The Story of Trey- Chapter 9 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 9

My resistance to the Nerevarine prophecies may seem incomprehensible to some, but they should try to remember my background. First, I had never been terribly religious. The gods were these vague figures of power to whom priests and crazy people talked. The best hope for someone like me was to avoid their notice- the gods, but also the priests and crazy people. Then, too, it always seemed to me that whenever someone started talking about what the "great god or goddess" wanted, it was just coincidentally something the speaker wanted, as well. So obviously I had my doubts about religion and prophecy in general. And then there was me. The circumstances of my conception and birth, I have already described- there was nothing auspicious or special about it. Throughout the years of my childhood, until the night I left High Rock, my worth was defined only by how much work my "guardians" could get out of me. Every drink I took, every scrap of food I ate, the very space in which I slept- all was given grudgingly and, like as not, with a blow and a curse. Therefore, to be told that I was "important to the Empire" and possibly the reincarnation of some long-dead Dunmer hero, struck me as a particularly weak joke. Heroes were born in manor houses and castles, trained in philosophy and the arts, raised as an integral part of society. The only philosophy I had ever known was "don't get caught." And my “place in society” was in a stable at the end of a shovel. So ever since Caius had revealed the contents the package I had delivered, I had done my best to ridicule, deny, and ignore the implications. Added to my incredulity that anyone could mistake me for a dead dark elf was my innate resistance to anything that the Empire wanted. Finally, I despised feeling as though I was being manipulated- whether by guilds, governments, or gods. What I desired most strongly was to be my own man, neither owned by nor owing anyone. At the moment, that goal seemed as attainable as one of the moons.

As for the prophecies, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the events that seemed to swirl around me like the sparks from a fire. Too much had happened that could not be easily explained away. First, whatever I might wish, I could not really believe that the Emperor was simply delusional. His reasons might be incomprehensible to me, but he certainly believed in this strongly enough to devote considerable effort to it. Then there was the voice that had spoken to me in my fever-dream on the ship and again in Tel Fyr. And the dreams of the gold-masked figure who seemed to be trying to persuade me and yet filled me with dread. And what of Caius? Skooma addict he might be, but he wouldn't spend so much time on cobwebs and moonbeams, even if the Emperor told him to. Caius believed, and that was a very disturbing thought. He was perhaps the smartest man I had ever met. Not in the same way that Divayth Fyr or the other Telvanni wizards were smart, with their encyclopedic knowledge of magic and other arcana. Caius' intelligence was of a sort that I understood and respected even more- the intelligence of a man who had spent many years surviving on his wits, his courage, and his ability to separate fact from nonsense. When you live by your wits, almost every test is a final exam and the price of failure is death. That Caius was still alive was all the proof I needed of his intellect. But it still might be possible for me to reason with him, to find some way to convince him that everyone was mistaken. With that in mind, I read over the material I had gathered regarding the Nerevarine prophecies. As much as I was seeking greater understanding I was also seeking a flaw, a way out, an exception that would set me free.

What I found was that my notes on the prophecies were as murky as ever. It seemed to me that anyone could use the words to prove or disprove just about anything. And that was the problem with prophecy. My only option now was to go back to Caius and give him the happy news that I wasn't dead yet. No doubt he would have some new plan for me to go and stick my head in a dragon's mouth. Well, I had always wanted to see a dragon, anyway, so it wouldn't be a total loss. As I approached Caius' small house in Balmora, I believed that I was completely prepared for whatever insanely dangerous task he would set before me. I was sure that nothing he said could surprise me. Which goes to show just how little I knew. When I knocked and entered, I found the house in even greater disarray than usual. Chests and drawers had been flung open, and clothing was piled even more deeply on the floor and bed than before. In the midst of the chaos stood the spymaster, and, for the first time in my experience, he looked shaken. Attempting to lighten the mood, I asked him if a whirlwind had been through his place. With a shrug he explained that he had been packing and then looked closely at me. When he saw that there was no trace of disease to be found, he smiled a weary smile and said, "Trey, I'm very happy you've been cured. Unfortunately, I've had a bit of bad news. I've been recalled to the Imperial City. You'll be promoted to Operative and will head the Blades here in Vvardenfell until I return. I only waited to give you your final orders before I go."

