The Story of Trey- Chapter 4 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 4

I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat, and a gun.

Farewell My Lovely
Raymond Chandler


My mind swirled with thoughts of the "Emperor's plans for me" versus an anonymous death on a lonely road somewhere, so I settled in to mix and measure and distill potions. As always, the concentration required for alchemy calmed me. I also took a quiet pride in the fact that my homemade concoctions were getting better- more effective and longer-lasting. I had become a thief through necessity; I was an alchemist by vocation. Relaxed by my labors, I went to sleep, only to be awakened by the crash of someone tripping over my equipment. Shaking off sleep, I thought,

"If one of those clumsy mages has damaged my alchemy apparatus wandering around in the dark..."

By then, I was awake enough to see that it was not a mage, but an assassin, whose dagger had a sticky yellowish substance coating the blade. Poison! With a shout, I rolled from the bed, pulling my sword from beneath the pillow. As I had feared, the Dark Brotherhood had sent a more competent killer for this second attempt. In addition, his poisoned blade needed only to make a small wound to cause serious harm. Although my sword was heavier and could do more physical damage with a successful blow, he was striking me two times for every one I managed. The assassin was quick as a striking serpent, darting inside my guard to stab or slice and then dancing away before I could counter. The poison was a fire in my veins, racing toward my heart, slowing my movements. I had left some of the healing potions I had made on the table; I managed to dodge behind it and down a couple in the interval that bought me. The blessed coolness of magical healing came over me, quenching the poison and closing the bleeding wounds. That made all the difference, for my opponent had no way of repairing the damage he had taken. The blood loss had finally weakened him, and I was able to strike more effectively. Sensing that he was about to launch a suicidal attack that would end both our lives, I distracted him by throwing an empty bottle at his face with my left hand. Even the best-trained fighter will try to duck, and he did, only to meet my blade. With that, it was done and I had time to consider.

First, I needed to think about who had sent the Dark Brotherhood after me. They were from "back home" on the continent, which pointed to an Imperial client, rather than someone from Vvardenfell. Besides, it was my understanding that the Dunmer Great Houses would use the Morag Tong for this sort of thing. The fact that I had started working for Caius seemed to eliminate the Emperor as a suspect; I had initially thought the first attack was the unspoken "or else" to accompany, "work for the Blades...." The Camonna Tong wouldn't use an "outlander" organization to do their killing- in fact, they would probably do it themselves. No one else whose toes I had trod on had the kind of money or influence to use the Dark Brotherhood. It was a mystery, and one I would have to solve eventually. But one thing was immediately clear- I was going to have to find somewhere more remote to sleep. The mages had not helped me or even come to see what the commotion was about. Maybe the assassin had cast a Silence spell just before he attacked. Regardless, both attempts had taken place in the Mages Guild, so I wouldn't be sleeping there anymore.

The other thing I could do was convert the late assassin's gear into cash. My Caldera buyer wouldn't ask any questions, even if he was curious about where the armor came from. Better still, he paid full price. Between that and the 1000 drakes from Sugar-Lips, I could probably afford better alchemy apparatus. I still wouldn't be able to get Grandmaster quality, assuming I could even find it, but even Master level would improve my work significantly. If I starting making a few items for sale, I could even recover my investment. And that was my ultimate goal- to get enough money to be left alone- or to at least make it too troublesome for people to bother me.

After taking care of those chores, I should probably talk to Caius or Sugar-Lips about a job or two that would get me out of Balmora. In fact, it might be a good idea to follow Ajira's advice and look up Edwinna Elbert at the Ald-ruhn Mages Guild. I could also consider finishing the pilgrimages for the Temple. Even though I wasn't going to run anymore, neither was I going to paint a target on my back and just sit still. As sleep was no longer an option, I put my plan into effect immediately. With the dead assassin's gear in my pack, I had the guild guide transport me to Caldera. As I passed through the Caldera Mages Guild, Folms Mirel reminded me that there were still a number of propylon indices to find. In fact, he noted that he had just received word that a pilgrim had left the Falasmaryon index as an offering at the Temple shrine in Maar Gan. He added, "That shouldn't present a problem for an enterprising adventurer like yourself." I might have resented the implication that I was a thief, except for the fact that it was true.

