Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 7 Options

[treydog]

As I felt the cool kiss of the marble floor against my forehead, my first thought was,

“That didn’t go very well.”

That was immediately followed by curiosity that I was still able to have any thoughts at all, considering that my head was separated from my body. As an experiment, I decided I would try to open my eyes. There was a certain savage glee in the thought of how much horror the sight would inflict on Helseth and his guards. Maybe I would even cross my eyes and stick out my tongue…. To my disappointment, Tienius Delitian looked somewhat concerned, but hardly horrified. Still more puzzling, he spoke to me, saying,

“Trey? Are you all right?”

I wondered if I had stumbled onto a secret cult of necromancers, people to whom speaking with the dead was an everyday occurrence. Finally, as I felt firm hands gripping my shoulders and raising me to a sitting position, I realized that I wasn’t dead after all. At least, not yet. The captain’s next words were reassuring,

“Probably got into some bad air beneath the Plaza. Give him some room and he’ll come around.”

Slowly, I pieced together what must have happened. The sight of Helseth had pushed my already strained nerves past the breaking point and I had fainted.

Of all the possible outcomes I had imagined for my first meeting with the king, collapsing in a heap had not been one of them. But at least that embarrassing lapse had saved me from the monumental stupidity of attacking him while he was surrounded by his guards. I had no doubt that my—vision? –dream? –hallucination? had been accurate. Whether it was a warning from my own wiser self or from some outside power I could not say. But I did know that a suicidal berserker charge against impossible odds was not the way I did things. If I was going to exact my vengeance, I would do so by using my strengths. As my head cleared, I was able to pay more attention to Tienius Delitian, who was saying,

“…sorry to hear that you reported to the Temple, but that isn’t important now. The king wishes to speak to you.”

So it was that I finally stood face-to-face with King Helseth, with no weapon in my hands and the fires of my fury banked- for the moment. When I did not bend my knee to him, the king arched an eyebrow, but made no comment. Growing tired of the silent staring contest, I prompted him:

“You wished to see me?”

I had reined in my anger, but that did not mean that I liked him, and I had no interest in pretending otherwise. He responded in the sort of cool, languid drawl that some of the upper class affected,

“Ah...so you're the one Tienius has been telling us about. You should have brought the information about these ‘fabricants’ to us directly. Still, you may be of use. We understand you had a slight inconvenience earlier. It appears we were given a bit of misinformation. The Queen Mother has spoken highly of you as well.”

Apparently, Tienius Delitian was not the only one in the court who enjoyed baiting people. It was hard to decide which I found more annoying- Helseth’s use of the plural pronoun to refer to himself or his dismissal of the attempt to have me killed as a “slight inconvenience.” I entertained myself by imagining that his royal “we” was actually a reflection of the fact that he was afflicted with a tapeworm, as well as considering all the “slight inconveniences” I would like to visit upon him. Ultimately, what allowed me to ignore his taunts was the realization that he was underestimating me. My fainting spell had combined with his natural arrogance so that he felt that I was no threat- or at least not a serious threat. Therefore, it was easy for me to give him a toothy, insincere smile in return for his haughty smirk, even as I murmured,

“…slight inconvenience?”

After all, why not give him sufficient rope with which to hang himself? He answered in a disinterested tone, as if remarking on the weather,

“We understand you were visited by some Dark Brotherhood assassins. A regrettable occurrence. They are a difficult lot, but they do have their usefulness. I'm certain that will no longer be a problem for you.”

My first impulse was to point out that all of the assassins who had come against me were dead and I was still standing- that, in fact, the attacks had been no more than an annoyance. But wisdom again prevailed as I reminded myself that I wanted Helseth to miscalculate. Let him believe that only luck had kept me alive so far; he would find out differently when I was ready. Hard experience had taught me that keeping my mouth shut rarely caused problems, whereas the opposite had landed me in hot water on innumerable occasions. Therefore, I simply maintained my bland smile and waited for Helseth to continue. He struck me as the sort of person who did not like silence; more, he seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice. Sure enough, just as the lull in the conversation was about to become uncomfortable, he added,

“Yes, the Dark Brotherhood are usually a very effective group. Not always, though, I have recently learned. As to your particular situation, ...we have various sources throughout Vvardenfell that are paid well to provide us with information. Unfortunately, sometimes it proves to be incorrect. One of our informants had suggested that you could pose a threat to our monarchy. That cannot be allowed, as I'm sure you understand.”

