Sleeper in the Cave, a Morrowind fanfic Options

[Grits]

Well, I had Ajira, but I figured she was worth several.

Awww.

Yikes, this bit of backstory was alarming. I loved this update, and I am so pleased to read more of Adryn’s story!

[Kazaera]

@haute ecole rider - Thank you! Adryn's humour is really what makes this story, so I'm glad you're finding it still at full strength.

@Grits - yes, there's a reason Adryn tries not to think about her past. I try to make up for those parts of it with Adryn and Ajira being cute.

Last installment, Adryn and co. reached Ald'ruhn, only to find that Varvur wasn't allowed to enter the city. It seemed that Varvur's tale of being accused of the murder of his best friend, and in fact likely magically compelled into it, was tragically familiar to Adryn and so she volunteered to help him out. Last we saw of the two, they were on the road to Balmora.

Chapter 9.3
*****

The caravan master studied both of us critically.

"Travellers, you say? To Balmora? Hm. Hmm." He rubbed one of his tusks.

"We'd really appreciate it if we could travel with you that far." I smiled to underscore our image of harmless wanderers.

The whole thing was Varvur's fault.

First, he'd nixed my suggestion of heading to Caldera and taking the guild guide from there, explaining that it was more likely guards in an Imperial town were on the look-out for him than Hlaalu ones. Since he was a noble who'd lapped up politics with his mother's milk (in the fleeting moments of spare time he had when he wasn't busy being dropped on his head, no doubt) and I'd been in Morrowind for all of a week, I'd given way to his greater experience on the subject. Grudgingly.

Then he'd suggested banding together with any other travellers we found. I'd argued that this was not precisely a clever way for a wanted fugitive to behave. I'd been quite proud of that argument, thank you. It had been painstakingly assembled, custom-made for exactly this situation and no other, every word of it crafted with care. Alas, it had met utter, merciless defeat at the hands of Varvur's counter-argument - which, to add insult to injury, was crude, hastily thrown together with no craftsmanship or artistic feeling at all. It consisted of only two words: the wildlife.

Frankly, I could have done without the demonstration. We'd spent what felt like hours hiding in the mouth of a cave waiting for the reptilian flying things that seemed to consist entirely of sharp beak and ear-piercing screech to give up and leave. Varvur had called them 'cliff racers', a name I quite understood seeing as I'd rather race off a cliff than face them again. Varvur had also explained that they were usually harmless scavengers (I found this statement rather hard to believe), but sometimes banded together in flocks to take down live prey if times were lean. Apparently they weren't particularly discerning when it came to the size of said prey.

At any rate, the whole thing meant that when we crested a saddle between two hills to see a train of wagons drawn by funny-looking two-legged reptiles Varvur called 'guar', I only put up token resistance when Varvur insisted on going down to see if they'd let us tag along.

"I'm... Tadril Saren," Varvur was saying now.

I tried not to react with obvious surprise and mentally vowed that the next chance I got, I would have a long discussion with Varvur about letting your compatriots in on your false name ahead of time. "Adryn," I offered.

The caravan master gave us a skeptical look. I hoped it was just the usual 'what, a Dunmer without a family name?' look instead of having noticed something off about 'Tadril''s introduction. "Greetings," he finally offered. "Shazgob gro-Luzgan. Out of Ebonheart."

"Well met," I responded. Gro-Luzgan didn't respond, but his expression made me suspect he wasn't ready to commit to the well part of that just yet. "Would you be willing to take us on? We can work to help the caravan." I probably also had enough money to buy passage, but would rather keep that as a last resort - I was getting quite worried about my lack of income. "I can-"

I was about to say something like 'lift boxes... small ones', except that Varvur decided this was the perfect time for a little revenge.

"Oh," he interrupted, "she's quite the mage. You wouldn't believe what she can do with a Mysticism spell."

His innocent expression was ruined by the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I bit the inside of my cheek and considered my options for retribution.

"Well," I said, keeping my tone sweet, "he'll tell you himself he's capable of taking down a rampaging barbarian, unarmed. And that axe there is a family heirloom." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Varvur shoot me a glare. I ignored it.

Gro-Luzgan was not looking much more confident in us, but we must have convinced him of something because he gave a nod. "All right. If that's so, you can come along. Now. I don't know or care about whatever it is you might be running from," I tried not to cringe too obviously, "but if you cause any trouble for anyone here, you're out. And just so you know..."

His voice grew cold. "If you're here thinking you can lure us into an ambush... I'd think again, I really would. We've tangled with bandits before. Since I'm the one standing here I think you can guess who won."

"I'd never!" Varvur protested, shocked. "Such a dishonourable betrayal would be unworthy of-"

I stepped on his foot. I suspected the end of that sentence ran along the lines of a true son of House Redoran, which would draw exactly the attention we were trying to avoid. "What he means is, we're honest folk," I said. My fixed smile was starting to make my cheeks hurt. "Wouldn't dream of betraying you like that."

