The Story of Trey - Chapter 3 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 3

What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep…. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell.

Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep


As I staggered out of the teleport area of the Caldera Mages Guild, waiting for my stomach to catch up, I looked the place over. The building's interior reminded me of High Rock- hardwood floors and plaster walls. Before I had gone five steps, an intense-looking Dunmer wizard named Folms Mirel stopped me and asked if I would be interested in doing some work for him. He looked like the sort who should be working in some underground laboratory, with electricity crackling, full of vapors and creatures in jars. But the word "work" was music to my ears. He had been researching something called "propylon indices" and believed he had discovered a way to create a "Master Index." That was all very interesting, but what in Oblivion was a "propylon index?" It seemed that the ancient Dunmer had created a means of traveling from one of their strongholds to another, using an artifact called a propylon index, keyed to the specific propylon chamber they wished to reach. There were ten of those strongholds still standing on the island of Morrowind and the Master Index would enable one to travel to any of the ten. Mirel was so certain of success that he was willing to pay 500 drakes for each index I brought him. Best of all, he was interested in the experiment for the pure science- once the Master Index was complete, he would give it to me and provide the magic required to power my travel from stronghold to stronghold. That sounded like a great bargain, which made me instantly suspicious. Although I figured there must be a catch, I needed the money so badly I agreed to the proposition.

Mirel was pleased by my agreement and told me that the first index, the Hlormaren, was right there in Caldera. Irgola the Pawnbroker had it. The indices did not display any sign of enchantment, so a Detection spell would not identify it. He described it as a small, grayish stone. After getting directions to Irgola's, I left the Mages Guild and took a look around Caldera. Like Pelegiad, it reminded me of home- stone and timber buildings with thatched roofs, a stone wall that was more decorative than protective, cobbled streets. And, like Pelegiad, it contained a large number of Imperial soldiers. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a good base, after all. Curious about the presence of so many guards in a town that didn't have a fort nearby, I asked an Argonian what made Caldera so important. He summed it up in one word, "Ebony." One of the richest ebony mines ever discovered was located just over the mountains south of town, and the Empire wanted to protect their interest. Ebony was heavy, used for making high-quality weapons and armor, and expensive. The guards were there to ensure that nobody got sticky fingers. Thus enlightened, I went to visit Irgola, hoping he wouldn't have any idea of the value of the propylon index. Another lesson for future reference- pawnbrokers almost always know exactly what something is worth. They wouldn't stay in business, otherwise. Worse yet, the shop had its very own Imperial guard. And worst of all, the index was on a windowsill right beside Irgola. If I wanted to "shop at a 100% discount," I would have to walk right past him and lift the item from under his nose. Getting caught would lose me the 500 gold and the dingus. No, I was going to have to negotiate.

I quickly concluded that Mirel himself must have attempted to get the index from Irgola. And if he had, he had managed to make the pawnbroker suspicious and aware that the item had value. He actually wanted more than 500 drakes for it. With no other choice, I trudged back to the Mages Guild, where I could get better prices, and converted some of my better potions into cash. I hated to part with them; they were mostly gifts from Ajira, but there didn't seem to be much choice. After paying Irgola's price, I brought the index back to Mirel, who paid me the promised 500. This moneymaking venture was going about as well as my others- I was down about 70 drakes. And the experience highlighted a weakness in my training and knowledge. My stealth skills were simply not good enough to lift an item while the owner was watching. What I needed was some sort of Illusion magic to improve my ability to remain unnoticed while going about my business. Although Illusion wasn't one of my better schools, my Breton heritage gave me some natural ability with all magic. Therefore, I needed to ask around and see if anyone in Caldera could teach me some concealment spells. There, my luck took a turn for the better. Eraamion could teach either Brevasa's Averted Eyes or Golanar's Eye-Maze. The first was a little cheaper, but was also an invisibility spell- it would dissipate as soon as I took an action other than movement. Golanar's was a Chameleon spell, just what I wanted.

