Dragon of the East - Arc 2, Chapter 24

• Posted by Okan-Zeeus September 15, 2015 - 1,294 views

  Dar-Meena

  ~ ~ ~

  “Can anyone see him? Is he dead?”

  Falura strained to look up the hill.

  “He’d better not be,” I growled. “I’ll kick his ass.”

  It was a steep climb up the mountain slope. We saw the dragon laying in a heap and the trail of destruction behind it. Talk about a landing! It’d sent so much snow flying through the air it reached us down in Kynesgrove. The others were eager to see the dead dragon up close. I just wanted to find Chase in one piece…

  “Wait! Something’s happening!” Delphine exclaimed.

  The dragon’s body caught on fire. Bands of light and color raced across the air, just like the last time Chase killed a dragon. Everyone gawked at the show like cats on Skooma. Me? Feh… you see a dragon lose its soul once, you’ve seen it every time. But it did mean Chase was alive. I rushed up the hill to be the first to reach him.

  That idiot Dragonborn was lying on his back in the snow, horns sunk partly into the ground, with the look of a guy trying to sleep off a hangover. What did it feel like to absorb a soul? I drew close and knelt down beside him. His dark expression went away as soon as he saw me, smiling up with that dumb smile of his. He was happy to see me. I let him know I was happy to see him too.

  With an ill-tempered scowl.

  “You really are trying to kill yourself,” I muttered.

  “Not so much kill as get killed,” he replied.

  I gave him my shoulder and helped him stand up. He took it nice and slow. “Careful… This one is in bad–!” He grunted with a twinge of pain. “…bad condition...” Chase was having trouble keeping himself balanced. I let him lean on me.

  “No shit!” I hissed. “What were you thinking!?”

  “Many things,” he said dryly.

  “Care to name one!?”

  Chase paused to cast a quick healing spell on his collar.

  “Will that make you less angry with me?”

  “No. No it won’t.”       

  “Then I see little point…”

  Delphine trekked up to us, with the others close behind her. I heard one of the Stormcloaks mutter something under his breath.

  “I’ll be a troll’s uncle… Saved by elves and lizards…”       

  Reinhardt rammed his elbow in the man’s arm as he marched past him. “Hey. You callin’ me an elf?” He glanced back at Falura. “No offense.”

  “I’ll withhold comment,” she said.

  Everybody gathered round, giving me and Chase plenty of room. They were staring at us like a pair of freaks, waiting for the show’s next act to start. What happens now? I thought with a hiss. Delphine stepped in front, staring speechless at Chase.

  “So you really are... I… It's true, isn't it? You’re the Dragonborn…”

  Chase stared back at her, tail swaying.

  “I am,” he said coldly.

  The group stirred.

  “I’ll be damned,” one of the Stormcloaks whispered. He had a full black beard and rough skin, with a deep scratchy voice. The other wore a hurt look on his face, nicked and damp with sweat. I think I noticed for the first time how young he was.

  “Just like the legends, huh?” He sounded resentful. “Couldn’t have gotten here any sooner, Dragonborn…?”

  Bastard. He didn’t even care that Chase had saved his life. I saw Chase’s reaction, the pain in his eyes. He didn’t even try to dodge that kid’s stab of guilt.

  “I’m sorry… I came as fast as I could…”

  That Stormcloak was venting, taking a cheap shot that anyone else would’ve brushed aside. Chase just took it. He let himself feel shame. It was infuriating to watch. That man could be so cold and callous with a sword, but if you talked to him he’d bear his beating heart. He didn’t deserve this. He needed someone to stand up for him.

  “You don’t have to take this, Chase,” I growled, shooting daggers at the Stormcloak. “Show some gratitude, asshole! You’d be dead right now if he hadn’t come to save you!”

  “Maybe I’d rather be dead, damned scaleback!”      

  “Oh really!? Easy to say while you’re still alive!”

  Chase reached over and rested a hand on my chest.

  “Dar-Meena, stop this. This young man has every right to be angry,” he said. It took me off guard. He looked at the Stormcloak, searching him. “You have suffered loss. I see it in you…”

  The kid paused, then slowly nodded. Chase hung his head.

  “Please… speak their names, so I might hear them.”

  There was stunned silence. The kid couldn’t find his tongue. Falura kept her eyes on him, while Reinhardt watched Chase with rapt attention.