Gro-Luzgan eyed us dubiously. "I guess we'll see about that. Now, our schedule has us in Balmora tomorrow evening. We'll be camping near Caldera tonight. I can lend you a bedroll and a tent if you'd like to share-"

Wait, did he think we-

Varvur and I stared at each other. Judging by the abject horror in his gaze, we were in perfect agreement for the first time since we'd met.

"No!"

"...right." Gro-Luzgan's eyebrows seemed to be making a bid for freedom. "In that case, I can lend you two bedrolls, and the lady can bunk down with Gelduin - one of our scouts. If you're so slick with Mysticism," I heaped a thousand curses on Varvur, "you can help her out during the day. We could use someone who knows their way around a detection spell, can keep an eye out for cliff racer flocks, nix-hound packs, kagouti in heat - the usual. And bandits, of course." The glance he gave us made me think he wasn't quite convinced we weren't part of that last group.

My knees grew weak with relief. I happened to be quite proud of my detection spells, thank you. "I can do that," I told him, and ignored Varvur's dubious glance with the grace and aplomb of someone perfectly secure in her skills, thank you very much.

"We'll see," was gro-Luzgan's only comment. "Gelduin's over there," he nodded in the direction of a leather-clad Bosmer sitting on the back of a wagon inspecting arrows. "Go tell her I sent you, she'll put you to work."

As I left, I heard him mutter, "I guess if worst comes to worst, they can provide for evening entertainment."

*****

Next

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Apr 5 2015, 04:31 PM

[Grits]

The whole thing was Varvur's fault.

Of course! Fun to see Adryn and Varvur taking shots at each other. I’m interested to meet Gelduin. It sounds as if Adryn will have a variety of critters to watch out for on the way to Balmora.

[Kazaera]

@Grits - In an odd way, Varvur and Adryn's complete and utter inability to get along even in the most ludicrous situations may have made gro-Luzgan trust them more! They were pretty suspicious, but it's hard to suspect two people who are continually undermining each other of any sort of cunning, well-thought-out plan. And yep, Adryn vs Morrowind wildlife round 2, oh dear...

Last installment, Varvur and Adryn joined a caravan they ran across on their trek to Balmora. The caravan master was rather bemused by both their appearance and their tendency to continually snipe at one another. They volunteered to work to pay their passage, and Adryn was asked to go scouting with her Detection spells with a Bosmer called Gelduin. Let's see how that goes...

Chapter 9.4
*****

Gelduin was decidedly unimpressed to be saddled with me if her grumbling about 'rank amateurs' was anything to go by. Other bits of grumbling made me suspect that this little excursion was less about how to best utilise my magical abilities and more about keeping me firmly under the nose of someone gro-Luzgan trusted. I wasn't offended - I'd probably have been careful in his position, too.

She did thaw visibly when I demonstrated that I did, in fact, know how to move silently and take cover, even if I wasn't used to doing so in wilderness. It reached the point where she didn't even yell at me after having to yank me away to prevent me from standing upwind from a kagouti.

"Sorry," I apologised after Gelduin used her native Bosmer magic to lure it away. "I'm not used to trying to avoid animals that can pick up on your scent."

Gelduin looked at me for a moment, then nodded, as though I'd just confirmed a suspicion of hers. "I see. My guess is you do a bit more avoiding animals that are clad in armour and call themselves 'guards'?"

"Um-" I kicked myself for being obvious.

"No worries," Gelduin said. "I've done a bit of that myself, back in the day. Left it all behind when I came to Vvardenfell, oh... is it already thirty years ago? Enough opportunities to earn my money in other ways here. But I grew up in Imperial City, the Waterfront. Only a few ways of making your living there, and I never did care for lying on my back and letting men paw at me."

I relaxed. Not only was she not outraged by my criminal past, but it sounded as if she was unlikely to have any current Guild contacts.

"That sounds familiar," I said. "I'm not from Imperial City, but I had... similar experiences. I joined the Mages' Guild in Balmora, never seemed to be an option before."

"Not a bad choice, I suppose - if you like guilds. I'm more of a loner myself, work as a scout and hunter. I actually spend most of my time in the east, sometimes around Azura's Coast but mostly in the Grazelands. Now that's the region to be!" Gelduin's eyes lit up. "Rolling hills of wickwheat shining gold in the sun, no settlements as far as the eye can see, Red Mountain towering over it all in the distance... I've never seen the famed forests of Valenwood, but I can't imagine how they'd compare. You do have to mind the Daedra, but that just makes it a interesting challenge."

"Mind the Daedra?" I squeaked.

Gelduin shrugged, as if she didn't see anything wrong with the sentence she'd just uttered. "You run into one wandering there on occasion. Mostly scamps and the occasional Ogrim, but one time I saw a Golden Saint. Ended up hiding in an ancestral tomb until I was sure it had gone, because I'd much rather tangle with any number of ghosts and skeletons than one of those. Er, no offense intended," she added hastily.

I wondered what exactly she'd thought I'd take offense at. Did I look like a Golden Saint? Well, perhaps a little irrationality was to be expected from someone who thought dodging one was an 'interesting challenge'.

"I think I'll stick to the west coast," I commented. "That sounds like the kind of excitement I'd rather avoid."