My skills needed some work; maybe I could go just outside of Caldera and practice my new Illusion spell. If I combined the Chameleon spell with my natural stealth, I could stalk some scribs or something. It might look silly, but looking silly was better than what would happen if I failed attempting to sneak up on some dangerous beast. Besides, this close to a town, what could go wrong? Surely all those Imperial guards had kept the wildlife under control. Right there, I made two mistakes. First, never, never, never ask, "what could go wrong," unless you are anxious to find out; second, never assume that guards are good for anything except eating pastries and giving an honest thief a hard time. Oh, and a bonus third error, don't assume that "civilization" means the same thing on Morrowind as it does elsewhere in the Empire.

I wandered a hundred yards or so out of Caldera, working my way northeast. Once I got near the ridge, I cast Beggars Nose to identify likely targets for practicing my stealth. I expected to turn up a few scribs and maybe a kwama forager. As I got closer to the mountains, I began to hear an annoying "skreee-eee" sound. Whatever was making it, there seemed to be several of them- the sound was coming from all around me. "Oh well," I thought, "probably just some sort of carrion bird like a vulture. Nasty creatures, but hardly a threat." Just then something came flapping and screeching down the mountainside and began to batter me with wings, beak, and tail. I caught a glimpse of a 4-winged nightmare with leathery, scaly skin and a hammerhead. And the smell.... it was a terrible odor of some animal left dead for weeks in the sun. The stench almost gave me more trouble than the club-like appendage at the end of the tail. I finally got my shield and sword up and began to fight back. It was difficult to strike effectively, as the flying fiend swooped in and darted up and out of reach. Finally, I damaged the wings enough to bring it down and finish it. Able to examine the corpse, I recognized that this was the infamous cliff-racer, a disgusting pest that infested the mountainous areas of Vvardenfell. As I recovered from that battle, I heard the unmistakable growl of a nix-hound galloping up behind me. Then came another pair of cliff-racers. In spite of the seemingly endless attacks, I had the presence of mind to cast Soul Trap on a couple of the cliff-racers. The idea of using the life-essence of those loathsome beasts to power my enchantments gave me a deep satisfaction. It was almost with relief that I saw a doorway built into the cliff-face. The markings indicated that it was the Indalen Tomb. Whatever was in there couldn't be any worse than the constant attacks coming at me from all sides out here. I plunged into the welcoming darkness of the tomb.

Gathering my wits, I cast my detection spell to see what might be sharing the tomb with me. The spell indicated at least three enchantments, as well as three creatures. The otherworldly inhabitants of the tomb didn't seem to appreciate the intrusion of the living- they whispered and howled around me as I moved deeper. It was almost enough to drive me back outside to the cliff-racers, but the lure of those enchanted items drew me onward. The first chamber contained a number of ingredients, apparently left to nourish and placate the spirits of the ancestors. There was also a minor potion and a magic absorption scroll. The final enchantment was a ring called a Sparkbolt that allowed the user to do minor electrical damage to an opponent. I should have stopped there, happy with the ingredients and items, but I decided to push deeper into the tomb to discover what creatures inhabited the last few chambers. On the other side of a locked door was a Scamp- the least of the daedra that Tamrielic summoners conjured from the Plane of Oblivion. I managed to surprise this one and had no trouble dispatching him. The same was true of a second Scamp, resident of another chamber. The last creature nearly made me a permanent resident of the tomb, though. As I entered that final room, a monstrous shape shuffled toward me. It appeared roughly human, but grotesquely malformed, as if someone with no idea of anatomy had hastily stitched the parts together. Bones poked through flesh and openings gaped in the limbs and torso. I was so revolted; I almost didn't remember to defend myself. I have always been particularly afraid of undead; surely this was one of that cursed family of constructs. The beast hit me and I felt my strength and stamina drain away. I was going to have to win quickly or I would be unable to move. Fortunately, the Bonewalker, for such it was, moved slowly due to the way it was made. A rapid series of strokes with the sword caused the vile creature to disappear, leaving only a pile of bonemeal. I later learned that I had been fortunate to not catch a disease from the attack; my damaged attributes recovered in a short time. This expedition had not worked out at all as I had intended. It was time to get back to town and consider what I should do next.