Finally, I settled on updating my alchemy equipment and working on a better Chameleon spell with Estirdalin- preferably one that might last 30 seconds or more. Next, I went to see Sugar-Lips, who had some disturbing news. She mentioned that the Camonna Tong had been making threats recently, which was nothing new. What was new was that some of the threats were about "that Breton n'wah who had the nerve to steal from Camonna Tong territory in Hla Oad." Apparently I hadn't gotten away from Fatleg's as cleanly as I thought. And even though Phane Rielle had gotten the official bounty removed, Camonna didn't care about "official." It looked like it was time to settle this issue permanently. I already had the Dark Brotherhood dogging me; someone or something sending me weird dreams; and that didn’t even consider the Dunmer "Sleepers" who kept telling me to bow down to Dagoth Ur.

If I happened to do a favor for Captain Larrius Varro at the same time as I got Camonna Tong off my back, that was a price I was willing to pay. After all, I admired the Captain's show of intelligence and good taste in asking me to handle the problem for him. Before I dove in headfirst, it would be wise to think this thing through. There were at least five Camonna Tong in the Council Club. Regardless of my new skills and toughness, that was a lot to handle by myself. Then, too, there was the issue of the bounty. I really didn't want to have to pay blood price for all that Camonna scum, so I couldn't just walk up and start flailing around with my sword. If I played it carefully, I could cut a few of them out of the crowd one at a time and push them into attacking me first. It may be hard to imagine, but some people found me annoying. All I had to do was play on the Camonna's hatred of foreigners and what some perceived as my natural obnoxiousness. After that it would be, "I don't know why it happened, Officer. I was minding my own business, having a drink, and the guy attacked me. I had to defend myself."

With that in mind, I went to the Eight Plates and bought a bottle of shein. As I made my way to the Council Club, I uncorked the bottle and swished some of the liquor around in my mouth, then spit it out. Next, I splashed a liberal amount on my clothing and dumped about half of the rest onto the ground. With that, I staggered into the Council Club, singing at the top of my lungs. Just inside the door stood Thanelen Velas, the Camonna smith. And he was alone. Cutting off my song, I threw a friendly arm around the startled Dunmer and slurred,

"It's my birthday, pal. Here. Have a drink."

As I breathed, "Here" into his face, I waved the jug wildly, "accidently" splashing him with some of the foul stuff. Already annoyed by my mere presence, Velas called me a series of rude names and wrenched out from under my arm.

"Aw, here now, Elfie," I protested, "that shein makes a nice cover for your usual smell."

With that, I ostentatiously held my nose. "You'd think some of your Camonna friends would tell you," I added helpfully.

That pushed the smith beyond rational thought. With an inarticulate scream, he pulled a Dwemer war axe and swung wildly. It took all my control to stand still and let him draw first blood, but I wanted as good a case for self-defense as I could get. After he hacked my raised left arm, I pulled my sword and soon found myself in a fight for my life. Partly, it was that Velas was tough. Then there was that axe, which did serious damage on every hit. He even managed to knock me down a couple of times. As I looked up from that perspective, I noticed something- he was a Dunmer with red hair, worn in a row, using a Dwemer war axe. Where had I heard that description before? Again, my healing potions literally saved my life; Velas had me in trouble several times before I could finish him. That fight showed me that I was going to need a better sword if I was to survive. Tarhiel's Sparksword was fine for rats and hounds, but it just didn't pack enough punch against a good opponent. After relieving him of the axe and a few gold, I got out of there. It was the first time I had deliberately set out to kill someone, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

As much to soothe my conscience as anything else, I decided to talk with Ralen Hlaalo's maid to confirm my suspicion that Velas was the murderer she had seen. She immediately recognized the axe and my description and told me I should see Nileno Dorvayn at the Hlaalu Council Hall. I had never been in the Council Hall before, even though Balmora was Hlaalu territory. It hadn't seemed like a good idea to draw the attention of a Great House. When I explained my presence to Nileno, she was impressed. She said,

"Even though you are not a member of any House, you brought the murderer to justice."