Gelduin frowned at me.

"See, that's what you think," she said. "But you know what's on the west coast? Daedric ruins. There are a few in the east, but the terrain's flat enough that you can see 'em and avoid 'em. The west coast is infested with the things - and then the West Gash is so hilly, and the Bitter Coast has all those trees blocking clear view and the swamps mean buildings sink - you're wandering around thinking a kagouti's the most dangerous thing you can run into and next thing you know you're standing at the entrance to a shrine and have two Dremora, a clannfear and a fireball bearing on you." Gelduin rubbed her side, apparently remembering some old injury. "Give me the Grazelands any day. At least there you see them coming, and you'd have to be really unlucky to face more than one at a time."

"All right, I amend my previous statement," I announced. "I'm sticking to cities. You know, those mysterious places where you run into no rampaging Daedra at all."

I realised that I'd just left the perfect opening for her to ask what, exactly, I was doing in the middle of the wilderness in that case, and cast about hurriedly for a change of subject. "Why do you have Daedra roaming the Grazelands, anyway?" I'd heard of land-owners being tolerant of tenants of all races and backgrounds before, but allowing colonists from Oblivion seemed to be taking that a little too far to me.

Gelduin shrugged. "No one really knows, but the usual story is that it's some Telvanni experiment gone horribly wrong. Seems pretty likely - it definitely wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen come out of one of those."

"...I see," I said. Varvur had been unable to quantify Telvanni beyond mages, east coast and the extremely helpful 'they're... they're Telvanni', but this was more informative.

Apparently Telvanni were those sorts of mages, the reason the Mages' Guild has strict rules every guild member is to follow hanging at every guild hall. I'd spent some time reading through them Fredas evening, and they were quite frankly enough to make you despair. It began with

1. All experimental spells are to be first tested on inanimate objects, then on summons or animals. Tests on people are only to proceed once these two have been successful. This includes self-tests!

The next few rules appeared to have been added to cover loopholes:

2. No spells are to be cast on others without informing them of the details and risks involved and getting their permission (in that order).

3. Creatures used for testing must be either owned/summoned by the mage in question or used with the owner/summoner's informed permission (see 2.)

My favourite example had been

10. Destruction spells are only to be practiced in the designated practice chamber on the dummies provided. In particular, under no circumstances should you use any of the following as a practice target: customers, fellow guild members, summoned Daedra, any potentially explosive material including but not limited to all potions, load-bearing pillars.'

Trying to imagine what had prompted some of those details had left me boggling.

"Speaking of mages," Gelduin said, "You said you know some detection spells? If so, it'd be useful if you could keep watch for creatures. Atronach-born," she added as if to forestall any questions. "I can't throw my magicka around willy-nilly like you people."

I'd have liked to dispute 'willy-nilly', since it wasn't like I could just burn magicka in the way of an Altmer or even a Mage-born. Then again, it was probably true that I could afford to be more cavalier with it than someone who had to either drink potions or fling themselves in the way of hostile spells, praying all the while, to recover their reserves. I couldn't even imagine what that must be like, but even trying made me shudder - I'd take the Lover over that any day. In any case, a detection spell wasn't much of a drain.

I closed my eyes and stretched out with my awareness. When I'd reached a good range, I began the process of 'tuning' it. This always felt a little like sinking into some pool, trying to find the right depth to sense whatever I was searching for.

A beacon like a lighthouse to the north, more various distances away to the south and southeast - the teleportation points for the Temples, was my guess. Definitely not what I was looking for. Deeper.

A blaze of power on my chest, two more from Gelduin's bow and left hand along with pinpricks from her quiver, an impression of more in the distance which must be the caravan - all of them humming with magicka. Nothing else. Well, it was a relief to know we didn't have bandits with enchanted weapons hiding in ambush, but still not right. Deeper.

There!

Like surfacing from the depths into a starry night, I felt the whole world awash in life. Grass grew towards the sun, bushes stretched their roots into the earth, sap moved through the veins of gnarled trees. Beneath my feet earthworms dug tiny tunnels through the soil, just ahead a bee flew from flower to flower, three feet behind me a line of ants trundled back to their nest bearing scraps of leaves. Against this backdrop, Gelduin and I stood out like torches, the caravan a distant bonfire. And there- up ahead-

I opened my eyes, still holding the spell. That was always a strange sensation, integrating the information from both magical impressions and ordinary sight - like double vision without actually seeing anything differently. I blinked and shook my head a few times until I was used to it.

"There's something over there," I said, pointing. "Around, oh, two hundred feet away, behind the top of that hill. Not a person, an animal of some sort - I'm not sure what kind. But..."

I frowned. That was odd.

"It feels... strange."

The life force I sensed was pulsating strangely. It also felt oddly... obscured, the bright flame of life half-hidden by a strange shadow hanging around it like a dark haze. I'd never sensed anything like it before, but I thought the closest I'd come was a tree being slowly strangled by mistletoe.

Also, focusing on whatever it was was making me feel sick to my stomach. That was definitely a first.

"I think there's something wrong with it," I decided.