Returning to Caldera, I asked Mirel about the next index. This time, it sounded a bit better; the Marandus index had been packed up with a lot of junk and stored in the St. Olms Temple at Vivec City. A trip to Vivec made sense; several of the pilgrimage shrines for the Tribunal Temple were located there. I might as well do the pilgrimages- I needed all the help I could get- even from gods I wasn't sure I believed in. Feeling that a city would be safer than the wilderness, I prepared for my foray to Vivec. It should be simple enough to find the Marandus index. After all, how big could the place be?

[treydog]

Since arriving in Morrowind, I had been pushed, insulted, and attacked. And for a while, I had taken it; fighting back when I could. But mostly I had run. I had left Seyda Neen rather than face Hrisskar; I had allowed fear of the Camonna Tong and the Empire to push me out of Balmora. If I continued this way, I would have nowhere left to run, except for some cave in the hills. That was one choice, but it wasn't the only one. Instead of running, I could make myself stronger and face my attackers. Some problems were simple and could be dealt with simply- like Hrisskar. Other problems, like the Empire, were far more complex. Even assuming I could get to the Emperor and give him a thrashing, that wouldn't solve my problems. The Emperor was NOT the Empire. Although his words were law and people lived or died at his whim, the Empire was a vast apparatus of functionaries and soldiers, priests and spies. The best I could hope for from the Empire was a truce- an agreement that they would leave me alone. But a truce is a bargain- each side has something the other wants, and is willing to deal. As things stood, the Empire held all the cards; they knew something about me that made me of interest to them. And rather than simply slip a knife between my ribs, the Emperor had personally sent me here and recruited me into his spy network, the Blades. Why? I only knew one person who could answer my questions and that was Caius Cosades.

Other circumstances pushed me into a second meeting with the spymaster, as well. When I had returned to Balmora after my experiences in Vivec, I had given a great deal of thought to the Tribunal Temple. I had "joined" the Temple for mercenary reasons; I needed access to spells and services only they could provide. But something had happened there in the Puzzle Canal and, for the first time in my life, I was thinking seriously about religion. While I was working on improving my skills, I had considered ways to find out more about the Temple. The obvious answer, to ask the priests themselves, I discarded immediately. Ask any established religious institution for their views on religion in general and they will agree that, yes, there are many faiths, but all the others are wrong. What I needed was an outsider's opinion, preferably from someone who could view religion impartially. The Mages Guild had no interest in religion; they cared only about magic. Next, I considered the Thieves Guild- they traded in information and tried to stay attuned to the power structure wherever they were. My reasoning up to that point was correct; my choice of informant could have been better. I needed someone who didn't have an axe to grind with the Temple, and I should have remembered how the Dunmer viewed Khajiit and Argonians.

Sugar-Lips was not amused by my question. She flattened her ears and bristled,

"Sugar-Lips has no time for foolish questions about the dark elves. The dark elves think Khajiit are animals with no intelligence, fit only to grub in the fields or labor in the mines. And besides, the Camonna Tong presses us harder each day. Their people walk free, thanks to the bribes they pay, while Sugar-Lips' friends rot in jail. If Trey wants to ask foolish questions, let him ask one who knows. It is said Caius Cosades collects information about the dark elf religion; let Trey ask him."

I hadn't realized the enormous strain the secret war with the Camonna Tong was having on the Thieves Guild, but I should have. After all, to whom could the Guild complain? They couldn't very well go to the Imperial Legion and ask for help with their illegal operations. The Camonna Tong, on the other hand, had powerful friends to assist them whenever necessary. The Thieves Guild was barely hanging on, and might not survive the struggle. Captain Larrius Varro's "little story" took on a new meaning. Perhaps I would have to look into that situation, after all. But for now, it appeared that all roads took me to Caius Cosades' door. I had probably known all along that I couldn't avoid him forever, but I had enjoyed the illusion of freedom. Maybe the spymaster would answer my questions, but I had a feeling he would want something in return. The only real question was how high a price he would demand.

Caius didn't appear to have given much thought to my long absence. Either the skooma had affected his sense of time, or he had anticipated my rebellion. I had a fairly good idea which it was. When he asked me if I was ready for some orders, I said,

"If I can get some answers."