  The Stormcloak spoke four names.

  “Runthor… Tolek. Vernir. Istlod.”

  His grief was plain as day. I couldn’t stay mad at the kid anymore, not after that. I had too much sympathy. I was probably a little older than him when my friends were killed back in Cyrodiil. He was lucky. At least he got to play his part repaying the favor to that dragon. I still had to stew with the thought that Barnaxi was living it up somewhere out in the bigger world. But that’s just how it goes. Sometimes the monsters get away.

  “May their souls find peace,” Chase said. He confronted the Stormcloak with a heavy gaze. “I promise you, I won’t forget my shortcomings here. Should the time arise when I am needed to protect more people, I will be faster.”

  I cast Chase a sidelong glance. Is that really a promise you can keep? To be honest, I don’t think that was the point of it. He was putting the kid’s mind at ease, turning his anger into mourning. It was a move that seemed to satisfy everyone. I had a lot of respect for Chase after that, maybe even a little envy. I couldn’t speak to people’s hearts the way he could.

  Reinhardt folded his arms. He was a very tall man, towering above the rest of the lineup. The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he drew a big grin.

  “Heh… I’ve seen all I need to see,” he said, eyeing his mage friend beside him. Falura held her staff close, staring dourly at Chase. I didn’t like the air I was getting from her.

  Delphine turned to the Stormcloaks. “Which one of you is in command?” she asked.

  The older of the two came forward. “That’d be me.”

  “You should send someone for the villagers. They need to get back here right away. Bandits won’t turn a blind eye to an empty town full of food and valuables.”

  The kid volunteered. The older Stormcloak let him loose. He spat on the ground and wiped his mouth, assessing the red-scaled man leaning against me.

  “Dragonborn, eh?” He said. “You’re a sorry sight. That dragon did you in.”

  Chase stole a peek at the dragon’s skeleton. I grinned. “You should see the other guy.” Oh, I wished he would’ve said that.

  “Mind if we borrow the inn?” Delphine asked. “We could use a place to rest.”

  “Long as you leave what you find,” the Stormcloak grumbled. He thought about it longer, though, and gave a listless toss of his hand. “Ah, by the Nine… Forget I said that. I’m in charge now. You can all eat and drink whatever you find. I’ll take the guff for it. Just don’t make a mess.”

  “We’ll keep it tidy. Don’t stress your head,” Reinhardt said.

  The newly appointed captain of Kynesgrove’s guard let out a grunt.

  “Off with you, then. I’ve got burying to do…”        

  He headed for the road, back to the dragon burial mound. I don’t think he really cared much about the village. That man just wanted to simmer alone. Delphine walked up to us, pulling a strange black object from a pouch at her side.

  “I think I have something for you.” She held up the object in her hand. “Looking for the horn of Jurgen Windcaller?”

  Chase and I stared blankly at it.

  “This is a joke,” I muttered. “Right? This has to be a joke.”

  “It’s the real thing,” Reinhardt spoke up. “We were at Ustengrav. I’ll vouch for it.”

  Chase hissed at the woman. “Do you mean to present this as a gesture of goodwill? I am not so easily swooned with gifts.”

  She didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  “You want the horn or not?”

  “Tell me who you are first.” He glanced at Reinhardt and Falura. “All of you.”

  “Let’s take it to the inn,” Delphine said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  Chase took a deep breath in through his nose.

  “A lot indeed…”

                                                             ~ooooo~

  The smell of burning logs clogged the air. We stoked a fire in a big stone pit and sat around it on wooden chairs. The Braidwood Inn, they called the place. It was ugly. The criminal responsible for those puke colored carpets deserved a noose. That and the common room could’ve used some better lighting. Too many dark corners and taxidermy fish.

  “Ah-ha! Get a load of these pheasants!” Reinhardt beamed, walking back to the fire with a quad of dead birds. “You all sit tight, now. We’re gonna eat like kings when I’m done with these beauties.”

  Nobody cared. The room lapsed into a gloomy hush. That Nord reminded me so much of Tsariba, only he was somehow worse. He had the cat’s tireless enthusiasm with none of her feline charm. Reinhardt didn’t seem to notice how squirmingly awkward his optimism came across. I wanted to beat him with a stick every time he opened his mouth. But of course I didn’t. I just huffed and leaned on an armrest, wishing I had a stick.