"Something wrong with it?" Gelduin repeated, puzzled. "How do you... well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Let's go have a look."

She vanished into the bushes. With a sigh, I followed her.

I relaxed and let the spell go when the creature came into view. It was one of the two-legged reptilian creatures I'd first seen pulling the caravan earlier. Gelduin had said they were guar, herbivores that were commonly domesticated as work animals as well as for their hide and meat. Numerous wild ones roamed Vvardenfell, and although they'd attack if they felt they needed to defend their herd they much preferred fleeing to fighting. We'd driven off a few earlier, undoubtedly Gelduin would do the same here-

There was a loud twang.

The arrow flew straight, slamming into the beast's left eye with the light and crackle of released magicka. The guar thrashed and let out a horrible high-pitched squeal that had me wincing and covering my ears. It was cut short by the second arrow lodging in its throat. The guar reared up one last time, then collapsed with a gurgle.

I gulped. That noise- "Why did you kill it?"

Gelduin moved ahead carefully, a third arrow nocked. She stopped when she was still a good distance away from the beast. "Look," she said.

I moved forward to join her. For a moment, I didn't understand what she meant, then I saw it.

Unlike the other guar we'd seen, the skin of this one was an unhealthy-looking grey. The colour wasn't as obvious from a distance, however, because the skin was covered in weeping pustules and blisters - had even flaked off entirely in places. The exposed patches looked red and inflamed, and a few of them oozed yellow pus. There was pink foam around the corner of its mouth, reminding me of a rabid bear I'd had the misfortune to see once. A sickly sweet rotting smell filled the air.

I think there's something wrong with it, I'd said. I'd had no idea how right I was.

I swallowed back bile. "That's... what happened to it?"

Gelduin gave me an odd look. "You must be very new to Vvardenfell indeed. That's the Blight."

"Blight?" I repeated.

"It's a new kind of disease, only started showing up in the last five years or so. Affects animals and people, and it's terrible, absolutely terrible. Animals always become very aggressive, basically rabid... and surprisingly tenacious. I've seen a rat with Black-Heart still attacking with its spine almost severed and guts spilling out - if I hadn't used enchanted arrows, we might have had a fight on our hands with this one." She nodded at the dead guar.

"People... well." Gelduin shrugged. "The exact symptoms vary depending on which type it is, but they're always nasty. Worse, it's infectious and the usual Restoration magic for treating diseases doesn't work on it at all. When it first started showing up, people were worried we'd have another Thrassian plague on our hands. Honestly, I'm not entirely convinced yet we don't."

"You're serious." I stepped back, staring at the beast with entirely new eyes.

"Dead serious. Yakin Bael, the priest at the Temple in Vos - when the outbreaks started, he worked night and day to try to get them under control. In the end he finally managed to develop spells that work on the Blight - better for some varieties than others, mind you. But he hasn't managed to find a cure yet, and..." she lowered her voice. "I heard, recently he was asking Divayth Fyr for help. Because he thought it might be related to corprus."

Judging by the significant look Gelduin shot me, that was supposed to mean something to me, and most likely said something was bad. But before I could decide whether I really wanted to know what 'corprus' was, she went on.

"So now if you catch a Blight disease... if you're lucky, it'll be no worse than greenspore or rockjoint."

If you're lucky? I'd had rockjoint a few years ago and hadn't managed to reach a healer before it set in. The resulting two weeks of lying in bed with all my joints in agony, needing to be fed because I couldn't hold even a spoon with my fingers so swollen, were prominent on my list of experiences never to be repeated.

"If you're not, well... you might still survive." Gelduin shrugged, as if to say that all bets were off. I took a step back. "So when you run across a blighted animal," she jerked her head towards the guar, "best thing you can really do is put it out of its misery from a safe distance and then burn the body. Speaking of, I don't suppose you know a fire spell?"

"Only a touch-based one," I said. "But if I understand you correctly, I really don't want to get that close to it."

Gelduin shook her head. "No. You really, really don't. Oh well, time for me to sacrifice some of my magicka for a good cause."

When we left the clearing, the dead guar was a bonfire spewing oily smoke. I covered my mouth against the stench of burning, diseased flesh as I mulled over what I'd learned. It could really be boiled down to the following:

As soon as I got back to Balmora, I was never voluntarily setting foot outside of a city again for as long as I lived.

"I don't suppose you can teach me that Detection spell?" Gelduin said abruptly.

I shot her a look. "I thought you couldn't, what was it again... throw your magicka about willy-nilly?"

"I can't," Gelduin agreed, apparently unfazed by my throwing her words back into her face. "But - look, kid." I bristled. She didn't pay me any mind. "You just sensed that guar was blighted with your spell. I've never seen anyone do that before. The closest would be the diagnosis spells some healers use, and they actually have to be touching you for those to work. What you did- believe me, I could use a trick like that. And I'm not the only one."

Now that was strange. It wasn't as if I'd developed the spell myself, or even really tried to refine it. I'd taught it to myself from one of the standard Mysticism textbooks. It had taken me weeks to get it down, and when it finally clicked I was so happy to have managed to learn it I didn't try to get creative. Surely it was just the bog-standard variety that everyone used?

