Killing in the Emperor's Name, A collection: An argonian assassin's world Options

[canis216]

Here you, the reader, will find works associated with Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun's life and work all together. His future stories will be found here, primarily. I think it's appropriate, as his tales have taken on a more serialized form--if not strictly so. I still intend to experiment with different perspectives and styles within his general narrative, so don't expect every installment to flow perfectly into the next--that isn't what I'm going for. I'd like to think that I'm using Always-He-Lingers-in-the-Sun's stories as a medium--evocation of the rough existence that is life on Vvardenfell.

[canis216]

Short update. It's a busy weekend.

Shady Characters

“You, and the rest of Shadowscales!” I raged over the cowering pawnbroker, Ten-Tongues.

“I was following orders! We all were!” he hissed out between his hands. “I have nothing to do with it anymore!”

“Liar! Always a liar! Why are you here? Why are you in Morrowind? Did you send you to find me?” I raised Kills-You-Dead, ready to strike.

“No! They kicked me out when—when—“

“When you couldn’t run me down and kill me.”

“That’s over now, Heik-Auri. Look at me… I sell cheap trinkets, scrolls, curiosities! I can’t even cast a decent chameleon spell anymore!”

I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard that last. “Hah! So you’ve finally learned that magick is fickle, eh? Ha-hah!”

Ten-Tongues finally lowered his hands. “Have a good laugh, will ya? Well, at least I’m out of that dirty business. I never wanted to be an assassin, anyway. Just because I was born under the Shadow… but from the looks of you, I’d say you’re still deep in it. You—you still carry Kills-You-Dead. Damn, and Sneaks-in-Shadows always said it wouldn’t stay long with someone unworthy—“

“He was the unworthy one. I don’t regret his death.” I looked at the blades in my hand. This was ridiculous—he wasn’t even armed, Ten-Tongues. “Alright, get up.”

“You’re—you’re not angry anymore?”

“No, I’m still angry. But I’ve got more important business than settling old scores. Like settling new scores.”

“New scores? Heik-Auri, you may be good with a blade, but someday you’re going to need to learn to stop making enemies.”

“Shut up. You know nothing of my business, these days. What you do know, as you say, is the acquisition of odd goods. And I need a somewhat uncommon item.”

“Ah, now we are speaking on my terms. What do you need? How can I atone for the wrongs of the past, marshbrother?”

I held up my crossbow. “I need viper-bolts. A lot of them.”

“Viper-bolts? Sounds unpleasant… I don’t carry them—but I can get them for you, I think. It might be a couple days.”

My face fell, I think. And I was disappointed. “A couple days? Damn… alright, I’ll have to lay low a few days, but we can make a deal.”

Ten-Tongues started to make a note in his ledger, and asked almost as an aside, “Where will you be staying? I can alert you when the bolts have arrived.”

“No need for that. I’ll stop by in a couple days, check on your progress.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“You did try to kill me once.”

He made a face as if to protest, but I turned abruptly and stepped out the door, into the cool dewy evening.

---------------------------------------------

Later I lay on my bed in The Winged Guar staring up at the ceiling. I had spoken once more to Ra’Tesh—still no sign of Sethyas Velas. I was having very little luck. He had mentioned something about Velas Manor, the abode of one of the wizards killed by the new Grandmaster of the Morag Tong. Perhaps I would investigate it, come morning. He may have left some sort of sign—beyond a dead wizard, I hoped.

I thought also of Ten-Tongues. He had earned his name for a reason—he went beyond having a forked tongue. What if he were still connected to the Shadowscales? He himself was a pathetic pawnbroker—I could kill him anytime I chose; if the need arose. But what if—what if he knew others still in the business? Pawnbrokers know all sorts of shady characters.

People like me.