  “I noticed a similarity between the dragon’s resurrection and it losing its soul,” Falura said to Delphine sitting next to her, resuming where she’d left off. “The creature came from embers and was reduced to embers. Seems to suggest a common, underlying magic between the two phenomenon.”

  And then there was the elf. She struck me as a combination of Mindil and Livia, minus some of their better qualities. Falura had the Altmer’s genius mixed with Livia’s matriarchal ego. The result was a middle-aged woman who sounded overconfident about everything. She loved magic too, if you couldn’t tell by the end of her droning lectures.

  Earlier, Falura explained what happened at the burial mound before me and Chase showed up. The black dragon came, caused a storm, Shouted at the dirt and made a dragon pop out. Chase didn’t speak a word. All he did was heal himself, listen, nod and frown.

  In other words, his head was on right. I would have checked him for a fever if he cracked a smile.

  Could these people even tell if Chase were smiling? I wondered. I could tell, but that’s because I’ve looked in a mirror. I know on good authority what Argonian smiles look like, as opposed to almost every elf or human I’ve ever met. Chase and I were going to have to mind ourselves. Wouldn’t want to send the wrong signals…

  Reinhardt prepped the pheasants and set some water out to boil. I sniffed an earthy scent of potatoes. Delphine looked at Chase from the other side of the fire.

  “You’ve been quiet so far,” she said.                                                             

  “This one wished to listen, not speak,” he replied, leaning forward in his chair. He left his tail draped behind him, poking through the space beneath the seat and backrest. I kept mine in my lap. “You mentioned a map of dragon burial sites…”

  “I did.”

  “Where, by chance, did you acquire this map?”

  “You should know. You found it.”

  Chase unbent himself, eyes opening up.

  “The Dragonstone... You are Farengar’s associate.”

  “And you’re the one he sent into Bleak Falls Barrow. Nice work, by the way.”                  

  Chase’s tail swept the floor. “Think little of it. I am glad to hear my efforts bore fruit.”

  What in Oblivion are these two talking about? I got left behind somewhere in the middle of that conversation. Seemed pretty need to know, though, so I didn’t ask any questions. Falura was just as confused as me.

  “You know Farengar?” she asked Chase.

  “Without the Dragonborn’s help, none of us would be here,” Delphine said to Falura. “Farengar sent him on an important errand, though nobody knew then he was the Dragonborn.”

  “It was the Jarl of Whiterun who requested my help,” Chase corrected.

  “Why you?” I asked.

  “I happened to be available,” he sighed.

  More silence. Falura sat stiffly. I think Chase and Delphine were playing mind games with each other, the way their eyes would pierce across the fire pit. Reinhardt burnt his finger on a kettle, proceeding to suck on it.

  You know what would’ve been nice? Some music. An inn without a bard should be a capital offense. I’m pretty sure I saw a lute somewhere, though I wasn’t about to pick up and play it. I didn’t feel like finding out how out of practice I was. Not in front of an audience.

  “Alright. Who are you?” Chase finally asked. “Why have you come here?”

  Delphine turned her head. “I’ll let these two answer that first.”

  Chase met the wary eyes of the Dark Elf.

  “Falura, yes?”

  “Falura Telvanni Andrilo,” she said in her stately voice. “I am here in Skyrim to study the dragons and their recent return.”

  “Study. Dragons,” I muttered. “Right…”

  Chase showed a flicker of discomfort when he heard Falura’s full name. He shifted in his seat to try and mask it. I might’ve been the only one who noticed.

  “Your studies have brought you here, then?” He shot a glance at the Nord cooking our meal. “And what of you? What part do you play in this?”

  “Ah, don’t mind me. Just a bodyguard along for the trip,” he said with a grin. “Honored to finally meet you, by the way, uh… um… damn, what was that long name of yours?”

  “Chases-The-Wind.”                                                                                            

  “Right, right. You go by anything else?”

  “Nothing in particular.”

  “Mind if I call you Chases?”

  “If that is what you wish. It makes no difference to this one.”

  “How about something else, like, uh… Wind?”

  “That is… tolerable.”

  “Windy?”

  Long pause.

  “…Chases is fine. Please.”

  I took in the tall, burly Nord. Just a bodyguard, huh? That sounded suspect to me. He and the elf were too friendly with each other. They obviously had some sort of history.