Caius bluntly replied, "Depends on the questions. You ask and I'll decided if you can have the answers."

Since that was as good a deal as I was likely to get, I agreed and explained that I was curious about the Dunmer religious beliefs. Caius' smile was more frightening than his scowl.

"Funny you should ask. The Emperor needs to know more about a couple of secret Dunmer cults, the Sixth House and the Nerevarine Cult. Talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the Balmora Fighters Guild and ask what he knows about these cults. He'll probably ask you to do a favor for him first, and it will probably be dangerous or illegal, or both. Do it anyway and report back to me with the information." He paused a moment, and then added,

"Hasphat is a student of Morrowind history; it wouldn't hurt to ask him your questions. You can also read some of the books I have here. Now beat it and get to work."

I left Caius' place and made my way across the Odai to the Fighters Guild. I had passed the building with its unmistakable shield placard numerous times (it was next door to the Mages Guild), but never gone in. As I have said, I didn't completely trust the Fighters Guild's choice of clients- it struck me that they were willing to do anything for money. If it had all been straight "go-kill-the-dangerous-beast" jobs, I might have been willing. But sometimes, the "dangerous beast" someone wanted dead was a person in my line of work. Even if the target was a complete blackguard, it seemed hypocritical of me to take money for killing him. What I did on my own time and for my own reasons was a different matter- but I wouldn't become a killer-for-hire. Finding Hasphat proved simple enough; he was working in a training room in the basement of the Guild hall. As Caius had predicted, the fighter/scholar wanted to make a deal for his information. And I was going to be the lucky winner.

"There's a Dwemer ruin called Arkngthand nearby," Hasphat told me. "Go in there and find me a Dwemer Puzzle Box. I want to study one." He then went on to explain that the box was a coppery metal cube about the size of a fist, with different inscriptions on a couple of the faces. He also let me know that possession of Dwemer artifacts was considered a crime- all such material was the property of the Empire. I appreciated his blunt honesty, but what was the worst they could do- throw me in prison and exile me to some gods forsaken island? Besides, I had no intention of waving any Dwemer artifacts around at the guards. I had a couple of buyers in mind if I came across anything other than the box Hasphat wanted.

Finding Arkngthand was easy enough; it was just a little west of Fort Moonmoth. As I cracked my jaws trying to pronounce the name of the place, I decided that the Dwemer died out because they twisted their tongues so badly with their language that they couldn't eat. While crossing the metal bridge, I spotted an Imperial with a couple of two-wheel carts and some crates and barrels at the end nearest the ruin. "Odd place for a peddler," I thought, "This doesn't really strike me as a tourist attraction." About then, the old man shouted a curse and began waving his hands in front of him. With expert judgment, I deduced what he was up to and looked around for the cliff-racer that was surely about to attack the both of us. Unfortunately, my lightning thought process turned out to be mistaken, as a summoned skeletal warrior appeared in front of the man and ran toward me, sword extended. Not content with that, the battlemage cast a fire-based spell at me for good measure. Why was it that every wizard I faced seemed to have a stock of elemental damage spells- the kind my resistance didn't affect? I wasn't helpless though, so I concentrated my attack on the mage, knowing his summoning would dissipate if he were killed. As the fight reached close quarters, he pulled out an axe and did his best to split me in two. My sword practice while I had been in the wilderness proved beneficial, and the mage fell quickly. His skeletal helper vanished in a puff of smoke and I had the bridge to myself.

Before proceeding, I decided to see what would cause this fellow to attack a stranger on sight. The boxes and barrels revealed a few weapons, and most significant, some gems and Dwemer artifacts. That explained it- I had walked up on a smuggler loading up his goods and he took exception to being caught. Given half a chance, I would have told him my philosophy was that everyone had to make a living. His decision to attack first had made negotiations impossible. As I said earlier, I had grown tired of being pushed. Hereafter, anyone who attacked me would receive payment in kind. Among other things, Morrowind had burned any misplaced sense of mercy right out of me. When you are strong and safe, mercy is a luxury you can afford. When you are hemmed and harried on all sides, the only answer is to fight back. And I would always fight to win.