The Story of Trey- Chapter 6 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 6

From the perspective of so many years later, I understand that trying to solve things with violence is futile. If you create a power vacuum in the criminal world, plenty of people will be glad to fill it. Even worse is what you risk losing. Not only is there a physical risk, but the risk of spiritual death. The answer to almost any problem becomes, "Kill it." It is a path of madness and despair. I know, because I came very near to walking that path for a time.

The Camonna Tong in Balmora was crippled, most of its members dead at my hands. I had given Larrius Varro his bloodbath; I had bought the Thieves Guild some breathing space. And it wasn't enough. The blood of my enemies had not put out the fire of my anger, it had only fed the flames. In fighting the monster that was the Camonna Tong, I had become monstrous myself. I had decided to become a hunter, determined to track down and destroy whatever trace of the Camonna Tong I could find. Vengeance sang in my brain and my muscles trembled with the need to strike down all who opposed me. I would seek them wherever they laired and cast them into the darkness. I already knew that Hla Oad was considered Camonna territory; I would start there. I sharpened my blades and prepared my potions and spells. A shadow had fallen across my heart and I could not see any light except that cast by the fires of my rage. Our fates rest on such small things, often unseen and unremarked. You take one path instead of another, never knowing that you have avoided an ambush. You decide to eat at home instead of at the corner club on the night of a devastating fire. Or you stop to talk to a man you have vowed to kill, because of the fear in the eyes of a Khajiit slave.

My sources had told me that most of the Camonna in Hla Oad worked in a smuggler's den underneath Fatleg's. A hidden entrance from the sea allowed them to load and unload boats under cover. So it was that I found myself descending through a trapdoor into a vast cavern underneath the humid little village. Although a part of me simply yearned to begin a berserk dance of death more suited to a Nord warrior, the small amount of control I retained counseled caution. Before I started my vendetta, I should locate all of my opponents and determine if there were any hidden exits. Therefore, I bypassed Llemisa Marys, who never knew how close death had come. Deeper in the cavern I found Relam Arinith and also discovered just how evil my sworn enemies truly were. Standing near Arinith was a Khajiit slave, who seemed to be in the grip of a terrible fever or else overwhelmed by fear. Still, despite her constant trembling, her eyes held mine for a brief instant of mute appeal. Arinith obviously thought I was someone else, for he asked me if I had come to "escort the slave to Balmora." Sensing an opportunity to hit the Camonna Tong where it would really hurt, in the pocketbook, I decided to play along. "Sure, I just got in. What's the deal?"

Arinith told me, "This slave, Rabinna, is my payment for a bargain I made with Vorar Helas in Balmora. Take good care of her- she's not much to look at, but it's what's on the inside that counts."

Here was a chance to free a slave and hurt Camonna all at the same time. I could always come back for Arinith later and, even better, he had just given me a name I hadn't known. Once we got out of the hideout, I could see if Rabinna knew anything, and then send her on her way. Perhaps I could even give her a little cash to make her escape easier. And then I would be free to continue on my planned path of mayhem. After we had exited Fatleg's, I tried to speak to the Khajiit, but she seemed paralyzed with fear. Her eyes were locked on the blade that I had forgotten was still in my hand. Hoping to calm her, I sheathed the sword and tried again. Her fright lessened enough to allow speech, but Rabinna still moaned that her "fate was sealed" and that there was no chance of escape. I asked her what she meant and she revealed the true extent of the evil of which the Camonna Tong was capable. She had been forced to swallow a great many packets of moon sugar, wrapped to prevent their dissolving in her stomach. Once she reached Balmora, Vorar Helas would kill her and cut her open to recover the drugs. When I promised that I would not take her to Balmora, Rabinna was grateful, but pointed out that she could not get far wearing a slave bracer. Anyone who was so inclined could capture her and turn her in as a runaway. And her death would follow in short order. But perhaps, she said, there was a chance.

It seemed that someone named Im-Kilaya at the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart worked to return slaves to their homelands. If only she could reach him, she had a chance. How strange are the fates and how narrow the chances that save our humanity. The choice was before me- save this single life or continue on my quest of death. Ultimately, the life, in truth the soul I saved, was my own. For at that moment, it was the desire of this Khajiit for freedom, for life, that turned me aside from a road that would have led to my damnation. I agreed to take her to Ebonheart. Getting to the Argonian Mission was simply a matter of taking the boat from Hla Oad and making our way through the fortified city. As soon as we got inside the mission, Rabinna thanked me and rushed to the side of a richly-dressed Argonian. When I spoke to him, he identified himself as Im-Kilaya and promised to see that the former slave reached safety. He also gave me his thanks and 400 gold, saying, "Perhaps it will help in funding other missions of good will."