She gave me 1000 drakes as a reward and promised to make sure House Hlaalu knew of my deed. She even offered to put in a good word for me if I wanted to join the House. The reward was nice, but I somehow felt as though it were tainted. No matter how I tried to convince myself that the Camonna Tong was a threat, that it was them or me, I didn't like the way I had goaded Velas into the fight. Always before, I had been attacked directly; this time, I started it. Worst of all, I knew it wasn't over. There were four more Camonna Tong members left. Even if I managed to defeat them all, I didn't think I would feel like a winner. And I wasn't sure there was enough water in all Tamriel to make me feel clean again.

[treydog]

This "Trey of High Rock, Imperial Spy" business was getting complicated, and I didn't like complexity. Without meaning to, I was getting involved in religion and politics, and worst of all, religious politics. Being a thief is simple: see the stuff, steal the stuff, sell the stuff. And don't get caught. Simple. I already had the Dark Brotherhood and the Camonna Tong after me- this business with the cults seemed likely to cause the Temple to take an unfriendly interest in me, too. All of these worries distracted me to the point that I managed to wander out of Jobasha's without even looking around, let alone buying anything. Let me repeat that, I walked out of what was probably the best bookshop in all of Vvardenfell without buying anything! It was probably just as well that I was distracted; otherwise, I would probably have spent every bit of the 2000 or so drakes I was carrying. Fortunately, I didn't. Even more fortunately, the bookshop wasn't going anywhere. While I made my way through the Foreign Quarter, I decided that I should go on over to St. Olms and find Addhiranirr. Even though the implications of this spy game were making me nervous, a deal was a deal. I had told Caius I would do this and I had to see it through.

Inside the St. Olms waistworks, I stopped a rough-looking Dunmer who struck me as the sort who would know something about the Thieves Guild. Idly tossing a coin, I asked him,

"Seen Addhiranirr lately?"

He licked his lips and stared at the gold piece. But he was a tough sell, just the same.

"Who? I don't think I know anyone by that name."

I pulled two more 10-septim coins from my pockets and started juggling them. Sweat broke out on the dark elf's forehead as he watched the display. I palmed the three coins and then made a show of pulling them out from behind his ear.

"I think you must have dropped these," I said, and pressed them into his hand.

"She's probably down in the underworks, dodging that Census and Excise Agent. Go downstairs and then through one of the trapdoors."

I thanked him and set out to explore the St. Olms underworks. If Addhiranirr was hiding from a Census and Excise Agent, I had a feeling we were going to get along just fine. The underworks proved to be a dark, smelly, rat-infested series of tunnels and canals. I couldn't do anything about the dark or the smell, but I thinned the rat population considerably. I really wished the city had a rat bounty- I would never have to steal again. Of course, if there was a bounty, every 12-year-old with a pointy stick would have been down there, falling into the canals and getting into trouble. As it stood there were no children- just a harassed-looking Khajiit. I had found my next contact; like everything else on this job, that was the easy part.

Addhiranirr wouldn't talk unless I could "get rid of" the Census and Excise Agent. She claimed his presence "distracted" her. Even when I mentioned Caius, she wouldn't budge- as long as the tax man was nosing around, she had nothing to say. Of course, "getting rid of" the guy didn't have to mean killing him. If he would just go away, that would serve. Besides, killing a Census and Excise Agent was a very bad idea. With no other choice, I climbed back up the stairs to see if I could find the man and make an arrangement. I didn't think a bribe would work- these guys were chosen because they had an unnatural ability to handle money without any of it sticking to their fingers. How do you even talk to somebody like that?

The agent was easy to find, he was a stuffy Imperial wearing fancy robes and bothering anyone he could corner. Getting rid of him ought to be considered a public service. And I had an idea of how to accomplish that goal. I wandered past as if I hadn't even noticed him and he pounced.

"You look like a fellow who knows his way around," he said. "I'm new here and I'm trying to find my friend, Addhiranirr. Have you seen her?"