My usual ready wit failed me- Caius gone? Recalled to the Imperial City? And what was this about me being the head of the Blades in Vvardenfell? So many questions clamored for answers at once that none of them could get out. I just stood silently and looked at the man who had seen me through so much. My mind could not encompass the idea that he wouldn't be there to give me directions, even if they usually were accompanied by a verbal kick in the rear. As I gaped like a fish out of water, he continued to sort through his possessions and to talk as if I was capable of understanding,

"...you'll have some expenses. Here's some gold. And you can use the house until I return. And I won't be needing these blacks or the ring in the Imperial City."

He punctuated this commentary by handing me 750 drakes, a set of enchanted clothing, and an enchanted ring. Somehow, his actions struck me as being those of a man making the final disposition of his estate. Whatever he might say, Caius did not believe that he was coming back.

Trying to get to the truth without just blurting it out, I asked about the recall order. The spymaster confirmed the rumors that the Emperor was dying and that the succession was in a mess. Various factions were struggling for power and he was too important a resource to be left out of reach. He tried to shrug it off as "internal politics... a result of my sugar problem," but even he knew it didn't ring true. Finally, he admitted that he had considered ignoring the order, but couldn't because "they" had members of his family in the capital. For me, to whom a family had until recently been just a distant dream, that was the hardest blow of all. To use a man's family as a lever- that showed me once again that my hatred of the Empire was not misplaced, at all. Caius remained thoroughly professional though, and asked me if I was ready to receive my orders. When I nodded, he told me to continue to pursue the prophecies. The next step would be to enlist the aid of Mehra Milo in Vivec and find the lost prophecies. Once I had those, I needed to go back to the Urshilaku wise woman and follow her guidance. His final advice was that I should "forget the Imperial City," and concentrate on the local issues of the Great House wars and Dagoth Ur. He clasped my hand, looked hard into my eyes, and was gone.

[treydog]

It had been a very long time since I had cried. During my childhood, tears had been one more luxury I couldn't afford. And besides, I wouldn't give my tormentors the satisfaction. As I sat there on Caius' bed, staring at the empty room, I realized he had taught me one final lesson- people who hate you can make you bleed, can even kill you- but it takes someone who loves you to make you cry. I thought of the way I had resented and avoided Caius after I was cured of corprus and how he had waited to see me before he responded to the recall order. Guiltily, I wondered if my self-absorption had made things harder for him. I clutched the shirt he had given me and I sat on his bed and I howled like an infant. I raged against the unfairness of the Empire that would use someone they way they had used Caius, and against the unfairness of a world that had made me an orphan twice over. I cried for Caius and for his family, held hostage back in the Imperial City. I cried for myself and I cried for my poor mother who I never knew. And then, it was done. Caius had waited for me, not just to make sure I was safe, but also to give me one last order: Finish the mission. The Emperor might die and the Empire might crumble into dust, but my job, my destiny, was here in Vvardenfell. If I gave up now, it would make all of Caius' work and sacrifice meaningless. I didn't know what Caius thought he saw in me, but I vowed that I would not let him down.

He had told me to locate Mehra Milo in the Vivec Library, where she should have more information on the lost prophecies. It wouldn't do to just rush in without thought- even during my first visit; she had felt that the Ordinators were watching her. She had known too many of the Dissident Priests and the Temple tended to deal harshly with dissent. Better to walk carefully and watch my back- I couldn't do anyone any good from a prison cell. And I had a feeling that no one was going to rescue me if I got myself locked up. The first thing I did was convert some of the odds and ends I had accumulated into cash. After that, I went to the Balmora Mages Guild and worked with the spellmaker to construct the best Chameleon spell I could reliably cast. I had a feeling that this next mission was going to require every bit of stealth I could muster. Although a part of me wanted to push forward, I knew that the shock of Caius' departure had taken a toll on me. With that in mind, I took the time to sleep for a few hours in my old bunk in the Mages Guild. When I awoke, I had the guild guide send me to Vivec.