  “We came here with this woman, Delphine,” Falura said. “She predicted the dragon’s resurrection.”

  Chase bent forward in his seat again, casting a healing spell on himself.

  “Xhu. This was mentioned…”

  “We know as much about her as you do, friend,” Reinhardt added. “She’s been nice and secretive ever since we met. Touchy, too.”

  “Then I will direct my questions to you,” Chase said, eyeing the woman. “If you are willing to answer them…”

  Delphine’s demeanor softened. She was balancing her sword on the floor, tip down, palm atop the hilt. Its black sheath had a dull shine.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “Whatever you want to know. Nothing held back.”

  Chase pulled no punches. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

  “I'm part of a group that's been looking for you... someone like you, for a very long time. I am one of the last members of the Blades.”

  “The who?” I asked.

  Delphine glared at me. Well, not at me I guess. She looked and happened to be glaring.

  “Exactly. Nobody even remembers our name these days,” she said. “We used to be known across Tamriel as the protectors of the Septim Emperors. Those days are long gone, though.”

  That garnered looks of surprise. Chase narrowed his eyes.

  “The Septims were Dragonborn,” he said. “Are you confusing this one, then, with a lineage of dead emperors?”

  “A very long time ago the Blades were dragon slayers,” Delphine said, “and we served the Dragonborn – the greatest dragon slayer. We've been searching for the next Dragonborn to guide and guard, as we are sworn to do. Hundreds of years passed. But we never found one. Until now.”

  Chase shifted uncomfortably.

  “You… are sworn to serve me?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “And there are others with you?”

  She glanced at the fire.

  “No.”

  “No?” I scoffed. “You just said you were part of The Blades. As in plural. With an s.”

  “If there are any more Blades alive in hiding, I don’t know where they are, and I can’t contact them. I’m assuming I’m on my own.”

  Daedra and Divines, she went for some unsettling undertones with that bit of subtlety.

  “You are being hunted,” Chase said softly. “By who?”

  “The same bastards I suspect might be bringing the dragons back. The Thalmor.”

  The others startled all at once.

  “The Thalmor?” Chase exclaimed.

  “That can’t be!” Falura weaved her fingers together. “What makes you think the Aldmeri Dominion are involved?”

  “Nothing solid. Yet,” Delphine said. “But my gut tells me it can’t be anybody else. Have you all heard what happened at Helgen?” Most of us nodded or said yes. Chase sat very still. “The Imperials had captured Ulfric Stormcloak. They were going to execute him there. The war was basically over. Then a dragon attacks, Ulfric escapes, and the war is back on.”

  “Ulfric… escaped?” Chase whispered.                                                                                 

  Delphine nodded. “Rumor has it he’s back on his throne in Windhelm. And now the dragons are attacking everywhere, indiscriminately. Skyrim is weakened, the Empire is weakened. Who else gains from that but the Thalmor?”

  Her conspiracy theory had no resonance with me. “Could somebody please explain who the Thalmor are?” I grumbled.

  Chase turned his head. “You do not know?”

  “I’ve heard of them, okay? I just need more background.”

  Delphine was more than happy to share her knowledge. And her hatred.

  “They're the rulers of the Aldmeri Dominion,” she said. “The Thalmor take the arrogance of High Elves to the extreme. They believe they are the rightful rulers of all of Tamriel. For a century or more, the Thalmor had been picking away at the Empire. Valenwood was the first, then the province of Elsweyr.”

  “Then those damn elves went and started the Great War,” Reinhardt growled.

  “I know that part,” I said. The Great War was only thirty years ago, though it feels like ancient history. I’ve seen ruins and heard stories, but I was born post-war.

  Reinhardt knit his brow. “Yeah? My father died fighting in that war. Left me and my ma to fend for ourselves.” He looked at Delphine, rotating our pheasants over the fire. “You sure the elves are behind all this?”

  “You still have not told us why the Thalmor are hunting you,” Chase said.

  “Why?” Delphine replied. “Partly a payment for peace. Emperor Titus Mede saved his Empire at a very high price. A price that included the Blades. Our deaths were written on the White-Gold Concordat. Just another part of the Thalmor’s demands, along with trampling the sacred name of Talos.”

  “Aye! The bastards,” Reinhardt jeered. Delphine gave him a fleeting look before resuming.

