It would be a month or so before I saw the strange khajiit again. By that point, everyone in Whiterun had heard of the mysterious new hero, the supposed Dragonborn, but few seemed to know who he really was; in a country suddenly full of people loudly proclaiming their unique mastery of The Voice, the real Dovahkiin – if there even was a real Dovahkiin - was being remarkably quiet.
I was in my chamber in Jorrvaskr, deep in discussion with Skjor about Kodlak. Again.
“All this sneaking around,” I was saying. “We can’t keep it up forever…”
Skjor nodded. “I agree. We need to deliver a killing blow now; I say we rally the rest of The Circle tomorrow night, strike The Silverhand with all our forces and deal with the problem before Kodlak ever has to know.”
“No.” I shook my head firmly. “Farkas and Vilkas will never join us without Kodlak’s approval; we need to convince the old man first.” Besides,