When I heard that nonsensical justification, I very nearly betrayed my resolution to pretend ignorant disinterest. How could anyone seriously believe that a stable boy imprisoned for picking flowers could be a threat to a king? It appeared that everyone in Mournhold was insane, not just Almalexia. Struggling to keep a serious expression, I piously intoned,

“I find it hard to imagine why anyone would want to attack the rightful monarch.”

The irony, of course, went right past Helseth, and he pensively remarked,

“It is never easy for one to assume the throne, especially after the unfortunate set of circumstances that led to our beloved King Llethan's death. There are those who would seek to profit from such events, to take the opportunity to create unrest among the people. There are those, even, who would wish to see us dead.”

Widening my eyes as if such an idea had never occurred to me, I responded with a breathless,

“Really? How awful!”

Again, the king completely missed the sarcasm and responded seriously,

“Does this surprise you? Even now, there are those that would see our head on a pike. What better way to achieve one's goals than to have others remove those that would oppose you? Surely you have some understanding of this? In fact, we have recently been told of a plot against the throne. Some of my informants have learned of a possible assassination plot against our royal person. I would like more information on this. However, I do not want to compromise the safety of my guards or of my informant. I believe, however, you would be suitable for this matter.”

Finally, we were getting somewhere. Besides being a murderous little scut, Helseth had to be the most long-winded son-of-a-guar I had ever had to endure. Hoping to move him along, I asked,

“How may I serve?”

Reluctantly, the king at last made his request:

“I wish for you to meet an informant of mine at a local cornerclub, The Winged Guar. You'll find it in Godsreach. He's an orc, and shouldn't be hard to pick out. Find him, and ask him about his ‘uncle's farm.’ He'll know what it means. Then report back to me with your information.”

I nodded my understanding and agreement and left the Throne Room. All that secrecy and “protect my informant” babble made sense- if you were six years old and had the brains of a mudcrab. After all, someone plotting against the king would never think of posting lookouts to see who came and went from the Palace. And those lookouts would never think to follow a person who had just left the royal presence and see who said person met with. I knew that this was some kind of trick- what I could not decide was whether Helseth really believed I was stupid enough to fall for it.

My apologies for the sneaky cliff-hanger at the end of the last chapter- just couldn't resist. I have had that 'fantasy fight scene' floating around in my notebook for a month or two and finally got to the place where I could use it....

[treydog]

Before I rushed off to meet an Orc I had never seen before, I decided to talk to someone who might provide some insight into Helseth’s methods. Barenziah’s recommendation had made Plitinius Mero far friendlier, and he greeted me with his usual distracted air- I was beginning wonder how he ever got any writing done when all he seemed to do was pace about the courtyard. When I explained my latest task, the Imperial writer looked simultaneously confused and concerned, with neither expression boosting my confidence to any great degree. Resuming his pacing, he spoke thoughtfully:

“Heleseth has told you of a plot against his throne? Odd. He's well protected, you know. I would suggest meeting his informant and seeing what he has to say. If you have any further questions, please come and speak with me. If the Queen Mother has sent you to me, she must feel you are worthy. Good luck to you.”

That answer was interesting, although not terribly enlightening. It added to my doubts as to why the king would want someone he had tried to have murdered investigating a supposed plot against the throne. The only way to get any answers would be to meet with the mysterious informant and see what developed. I honestly didn’t expect trouble- it seemed more likely the code phrase would be used to mark me and the Orc would alert someone else to make a move in the street. Still, I doubted that Helseth was aware that I would be among friends in the Winged Guar. While they would never defy the king openly, I felt confident that they would not let anything happen to me inside the tavern, either. Just to make sure, when I entered the bar area, I stopped to speak with Ra’Tesh. Quietly placing a 50-drake piece on the counter, I asked,

“Seen any strangers lately?”

