggestion of warmth. Sorrows flexed his hands, winced at the memory of his missing finger.
“Just go,” Davrosh said. “Sooner we get this done, sooner we get back.”
“To be clear, there’s no we in what I need to do,” Sorrows said. “I just need you to watch the dogs.”
“You think I’m going to leave my sister, go to the Quarry and sit outside in the sled the entire time? Piss off.”
“Who said we’re going to the Quarry?”
Davrosh snorted. “It’s always the Quarry with you. All of Hammerfell to choose from, and you keep finding ways to get back to the dregs.”
“That so?”
“It is. I think you like the lawlessness of it.”
“The lawlessness? The Quarry isn’t without law. The rules simply change once you step onto gravel. I like the Quarry’s rules better. They’re honest. No one sneaking into bedrooms to kill daughters while they sleep.”
“You prefer they kill you when you’re awake.”
“I prefer they try when I’m awake, yes.”
Davrosh shook her head. “It’s all so desperate. Everyone seems so broken in the Quarry.”
“Wasn’t always desperate,” Sorrows said. “I remember when the homes were new, and Beggar’s Hollow was just the slope above Geldwater Gorge.”
“Geldwater? Gods, I’ve never heard that name before. Bit misleading unless you’re talking about the piss.”
“That’s only come in the past two centuries. Wasn’t until the city had spread from the tower to the Quarry that they needed to channel their piss onto the plains.”
Davrosh said nothing for a spell. She studied the streets, the stone-faced shops, the dwarves and goblins crowded together.
“What of the half-born back then? Were we still looked down upon?”
Her voice was strained. Not tight, but guarded. She sat still and looked forward, waiting. Sorrows thought of Nisha and what would happen to Davrosh if her family line ended today. Tomorrow she would have no home. Though from what he had seen, she could have her pick of any number of dwarf sons. From what he had seen, that was not what she wanted.
He answered carefully. “With the gods-born, yes. The half-born were always viewed as inevitable, but unfortunate. Never made sense to me. The attitudes have changed somewhat, though biases still linger. Two centuries ago, you’d