Sanity had returned, and I trembled in reaction to what had nearly become of me. How ironic that my hatred of the injustice of slavery had overcome my determination to exterminate a group I had believed I hated even more. Although I had no doubt that the Camonna Tong "needed killing," I was equally certain that administering that justice was reserved for someone else. For a brief, chaotic time, I had believed myself to be the instrument of divine vengeance, the bringer of destruction. Now I knew that I was just myself, Trey of High Rock- no more, no less. And that was enough.

There was something very interesting going on at the Argonian Mission, but no one there seemed inclined to say much about it. They were polite, but it was clear that they didn't completely trust me. As one who had his own secrets, I respected their caution, but I did wonder what they were up to. As I left Ebonheart, I realized that I was at a loss for what to do next. Before I had briefly lapsed into insanity and planned to exterminate the Camonna Tong, I had made sure there were I had no outstanding obligations- I had not believed I would survive. Now, no one was expecting me to go anywhere or to deliver anything- it seemed that I was free to choose my own path. That momentary vision of freedom and free will came to a sudden stop when I reached up to adjust my collar and felt the chain I wore, the chain that held the Emperor's "gift." Very well, then. I had not seen Caius for some time; better for me to visit him than have him come looking for me. No doubt he would have some sort of "go see this person" job in mind. But that was agreeable- he seemed to know some interesting people.

This post has been edited by treydog: Mar 5 2023, 10:27 PM

[treydog]

Note: Sorry I stopped posting the "Missing Pieces"... I ... um... forgot? Anyway, rather than posting a "wall of text" (i.e.- the entire chapter, I will maintain the old "serial novel" practice of putting up 1500-3000 words per post, so that it is (hopefully) more digestible.

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When I wandered into Caius' place in Balmora, my guess as to his orders proved correct- he wanted to develop a source of information regarding the Ashlanders. The spymaster had heard of a trader named Hassour Zainsubani in Ald'ruhn who should be ideal. Although he had left the Ashlands to become a trader, Hassour still maintained contact with the Ashlanders and understood their culture. Caius was not sure where I might locate the trader, but told me to start in the Ald Skar Inn, which was a better quality establishment. He also told me that the Ashlanders had a custom of giving gifts upon meeting and gave me 100 drakes to use for that purpose. If I could find out something about what Hassour liked and offer an appropriate gift, it would probably incline him to provide the information Caius desired. In particular, I was to find out about the Ashlander's Nerevarine Cult. The mission suited me- I had moved most of my gear to the Redoran Council Hall in Ald'ruhn already and also had been intrigued by the small amount of information I had gleaned regarding the Ashlanders. Happy to have something useful to do, I made my way to Ald'ruhn and the Ald Skar Inn.

When I inquired about Hassour, I was told that he was most likely reading in his room or in the back dining room below the bar area. That sounded promising- I believed I could establish a rapport with someone who enjoyed books. When I tracked the trader down in the back room, I saw a well-dressed Dunmer, taller than average, with a face that showed both wisdom and strength. When I introduced myself to him, he politely but firmly asked me to state my business, as I was interrupting his leisure. He wasn't rude, but was clearly accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. When I expressed my interest in learning more about the Ashlanders, Hassour asked me to be more specific. Remembering Caius' words about gifts, I asked the Dunmer to explain that custom. He seemed surprised by the question, but quickly described the nuances of the tradition. Gifts could be given as a sign of friendship, as a method of establishing a business relationship, or as an introduction. In all cases, the key to success was that the giver learn something about the recipient and offer a gift that showed thought and care. Feeling that he might say a bit more if I spoke respectfully, I asked Hassour to give an example. He noted that he himself enjoyed poetry, something that was not widely known. If a stranger made him a gift of a book of verse, that would demonstrate profound respect. Having answered my questions, he politely asked to be left to his reading. If I wanted to cultivate him as a source, I would clearly need to earn greater respect and trust. I wondered if Codus Callonus might have any volumes of poetry in his book shop. It would be worth speaking to him in any event- if Hassour was an avid reader and living in Ald'ruhn, the bookseller might very well know his tastes.