Of course, maybe everyone else was just really incompetent. I've learned through long, hard experience never to underestimate the likelihood of this.

"Tell you what," Gelduin offered, apparently thinking my silence meant refusal, "if you teach me how to do that, I'll teach you some things about moving unseen in the wilderness and how it's different from the city, and I'll also hook you up with some people who would pay good drakes for that trick of yours."

All right. That was an offer I wasn't going to turn down.

*****

Next

Notes: I'm still working out the exact details of this (particularly since I haven't 100% decided on what Cure (Common/Blight) Disease does in practice), but I don't think Cure Blight spells/potions/scrolls/etc. exist in Adryn's world - at least not yet.

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Apr 13 2015, 11:18 PM

[haute ecole rider]

It makes perfect sense to me that Adryn would detect a difference in the life-force of a Blighted creature versus the life-force of any other kind. Though I've never made it past the first three hours of Morrowind play (and thus got far enough in the MQ to get sucked in), I understand from the various fan-fics I've read that Corprus is a positively (?) serious condition that stands out from the other run-of-the-mill disease (sort of how Ebola compares to the common cold). It seems to have its origin in something from outside Nirn, so . . .

First I loved the bickering between Adryn and Varvur Tadril Saren and the way the caravan master handled that. Then I loved Adryn and Gelduin getting to know each other through work. Fun!

[Kazaera]

@haute ecole rider - Corprus plays a big role in the Morrowind MQ, and one of the explanations you're given (by Divayth Fyr, who is the in-universe expert on it) is that it's less a disease and more a divine blessing gone terribly wrong. I find this idea fascinating, and it fits in really well with my general conception of Dagoth Ur. So here both corprus and the Blight (which I do view as related, if not nearly as nasty) are very distinct from regular illnesses and have a dramatic "mystic" effect on the people afflicted. That gets reflected in Adryn's version of Detect Life (now with extra status information!)

I feel as if I can't even take any credit for Adryn and Varvur Tadril bickering, I just have to put them in the same room and it writes itself. Gelduin, now, snuck her way into the story - I really hadn't been planning on her at all until she showed up! I think it might be the influence of all the excellent Bosmer archers there are here on Chorrol. In any case, I think Adryn appreciates someone other than Varvur to talk to.

Last installment, Adryn went scouting with a Bosmer named Gelduin. During this, she discovered a Blighted guar with her detection spell and was told about the Blight (a dangerous new illness spreading across Vvardenfell) as a consequence. Finally, Gelduin asked Adryn to teach her the detection spell she'd used - apparently being able to sense that a creature is Blighted is an unusual ability. Adryn finds this confusing.

Chapter 9.5
*****

Sadly for both my sneaking skills and my purse, it didn't pan out. Apparently my teaching ability went past 'bad' and left 'terrible' in the dust to become some indescribable monstrosity the likes of which the world had never seen before, because the more I attempted to explain exactly what I did to cast my spell the more Gelduin just stared at me as though I were speaking Aldmeris. By the time afternoon had given way to evening, her expression indicated I'd managed to go from Aldmeris - which, although incomprehensible, at least had a few common elements with Tamrielic - to Yoku, Daedric, or possibly Sload. Finally, Gelduin sighed and said we'd better head back to the caravan. I apologised, blaming my inexperience - I'd never tried to teach anyone a spell before, after all. Gelduin just shrugged.

"If you work it out, the offer remains open," she said.

At least I seemed to have made a good impression on her all the same. After speaking to Gelduin, gro-Luzgan looked almost approving (a remarkably disconcerting sight) when he told me I'd done well that day and wasn't needed for night watch. A fact I was thankful for for two reasons: first, between scouting and my miserable failure at teaching, I'd drained my magicka reserves entirely and was looking forward to a good night's sleep to replenish them. Second, it seemed Varvur hadn't been lucky enough to get exempted and so I had something to hold over his head.

Dinner - a large bowl of unidentifiable-chunks-of-meat stew which was one of the best things I had ever tasted (my empty stomach might have played a role in this assessment) - provided a good opportunity to start on both annoying Varvur and recharging my magicka. All the same, the stress of the day made itself known and so it wasn't much later that I settled onto my borrowed bedroll in Gelduin's tent. She was still out, conferring with gro-Luzgan - I'd caught the word blighted as I passed them, so I guessed the guar we'd found had bothered her even more than she'd let on - and I had the tent to myself for now. I'd taken the opportunity to change and perform my evening ablutions in blessed privacy, and now there was only one last thing to do before bed.

I studied my arm. I'd been very careful with it that day and it was feeling much better, with only the occasional dull ache. Still, Sosia had been quite firm: I was to use my new healing spell twice a day for a while longer so it would be fully healed.

"The key of any self-directed healing spell," Sosia said, "is that you need to have a really firm image in your mind of what the affected area is meant to look like, what shape your body is meant to be in - and then use magicka to impose that image on reality."

