Uirrigan fell silent after that part of our conversation. As though someone had called him to some other task- and I suppose his scientific inquiry was the one calling him- he got up and began climbing to the top of the dais. I was confused at his sudden departure up to this height until I heard footsteps behind me- heavy ones. In an instant, I was on my feet and turned around toward the sound.
"I am living here a long time," the heavy-footed shadow sighed as he stepped into the light. "You have little to fear from me. The last one- his death- it is much changing things."
His testimony was made true in the dim light of the few torches that burned on the walls. His left eye was scarred shut, his bare arms and chest kissed with horrible witnesses to what must have once been painful wounds. His heavy, worn kilij was carried, although the tip nearly touched the floor, with knowledge. In an instant, I knew, that blade could be flicked up to my neck and clean through. The last third of his tail had been hacked off, it seemed, and his right leg, bare to the upper thigh, sported scales of an entirely different color than the rest of his body.
"I do look a sight, do I not?" he laughed in a throaty baritone. At last, I noted that his Common was heavily accented. For the first time, I wondered what my own Common sounded like. "I am child of war. Most of these scars are older than you. You look to me as though you are seeing twenty harvests- please to correct me, if I am wrong."
"You may be right, for all I know," I responded briefly.
"Tell me," he continued as he lifted his sword slightly to consider it. "Are you a good thief?"
"If I were, you wouldn't know it," I replied, completely confused by the question. I noted, out of the corner of my eye, that Uirrigan had taken a seat atop the dais. I figured that he would instantly step in if either the Dragonborn or I made a move that would damage his experimentation.
"You are correct," he responded from up above as though he had heard my thoughts. "And your friend must be doing something that is taking her attention away from protecting you. I will distract Syjen shortly, to preserve our accord. You understand, however, that I must not appear as though I suspect him. Even if I were to know his intentions, I must be careful to appear as though I approve."
"If you can, can he?" I asked, turning my head just enough to see him without taking my gaze completely from the Dragonborn. I had a feeling he would know what I meant, even though the old warrior before me seemed a bit mystified.
"He may not think to try, but Ylyssa would," Uirrigan responded, a scoff stuck in his voice. "My plight is unenviable."
The room fell silent with a shared knowledge, and I turned my attention back to the Dragonborn.
"So, for years? Why hasn't the experiment finished?"
"There is no more experimenting," the warrior replied, lowering his sword again. "Now I am only unwanted cargo. But I owe a great debt to the winged one, who is saving my life through miracle."
"The miracle of which he speaks is no miracle at all," Uirrigan protested, seeming to have made this argument before. "I merely took samples from previous uncompleted Dragonborn specimens and restored his leg. Some magic, a bit of stitching, and a healthy dose of scientific know-how, but no deities involved. So, no miracle. You want an act of the gods, go see if they will revive that woe-be-gone cleric."
"Who among them will move, if even Iratis is not convincing him to spare his own life?" A brief, bitter chuckle, and then another consideration of his blade. "You are probably preferring not to know me, since you are about to fight me. So I will make introduction after you are earning it." With a slowly released breath, the clearly experienced fighter widened his standing base for a prepared stance and lifted his blade to the ready. "Fight hard. Though you are a good thief, there is not one step you can take without my hearing it."
I simply nodded, taking my daggers close to my arms and getting familiar with my surroundings. I would not be so stupid as to charge a prepared fighter. The Dragonborn nodded his understanding, lightened his stance, and roared as he came at me himself. His initial attack pressed my blades so closely to my arms that my wrists hurt.
"Again, blade-cousin. Give me no mercy. Looks deceive."
A few tense moments of looking him straight in the face were followed with a drop to the floor and a slide between his legs. He turned and pinpointed my location in seconds, lunging forward to take advantage of my insecure, transitioning footing. Without thinking about it, I sprung, put one hoof lightly on his sword and used the moving energy to take the front of my other hoof to his face. He took one step back, a little stunned, but I wound up on all fours for a few moments. I scrambled to get up before he could take advantage of that- I'd already seen enough of the edge of that huge sword.
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