I had to admire his gall- claiming to be Addhiranirr's friend took some nerve. Of course, I knew better, so I said,

"Isn't she a Khajiit, about so high? I just saw her taking a boat to the mainland." After all, one lie deserves another.

He left so quickly, the breeze from his robes nearly knocked me down. That was much more satisfying than killing him. It was also a lot safer.

Back in the underworks, the Khajiit thief was in a better frame of mind. She was happy that the tax man was gone, but didn't want any details. She knew nothing of the Nerevarine cult, calling it "silly superstition for fuzzy kitties," but had some interesting information about the Sixth House. What she knew was that the Sixth House was deeply involved in smuggling- and they were moving a lot of something. They were moving enough material that most of the smugglers who usually handled regular contraband were tied up with Sixth House stuff. Even more disturbing was the fact that the smugglers weren't talking about what it was they were moving. Any outfit that could monopolize the smuggling network and convince them to keep quiet was more than just disturbing- it was frightening. Not for the first time, I wondered what I had gotten into. Regardless, I had one more person to see, and I had a feeling she was going to be the most difficult. I was going to have to go right to the heart of the Temple's power base to see Mehra Milo. And I was going to have to ask her about subjects the Temple didn't want discussed.

The trick to getting into places where you aren't supposed to be is to act like you should be there. If you can come up with a legitimate reason, so much the better. I've mentioned before that skulking in the shadows near your target is the surest way to draw unwanted attention. It's far better to walk right up to the guard and ask for directions. What I needed now was a reason to go to the Temple library in the Hall of Wisdom. The proximity of the Hall of Justice made this a difficult proposition. There were going to be Ordinators all over the place, so I needed a cover story that would stand up to scrutiny. I didn't think "rat-catcher" would be enough. Then I overheard some gossip about the series of murders that had taken place in the city. They hadn't been solved yet, and the Office of the Watch was considering looking for some "outside help." That might be the opportunity I needed. Most of the people talking about the murders seemed to believe that anyone or anything that could take out two Ordinators must be big, bad, and scary. I had a different idea- whoever was doing this didn't appear threatening, so the Ordinators and other victims hadn't been expecting trouble. And Ordinators can be taken as easily as anyone else if they are caught flat-footed. The thing was, all the victims had had their throats cut. That meant that these killings weren't fights, they were ambushes- the killer was slipping up behind the victims and making a killing strike. The problem "elite" outfits like the Ordinators have is: they start to believe their own propaganda. "We are the best. We are invincible. We cannot be defeated." And other people believe it, too. So nobody challenges the image. Meanwhile, as the "elite" guards sit around polishing their armor and their egos, their actual skills get rusty. Give me the guy with the scars and the battered armor any day- he has seen combat and survived. That means he knows something about the reality. He may not be pretty, but he will know which end of his sword to use on the enemy. Anyway, this little problem would be my reason for showing up at the Temple. After all, I was a foreigner and five of the victims had been foreigners. So I would offer my valuable assistance in tracking down the "Vivec Slasher." And, while I was there, what would be more natural than paying a visit to the library? And if I happened to speak to Mehra Milo, it was just part of my investigation.

The Office of the Watch was in the Hall of Justice. I had to take a deep breath before opening the door; I just couldn't get used to the idea of going into jails or guard offices on purpose. There were two Dunmer in the room; both were dressed as Ordinators, except without the masks. Unsure who was who, I approached the Dunmer on the left and introduced myself. He was tall for a dark elf and had a nasty and painful-looking rash on his face. He said his name was Tarer Braryn and then asked if I was in the Mage Guild. When I said yes, he asked me if I would be willing to carry his apology to Arch-Mage Trebonius. It seemed that Braryn had gotten drunk and called the Arch-Mage a "flat-head." When he awoke, he was suffering from a rash that no potion or spell seemed able to cure. He would gladly pay me 50 drakes for delivering his apology, along with a book, to Trebonius. As it seemed to be a simple way to make a friend in the Office of the Watch, I readily agreed. Braryn gave me a copy of Aedra and Daedra as well as an expression of regret to pass along. I promised to handle the matter quickly and quietly, then turned to Elam Andas, the Chief of the Watch. As I had hoped, he had a serious matter to discuss.