She paused and looked at me as though waiting for something. She was far more serious when teaching, but right now there was a mischievous look in her eyes which made me remember she was someone who'd thought divesting Hlormar Wine-Sot of all his clothes qualified as appropriate revenge.

"Well, aren't you going to say something like 'that's all'?" Sosia asked when I stayed silent. I had the feeling she'd been looking forward to that particular ignorant comment, and found myself grateful I'd noticed the conversational trap.

"I figured it can't be that easy, considering how much training healers have to undergo," I responded.

Sosia pouted. Apparently I'd ruined her fun. "You're right, of course. For all people say they know something 'as well as the back of their own hand', could you describe the back of your hand perfectly without looking? Sketch it just from memory? Building up a really strong and detailed self-image is hard work."

"Wait a minute," I said warily. My teleportation misadventures were fresh in my mind. "Can healing spells go wrong? If you screw up on your... self-image?" My imagination was coming up with horrible images of me daydreaming in the middle of the healing spell and ending up with a second hand instead of a less broken bone. I silently cursed it for being quite so vivid.

"Oh, not the minor spells - which are all you'd be capable of right now. They just fizzle."

That was reassuring, but I noticed a glaring omission there. "And major spells?"

Sosia paused. "...That's why people have to practice and get the minor spells down perfectly before they try anything bigger. And if worst comes to worst, the body does reject mistakes over time."

Right.

"Visualise in detail what the affected area is meant to look like," I muttered and closed my eyes to focus. I emphatically shut out the image of me with a third hand, then did the same for that of the extra hand atrophying and falling off as my body 'rejected' it (although I was sure it had been meant as a reassuring statement, I felt this did not constitute an improvement of my mental landscape). After all, Sosia had said that was only an issue for major spells and minor spells could only fizzle, so I had nothing to worry about.

I steadfastly ignored the small voice in the back of my mind pointing out that I'd also been told the most teleportation spells could do was fizzle.

So. Focus on what your arm is meant to look like...

After a moment, I cracked my eyes open and rolled up one of my sleeves to take a close look at my uninjured left arm. You might call it cheating, I called it being smart about things.

I'd never exactly had much weight to spare, but once upon a time I'd at least been able to lay claim to 'wiry' without too much laughter. Alas, the last year had put that firmly into the past - I'd definitely lost weight, both muscle and otherwise. At the moment you could get a far better look at my skeletal structure than I thought entirely within the bounds of propriety. I should probably start taking second helpings at dinner. For now, it at least made it obvious that on this side of my body, my bones were wonderfully, gloriously whole.

My arm was covered in fine, pale hairs that were effectively invisible unless you were close enough to either be me or be about to get my fist in your face (I take my personal space quite seriously). My skin was grey, of course...

Detail. 'Grey' covered a lot of ground. Here in Morrowind I'd seen Dunmer of all sorts of colourings, ranging from a pale pearly cast that made them look almost like an extremely unwell Nord to a grey so dark it was close to black. Some had a blue or purple tint to their skin, some the slightest cast of green, a few even shading into brownish - although I suspected that last might imply another race on the father's side.

So. My arm was a dusky grey located firmly in the middle range of the spectrum - perhaps as dark as some of the darker-skinned Nibeneans, paler now than it had been when I was a child due to lack of sun. Although it looked slightly reddish right now, that was just the lighting. Really it was a plain, pure grey with no hint of any other colour.

I closed my eyes and focused on the image of my arm... flipped it, added a mole here and removed one there, remembered the five pinprick scars on my upper arm... there, that looked right. Now draw on your magicka...

Even through my eyelids, I could tell when light blossomed around me and grew. I opened my eyes just in time to see it gather around my arm and then sink into it.

No extra hands appeared, nor did any other horrible mutations I'd been carefully not thinking about materialise. What did happen was that the dull ache faded even further. I bit back a cheer at the success. Then I had to fight off a surge of dizziness as the pool of magicka I'd regenerated over the course of the evening informed me it had opted not to exist after all. Sosia hadn't been kidding when she'd said healing spells really took it out of you.

I lay down on the bedroll and wriggled around until I was comfortable. Then I paused.

"Good dreams, please," I said sternly.

*****

Next

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Apr 27 2015, 11:07 PM

[Grits]

I loved Gelduin’s enthusiastic description of the Grazelands. Adryn’s voice continues to delight. Colonists from Oblivion, lol. Very nice description of her detect life spell and the Blight-sick guar. Gelduin is marvelous. I’m stomping on my inner fangirl to keep her under control.

Ah, Adryn’s failure to teach Gelduin her blight-detection method sheds an interesting light on her own ability to do it. I love how you unveil little mysteries and then let them grow in the reader’s mind.

[Kazaera]

@Grits - I'm glad you're enjoying Gelduin! She's another character who basically elbowed her way into the story over my protests, so I'm happy that she's going over well.

Also, you are very astute. You're right, Adryn's inability to teach Gelduin her detection spell means something. It's part of my possibly-unhealthy love for mysterious foreshadowing, although I admit I hadn't expected anyone to pick up on that bit being significant quite yet!

