The robed assassin made his way back through the city more carefully than he had entered, for it wasn't likely that the gate guard he'd encountered had ended his shift yet, and would probably recognize him if he attempted to pass through that gate. Fortunately, as with most cities, there were other gates for him to choose from. He left by the eastward gate instead, and when his dark horse appeared from behind a nearby tree to greet him, he frowned at her.
"I told you to stay put."
The animal snorted, showing no sign of concern or that she even cared what her master thought about it.
"Yes, yes all right. Let's get home quickly--I despise Leyawiin's weather..." He mounted, and the two of them rode off.

Back in Cheydinhal, the argonian woman, whose name was Ocheeva, was rounding everyone up for dinner. Some assassins had their own homes to live in, but for many, the Sanctuary [i]was[/i] the home. It provided a safe place to sleep and recover, a place to get work, and a place to eat. Some larger Sanctuaries even had their own libraries for the avid reader. But in most cases, Sanctuaries were small places, providing the most basic comforts of living. Because the Sanctuary was so small, the group that lived in them became somewhat like a family--and was often called such--and there were never any secrets. If there were, well, it wasn't one for long. Of course, as the Sanctuary's mistress, Ocheeva [i]did[/i] of course have her favorites among the assassins, though would hardly be kind or appropriate of her to say as such. One of these assassins she rather liked was Laandrin--a redguard fellow whom she found to be rather amusing. She approached this man.
"Brother, I'm calling the family in to dinner. Are you joining us?"