The Khajiit made the coin disappear and placed a glass of comberry juice in front of me. He was aware that I had decided to avoid alcohol after my last episode. As he gave me the drink, Ra’Tesh nodded toward an Orc who was seated at one of the tables.

“Came in a while ago. Hasn’t spoken to anyone except to order a meal and a drink. Quiet for an Orc- and he’s been working on the same drink for the last hour.”

I thanked my friend and carried my drink to the Orc’s table.

“Mind if I sit down?”

He grunted a barely polite acknowledgement and said, “Chair’s free- sit if you like. Makes no difference to me,” before turning his attention back to his food.

Waiting until no one else was in the vicinity, I said,

“So how are things on your uncle’s farm? Have you been there lately?”

His only reaction was a slight pause in his mechanical chewing, then he swallowed and replied coolly,
“I don't have an uncle...and I don't know you. Better not talk to you about that.”

That was the last answer I had expected. I took a quick glance around the tavern to make sure I didn’t have the wrong Orc. Since he was the only one in the room, it wasn’t that. I studied him closely- he had the air of relaxed watchfulness that I would expect from an agent of the king- he had to be the informant. If he was angling for a bribe, he was going to be disappointed; I figured the king had already paid him. I started to stand and said quietly,

“Sorry about that, friend. I’ll just trot on back to Helseth and tell him that you don’t know what I’m talking about, right? I’m sure he will be pleased no end to hear that. Enjoy your meal.”

Before I had gotten all the way out of my chair, he dropped his fork and whispered,

“Hey, settle down! I just had to make sure, all right? I get it. Code words. Whatever. My name’s Bakh. Here's what you should know. Our king is a paranoid. I know, I know...it's treason to even think that sort of stuff, but it's true. He always thinks someone is out to get him. The man's had me checking into a different conspiracy every week for the last month. I keep telling him, ‘You're king. You're gonna have enemies!’ Does he listen? Psssh. This time, though, there might be something to it. I've found some disturbing information.”

This character was almost as bad as Helseth when it came to dragging things out. He must have made a habit of secrecy for so long that he didn’t even know how to tell things straight any longer. When I said, “Disturbing? How?” he looked around and lowered his voice even further, then said,

“My sources tell me that there's a plot, but not against the king. From what I've been able to gather, there will be an attempt made on the Queen Mother's life. I'm not sure who would want to target her--from what I know, she has no enemies in Mournhold--but that's what my sources are telling me.”

I nearly sprayed him with berry juice in my surprise. A plot against the Queen Mother? That had to be the dumbest thing I had ever heard! Besides the fact that everybody loved her, Barenziah was a very dangerous person. Anyone foolish enough to attack her would get a very brief lesson in how she had managed to stay alive for so long. Of course, the attacker wouldn’t survive to benefit from that knowledge….

Regaining my composure, I thanked Bakh for his time and promised to take appropriate measures. Before bringing this crazy story to Helseth, I again decided to consult with Plitinius. He was the most likely to be aware if Barenziah had any enemies- and I believed he would tell me. The author’s reaction was as incredulous as mine. He looked shocked and sputtered,

“A plot against Barenziah? That's ridiculous! I can't think of anyone who would want to harm her.”

But then he frowned and placed a warning hand on my shoulder before continuing,

“Take care with this, Trey. King Helseth is a wary one, and delights in testing the loyalty of his new friends. I do not believe the King would hesitate to put his own mother in danger in order to do so.”

Whatever else was going on, I quickly realized that I was not cut out for this intrigue stuff. I was a straightforward fellow, even if my methods weren’t always strictly legal. If all this was for was to make me look like an idiot, what was the point? I couldn’t divine any reason that Helseth would send me on this fool’s errand, only to laugh me out of the throne room…. There had to be some deeper plot afoot here, one that I could not see. Of one thing I was certain- the Queen Mother was not the target. No, that privilege was all mine.