Last installment, Adryn finished off her day with a tentative excursion into Restoration, one which went quite successfully. Last we saw her, Adryn was settling down to bed, hoping for more *ahem* good dreams like the last one.

Chapter 9.6
*****

The tavern was dimly lit and filled with smoke. I found myself grateful for the scarf I'd wrapped around my mouth. I'd used it to fool the Nord guards outside, who were only able to distinguish between Chimer and Dwemer on the basis of 'does it have a beard?' - I hadn't realised it could also save me from suffocation.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Of course, Dwemer themselves were perfectly capable of telling a Chimer. Never to mention that to anyone capable of counting higher than two without taking off their shoes (I suspected fingers were too advanced a concept for some of these Nords), my chitin armour and spear made my race obvious. No Dwemer I've ever seen appreciates chitin - they seem to think there's nothing that can't be improved by making it out of metal instead. I keep waiting for them to build a giant statue out of the stuff and start worshipping it.

"Sorry to intrude," I said, finding that I was, in fact, deeply sorry to intrude. The glitter of at least a dozen pairs of alien black eyes, all fixed on me, made me want to forget my plan and flee back to my tribe. But I ploughed on. "I'm looking for the Brothers of Resdayn?"

Silence spread out from me like ripples in a pond, broken only by clanking noises as some of the mer who'd been watching me got to their feet (you see what I mean about the metal?). I swallowed when I saw hands drift to hilts.

Perhaps that had been too blunt? Our Wise Woman had always said that my complete and utter inability to use this strange thing called 'tact' would be the end of me one day. I had to admit I'd hoped that day wouldn't come quite this soon.

"Well, boys," one of the Dwemer around me said. "Looks like we need to move. Our security must be dismal if one of the Daedric bootlickers managed to find us."

"Yeah, we definitely need a new place if they're letting chimps in," another Dwemer agreed, one who looked... disturbingly like all the others around him, actually. I briefly considered the possibility that I'd just entered the home of identical quindecaplets - the poor mother! - then discarded it. I lingered longer over the idea of there being some truth in those Solstice tales about Dwemer children being grown in vats (some sort of chemical contamination might explain the lack of intelligence in this group - really, 'chimp'? That's just embarrassing coming from anyone over the age of five), but decided in the end that my ability to tell Dwemer apart could probably use some work.

"Good idea, but we should beat him up a little first. Make him tell us who let things slip." All right, maybe there were more important things to worry about than Dwemer reproduction.

"Wait. I want to talk to him." The voice from the back of the room made the Dwemer who'd been circling me like cliff racers who'd just spotted something shiny (an unfair comparison really, cliff racers being so much more intelligent) back off. The crowd around them parted to let me through. Someone with authority, then. Maybe my plan wasn't a total loss.

At the back of the room sat a Dwemer, one who looked much like all the other Dwemer except that his vat had apparently been running on a bigger scale. It was enough to make me wish for once in my life that I was taller. I was usually perfectly all right with being wiry rather than muscular and a little short (all manly posturing aside, the easier time I had hiding wasn't to be sneezed at), but it was hard not to wish for a few more inches and a little more biceps when faced with a mer who looked as though he could snap me in half.

Given the lack of other distinguishing features, I mentally dubbed him 'Dwarf-Orc'. I immediately warned my tongue not to let that moniker slip.

Dwarf-Orc peered at me. "I'd like to ask you some questions, Chimer. But I want to see who I'm talking to. Otherwise, I'll let Cuolec and Mzend continue what I interrupted."

What-

Oh, the scarf.

I bid a sad farewell to breathable air and pushed the cloth covering my mouth down. I inhaled very carefully, giving my lungs time to adjust. I didn't think hacking and coughing would help my standing here.

Murmurs started up around the two of us.

"...you know I'm not good with these beardless faces, but..."

"...shouldn't he be with his mother sacrificing guar to Daedra or whatever it is these barbarians do?"

"...a kid?"

Kid? I'd completed the ritual of adulthood over two years ago, thank you very much. I'd like to see any of these brutes manage the same. It'd be a good laugh, watching them trying to survive in the wilderness on their own for a full month, especially when with all that clank they'd scare away all the creatures in miles by just standing up-

I swallowed down my protests, firmly telling myself that 'kid' was better than 'chimp' any day. If they'd managed to see past the chitin to my age, that was progress already.

Dwarf-Orc didn't react beyond a nod. "All right, then. Why are you here?"

"I'm interested in working with you." I was pleased that the words came out steady.

I was less pleased when the Dwemer erupted in laughter.

"Working with us?" Dwarf-Orc drawled once the noise had died down. He hadn't laughed, but something about the set of his mouth told me it had been a struggle. "Aren't there any Chimer resistance groups you could join?"

"Oh, there are. In fact, I lead one," only because we'd lost everyone more suited in the last raid, but that fell into the category of 'need-to-know' information. To be precise, into the category of information they really, really didn't need to know. "Sorry, I should have been clearer - I'm not interested in joining you, I'm interested in allying with you."

This time nobody laughed. Somehow, I suspected this didn't constitute an improvement.