  “But the Blades’ history with the Thalmor stretches back farther than that. When I was young, our leaders became obsessed with the Thalmor. My Grandmaster saw them as the greatest threat to both the Empire and Tamriel. We fought them in the shadows long before the Great War started. We thought we were more than a match for them. We were wrong.”

  Delphine rested her sword against her chair.

  “They smashed us with ease. I’m one of the few who escaped.”

  Chase leaned back, arms folded and eyes shut.        

  “Hmm… It is clear you have a deep hatred for these Thalmor. You think they are responsible for this dragon calamity. I cannot help but wonder, though, if you are grasping at the wrong conclusion.” His eyes opened again, set on Delphine. “Your bias against the Thalmor may be clouding your judgment.”

  The woman didn’t sound like she agreed.

  “If they aren’t involved, they’ll know who is,” she said. “The Thalmor are still our best lead.”

  Chase stared at the floor. “Perhaps…”

  The inn went quiet again. Suddenly my nose caught a whiff of what that Nord was cooking. I turned sharply to the plates of food being prepped by the fire.

  “Gods damn, what are you making?” I said. “It smells amazing!”  

  “Roasted pheasant,” Reinhardt proudly declared, “flavored with oil, red onions, a clove of garlic, and juniper berries crushed with black peppercorns. Served with a side of charlotte potatoes and Alto Wine.”

  Falura smiled in delight. “Reinhardt! You never told me you could cook like this.”

  The Nord laughed. “What, you didn’t know? That’s the first thing you’re supposed to ask about when you hire muscle!”

  “Reinhardt, you volunteered.”

  “And you still didn’t ask! Shame, Falura!”

  He brought her the first helping. The Dark Elf graciously accepted it. Delphine took hers more quietly. Chase consented to the meal, but declined the goblet of wine. “No thank you. I do not drink,” he said. Reinhardt gave him a funny look, but passed on by and served me. I was damn hungry, and that food was damn good! The pheasant meat was tender and juicy and slipped right off the bone. The others were just as satisfied.

  I guess a gruff looking Nord wearing steel plated armor is what passes for a chef in Skyrim.

  “Hm…! This is good,” Chase remarked. “Your culinary skill is impressive.”

  “I’ll say! Who taught you?” I asked.

  “Ah, that’d be my uncle Keld,” the Nord said, making big gestures. “He wasn’t a cook by trade, but all the folks in Helgen knew his skill. Vilod would invite him every few weeks to serve these huge meals at his inn. Oh, the Homestead was a madhouse on Holidays! Keld’s food would draw the biggest crowds in Falkreath Hold!”

  Chase set his fork down.

  “Helgen?” He spoke somberly. “Your uncle was in Helgen?”

  Reinhardt gave Chase a pensive smile. “You heard it. But this ain’t the time for sad stories, Argonian. I’ve made my peace with what happened. It’s just part of the reason I’m here, now.”

  “I see...”

  Chase went back to eating quietly. Reinhardt peered over at me with a sly smirk.

  “So… the Dragonborn, eh?”

  I glanced up from my food.

  “Uh-huh. What about him?”

  The Nord chuckled.

  “Nice catch. Been together long?”

  Chase forced something down his throat. He held up a hand to communicate stop while gagging on whatever he swallowed.

  “No, no… You seem to have the wrong impression,” he blurted. “She and I are–”

  “It’s none of your business,” I said flatly.

  Reinhardt raised his eyebrows. “Ah, so that’s the way it is.” He respectfully bobbed his head, interrupting Chase before he could speak. “Say no more, say no more. I can see you’re both, uh… still working things out.”

  I took a sip of wine. “You could say that.”

  The Nord was free to believe whatever he fancied about us. I really didn’t care. Chase shot me a harsh look from the corner of his eye.

  “Do not entertain this thought,” he hissed, almost inaudibly.           

  I pretended to ignore him. I’ll entertain whatever thoughts I damn well please. Sooner or later he was going to learn that.

  The rest of the meal went on conversationless. We might have been eating together – we might have even fought together – but we were all still a bunch of strangers. This wasn’t family dinner time. There were unspoken tensions all throughout the room. Everyone was still deciding who to trust.

  The next person to break the silence was Chase, of all people. Our introverted Dragonborn had another question yet.

  “How long have you been running from the Thalmor?” he asked Delphine.                        