As always, the bookshop proved perilous to the state of my finances. Callonus did, in fact, know of Hassour and his reading tastes- he recommended three books of poetry- Words of the Wind, The Five Far Stars, and Ashland Hymns. In the end, I purchased all three, along with The Mirror and Special Flora of Tamriel for myself. It was with great difficulty that I put back Mystery of Talara, Part 5. But I preferred to collect complete sets- I would have to find the first four volumes. Deciding it would not do to appear pushy, I went to the Redoran Council Hall to make potions for a few hours. I had recently discovered that a mixture of Alit Hide and Bonemeal rendered a potion that endowed the user with the power of Telekinesis. That was very useful for someone in my line of work- being able to manipulate doors and chests from a distance could be quite helpful. After allowing what I considered sufficient time to pass for the sake of courtesy, I made my way back to the inn. My restraint proved well-founded; Hassour was clearly not happy to see me approaching. That changed when I offered him The Five Far Stars. It was a book he admired; he was quite happy to receive a copy. He was a very different person, now, animated and eloquent, talking of the history and traditions of his native Ashlanders. He invited me to sit and promised to tell me all he could of his people and the Nerevarine Cult. Because he took the written word seriously, Hassour had committed most of his observations to paper. He graciously gifted me with his notes and then explained their meaning in detail. He described the Ashlander customs of courtesy and challenges and warned me that a major part of the Nerevarine Cult's doctrine was a hatred of foreigners. In fact, he noted that most Ashlanders would gladly sacrifice their own lives if they believed doing so would drive out the "foreign devils." Finally, he described the Nerevarine Cult as a small, select group of Wise Women and Ashkhans, or chiefs. In fact, the leadership now rested with the Urshilaku, a single Ashlander tribe. For once, I was pleased with an assignment Caius had given me.

Hassour was a fascinating fellow, well-traveled, well-read, but still proud of his people and their history. We talked of many things, including his years as a trader. He explained that he had retired and turned the greater part of the business over to his son, Hannat. When he mentioned his son's name, I saw a shadow briefly cross his face. It came and went so quickly, it might have been my imagination. But my freedom and my life depended on my ability to read people's faces- to catch the slightest hesitation or the faintest shift of the eyes. Feeling that we had become something close to friends, I asked about his concern. Hassour attempted to turn it into a joke, saying that Hannat was probably just trying to worry him to death by not writing more often. But then he added that the younger Zainsubani was off exploring the uncharted ruins of Mamaea. He asked that if I should happen to meet Hannat, would I please remind him that his father wished to know that he was still in good health. I resolved to seek Hannat out at the earliest opportunity- it was little enough to do what I could to provide a loving father with peace of mind. Then it was time to report back to Caius. And peace of mind was something I, myself, would soon yearn for.

If you are ever inclined to take quiet pride in a job well-done, to think that you have just done an extraordinary bit of work- savor that moment, because it will not last long. The problem with doing something well is that people simply expect you to do even more. To put it another way, you should plan on getting used to hearing the words, "That's nice; but what have you done for me...lately." In many ways, my love of books has been as much a curse as a blessing. Because I read everything, I sometimes have trouble distinguishing fact from fiction. It is an unfortunate reality that many books that pretend to be "true" are nothing but fantasy or, even worse, pernicious lies. On the other hand, one can sometimes learn great truths from the works that are usually dismissed as "stories." The key is to develop an ability to tell the difference. Usually that ability comes with age and experience- two attributes I had not yet attained in any great measure. To my young eyes, all written words were magical and possible and plausible. In my innocence, I could not understand why anyone would take the time to write something that wasn't true. So it was that I had some mistaken ideas about how the world worked, about romance, and about history. But there were other dangers involved in my love of books, as well. One problem was that I could not safely walk into a book-seller's establishment with any money in my pocket. The sight of the words on paper, the smell of the pages, the very feel of the bindings- I would soon be penniless. When I returned to Caius after my long conversation with Hassour, I discovered another danger- it does not pay to let your mind wander when dealing with the Empire.

The spymaster appreciated the thoroughness of my report, but seemed even more preoccupied than usual. He told me to keep the notes from Hassour, because he was sending me to the Urshilaku Ashlander's camp. He wanted me to meet with Sul-Matuul, the ashkhan and Nibani Maesa, the wise-woman. But first, he had decided that it was time to "tell me what this was all about." And what he had to say was more stunning than a kick from a draft-horse. The Emperor and his advisors had somehow decided that I potentially fulfilled the conditions of the Nerevarine Prophecies. They had determined my exact birth date and noted my uncertain parentage. Apparently, there were other signs and portents, as well. And that was why I had been pulled out of my nice, safe prison cell and sent to Morrowind- it was the next step in satisfying the prophecy. Just to make sure I didn't think this was all a skooma-dream, Caius gave me the decoded version of the package I had delivered to him so many weeks ago. He admitted that he had been skeptical at first, assuming that this was just a plot to further Imperial control of a troublesome province. Now, he wasn't so sure; his study of the Nerevarine Cult and the prophecies had convinced him that there was more than superstition at work. He then told me to go see the Urshilaku and have them test me against the prophecy. The Blades had set up some supplies for me at Fort Moonmoth; I should stop in and collect them before going too deep into the Ashlands. All I could think was that this was a joke, a monumental mistake of some kind, but Caius wasn't laughing. His final words on the subject shook me to my core- "..the Emperor and his advisers seem to think that this prophecy is genuine...and we're going to take it seriously, aren't we, Trey?"