Once I got to the Hall of Wisdom, I was careful not to inquire about Mehra Milo. If she were in the library, all would be well. If not, the last thing I needed was to draw too much attention to myself. When I reached the library, she was not in her accustomed place. The next step was to look in her quarters, just down the hall from the library. The door was secured with a simple lock, which proved to be no barrier to my entry. She was not there, either; however, I did find a note on the dresser, addressed to "Amaya." That was the code-word she planned to use if she felt that she was in danger of arrest. So it appeared that the worst had happened. The note was filled with enough references to let me know what had happened and to provide some guidance. She mentioned running an errand for the Inquisitor in the Ministry of Truth- that had to be where she was being held. The note also asked me to bring along the Divine Intervention scrolls I had "borrowed"- clearly the means she planned to use to escape. Finally, she mentioned the name of a guard- Alvela Saram- who would let me in. There was only one way to proceed now. Caius was gone and I was on my own. Without the lost prophecies, Nibani Maesa could not help me; without Mehra, I could not find the Dissident Priests, who had the lost prophecies. I was going to have to break her out of the Ministry of Truth- a great chunk of rock magically suspended over the Temple of Vivec and filled with Ordinators and Inquisitors. I was glad I had gotten a good night's sleep.

My adventures had begun when I broke out of jail- now I was proposing to break into a prison. Even with the assistance of Mehra's friend, this would not be easy. I would have to be careful once I was inside the Ministry of Truth- if any of the Ordinators saw me, there would be no talking my way out of it. In spite of the serious nature of my task, I have to admit that the thrill of the challenge was intoxicating. As I floated toward the Ministry, my blood sang with the joy of doing the impossible. It was for this that I was born, for this that I had become a thief. The loot had just been a way of keeping score- it was the game that mattered. Alvela was posted outside one of the doors- she started to turn me away, but then asked if I had come to visit someone. When I mentioned Mehra, the guard not only gave me her key, but advice on how best to proceed. She also noted that some of the Ordinators sympathized with the dissident priests, but that only went so far. If I killed an Ordinator- they would not hesitate to try to cut me down. Somehow, I didn't think a bloodbath in the Ministry of Truth would serve anyone's purposes, least of all mine. Following Alvela's advice, I made my way to the upper entrance, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. Before leaving Balmora, I had donned the black clothing Caius had given me. Not only would the enchantments be useful, it simply felt right.

The interior of the Ministry was a maze of rough-hewn tunnels, curving around and diving up and down inclines with no apparent pattern. I spent several of the tensest minutes of my life dodging Ordinators and seeking the entrance to the Prison Keep. Finally, at the end of a corridor, I found the right door. I could hear an Ordinator approaching down one of the cross-passages, but I didn't know what I would find on the other side of the door. Finally, I cast my Chameleon spell, picked the lock, and ducked through the door. I found myself on a sort of balcony looking out over a large cavern with a high ceiling. Other balconies were scattered about and the place was full of Ordinators and Temple functionaries. On the opposite side from where I crouched, I spotted three cell doors. Mehra was supposed to be in the one on the far right. Praying that my information was accurate, I recast the Chameleon spell and downed a Levitation potion. Then I pushed off from the wall and silently floated over the heads of the Ordinators to the cells.

It may seem odd to some that I chose such a strange method of crossing that chamber, but I had my reasons. First, it has been my experience that very few people look up, particularly when they are indoors. Second, my Chameleon spell was not 100 percent and had a short duration. If I had to make my way down the various balconies and stairs, it would take some time and I would have to pass close by a great many people. Finally, by levitating, I avoided the chance of a wrongly placed foot or the clink of my gear giving me away. Overhead, I was silent, nearly invisible, and able to cross the chamber much faster. Hoping that my memory and Alvela's information were correct, I landed in the shadows near the right-hand cell. It was the work of a few seconds to pick the lock, after which I waited for a chance to open the door just enough for me to slip inside. All was well, for I was greeted by the sight of Mehra Milo pacing back and forth in agitation. Although she seemed somewhat disheveled, she had not yet been subjected to questioning by the Inquisitors. As soon as she saw who I was, Mehra rushed up and embraced me, then said, "I have a plan for getting you the lost prophecies, but we have to get out of here first. Did you bring a Divine Intervention scroll?"

When I admitted that I had several, she explained that the easiest way to escape was by Divine Intervention, which would bring us to the Imperial Cult shrine in Ebonheart. She suggested that we travel separately to lower the risk of being recognized and instructed me on how to find her once I had reached Ebonheart. I was to go to the east docks and seek out a ship's captain named Blatta Hateria and tell her that I wanted to "go fishing," at which point she would transport me to the dissident priests' hidden monastery at Holamayan. The entrance to the monastery itself was magically hidden- a monk on the island would give me instructions on how to get inside. The place was apparently dedicated to the goddess Azura and the door only opened at dawn and dusk- the times of day most sacred to her. Having hurriedly passed on those instructions, Mehra read one of the Intervention scrolls and disappeared.