  “Most of my life. For years all I cared about was staying alive, and taking revenge on the Thalmor when I could. But then, of course, the dragons returned…”

  “Mm. We may both share a thing or two in common, Delphine. Of this I am becoming quite certain.”

  The woman took it as a good omen, a sign that things were working in her favor. That’s what I think.

  “I mentioned my Grandmaster,” she said. “There’s something else he told us. He believed that if and when we found a Dragonborn… we would need to protect him against the Thalmor. For his sake, for all the Blades, I’m still holding to that.” Delphine let those words settle in, making sure Chase was listening.

  He sighed.

  “A touching sentiment, but equally foolish. I am beyond your ability to protect.”

  “I think I can handle a few high elves and dragons,” Delphine expressed with cold confidence.

  “They may be among the least of your worries,” he replied. “I have enemies much like yours. Powerful enemies. If you cannot destroy the Thalmor, then you will not destroy them either…”

  Chase tilted his head, scarred side facing the fire.

  “…or stop them.”

  The Nord and elf exchanged looks. Delphine wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. She was a woman with steel on her bones and ice water in her veins.

  “Doesn’t change what needs to be done,” she said. “We're going to stop these dragons together, even if we have to put every last one of them back in the ground.”

  “You presume I would agree to this…”

  “You will. You have to.”

  They stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Then Chase heaved a sigh.

  “Yes… I will.”

  I gripped my tail, eyes on Delphine. She says she’s here to serve Chase… Looks more like the other way around to me.

  “You’re sure about this?” I said, leaning toward him.

  “This woman seems honest enough,” he replied, staring intently at her. “Do you have a network of associates in Skyrim? Others like Farengar?”

  Delphine’s smile was barely visible. “I wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t. Trust me. I've been doing this a long time. We’ll have a better chance of stopping the dragons if we help each other.”

  “On that we appear to agree.”

  What? Why is he so readily accepting her? He wasn’t like this at all with me…

  “We need to find out what the Thalmor know about the dragons,” she said. “That’s our next step.”

  “How will we do this?” Chase asked.

  “I have a few ideas… but I'll need some time to pull things together.” Delphine rose from her seat. “I assume you’ve been to Riverwood. Meet me at the Sleeping Giant Inn. If I'm not back when you get there, wait for me. I shouldn't be long.”

  I supposed that meant the meeting was over. Chase stood up as the woman made for the door.

  “Wait,” he said, motioning toward Falura and Reinhardt. “Are these two not joining you? I thought you were together.”

  “More of a temporary arrangement,” Falura murmured.

  Delphine kept her eyes on the Dragonborn.

  “Chases-The-Wind, you’re the only one who’s really important here. But I’ll take all the help I can get.” She glanced at the rest of us, the unimportant people. “Bring them along or not, it’s your call. But remember… we don’t want word of this getting out. The Thalmor have spies all over Skyrim. Trust no one.”

  Chase bowed his head. “As you say. We will meet again in Riverwood.”   

  The Blade left our company, heading out the inn’s doorway. She spoke in parting.

  “Keep an eye on the sky. This is only going to get worse.”

  She shut the door behind her, leaving us four together. A Nord, a Dark Elf, an Argonian, and a Dragonborn. Falura and Reinhardt stretched their legs. I stayed in my seat, arms crossed, casting an angry stare at that dumb, dragon killing man.

  “Chase, this is crazy,” I muttered.

  He smiled at me. “Yet somehow not the craziest thing I have done today.”

  “Do you trust her? Really?”

  “I rarely trust anyone fully. I believe she may be useful to us.”

  I snorted. “Oh, so we’re using her then?”

  He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Dar-Meena. The dragons need to be stopped. Whatever it takes, we will see that they are.”

  The others were standing opposite us across the dying fire. If Chase was still in pain, he did a good job hiding it. He cast another healing spell. Reinhardt shifted his weight restlessly.

  “Well? Spit it out,” he said. “What have you got for us, Dragonborn?”       

  Chase’s tail gave a flick.

  “My words with you two will be brief. We can step outside, if you lack for air.”

  “That sounds fine,” Falura replied quietly, picking up her staff.

  “Aye,” Reinhardt added with a frown. “But first thing’s first. I’m not gonna clean these dishes by myself. Either of you lizards want to volunteer?”

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