"Why, exactly, do you think I'd be interested in making alliance with a group of Chimer?" There was something dangerous in Dwarf-Orc's tone. All right, definitely not an improvement.

"Well, for one I'm hoping you're not stupid." The words escaped before I could stop them, and I winced when I saw Dwarf-Orc's eyes narrow. The Wise Woman had also said that the only way I'd cut it as a diplomat would be with divine assistance. I'd so hoped this little jaunt wouldn't prove her right.

"Explain." The voice was cold, but Dwarf-Orc hadn't reached for his axe yet. That was probably the best I could hope for.

"Look-" I spread my hands. "The only way those Nords were able to conquer us was by playing us against each other. Everyone knows Chimer and Dwemer get along about as well as alit and nix-hounds. Even now, with those round-ears driving us off our land, taking our goods... walking through our halls," I added for my Dwemer audience, "we're at each other's throats. And that means we can't shake them off."

I took a deep breath, wishing for some water to wet my throat. But I couldn't stop now - I had them listening, I had to make the most of it. "Us Chimer, we're good at guerilla tactics. Hit-and-run, fading away, sabotage, using the terrain to our advantage. But we don't have the staying power, and don't have the sort of arms and armour we'd need to survive a head-on clash... or to be really dangerous to them. Without that, all we can be is a nuisance. And as for you Dwemer-" I paused. Judging by the looks I was getting, I had the impression that continuing that sentence wouldn't be good for my health.

Dwarf-Orc, however, looked thoughtful. "We've got the weapons, the armour, the staying power," he offered. "But we're bad at scouting, hiding, moving quickly. The elders say that when the Nords invaded, they kept luring our troops into ambushes. And now it turns out the old tactics don't work well for a rebellion."

A low murmur of discontent was rising from the Dwemer around us - I wasn't sure if they were objecting to what Dwarf-Orc was saying, or just objecting to him telling me.

"You see," I seized the opportunity to continue before things could degenerate, "neither of us can drive out the Nords out on our own. We definitely can't do it while trying to fight each other at the same time, or with them playing us off against each other. There's a saying about the enemy of one's enemy which I think all of us could do to heed. And if everyone is really so keen on killing each other because of theological differences, we can always get back to that after we've driven the northmen out of our home."

I bit the inside of my cheek. I hadn't meant to say that last part out loud-

But Dwarf-Orc was laughing. "Well said, well said! I agree in every instance, particularly the last-"

"You can't be serious?" The interruption came from one of the other Dwemer, who looked aghast. Provided I was reading his expression correctly through the growth on his face. "The Chimer are just as bad-"

Dwarf-Orc fixed him with a cold look. "When I want your opinion, Rourken, I'll ask for it. Until then, if you have any objections to my leadership? The door is that way." The mer subsided, grumbling.

Dwarf-Orc turned back to me. "I'm Dumac - I'm the leader of this band."

Just Dumac? What a pity, he'd seemed reasonably intelligent up until now (a sadly rare occurrence), but if he was really stupid enough to think I'd believe he was of no clan, that I'd just roll over and take such an insult-

Wait. Dwemer.

Cultural differences, I told myself sternly. Remember cultural differences!

"And who would you be, ally?" Dwa- Dumac asked, extending his hand.

Ally. Praise Azura. I hadn't expected this to actually work.

I reached out and clasped the offered hand to seal the agreement, hoping he wouldn't notice the way my own was shaking. "My name is-"

*****

Next

Notes: Completely irrelevant to this chapter, but:

I now own a new laptop which is capable of running Skyrim! Writing has slowed somewhat as a result >> but I'm taking advantage of the opportunity to check out Solitude and other places in Skyrim Adryn lived when she was younger. It's helping a lot... and I will happily wave away any inaccuracies with "200 years time difference!"

(Some Adryn in Skyrim pictures might come out of this if I can find head/hair mods for her, although her outright horror/vehement protests at the idea of dragonslaying makes her even more unplayable as an in-game character than in Morrowind. Oops.)

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Apr 27 2015, 11:07 PM

[haute ecole rider]

- Indoril Nerevar!

And poor Adryn has yet another bizarre dream. Ugh. Isn't she afraid to sleep by now?

[Grits]

This was a great update! I love that you cued the reader in right away that this was not the Adryn we know so there was no head-scratching to distract from the story. You did it in a subtle and seamless way so that by the end we could guess his identity, but there was never even a hint of anything out of place in the scene. Outstanding!

In case it helps ease Adryn’s qualms about the northern province through the Skyrim game, it’s easy to leave the dragons out completely. Some of my characters never see a dragon after the very first scene, so they have never had to fight one.

[Kazaera]

@hautey - I'm pretty sure that if Adryn realised exactly what it is she's dreaming and, in particular, who it is she's dreaming as, she'd resort to drastic means in order to prevent them. (Adryn: Never sleeping again.) Sadly for her, she's forgetting the details pretty much immediately upon waking up and is only left with the feeling of "hurray, did not wake up screaming!" I might have to make this clearer if it's confusing...

@Grits - I'm glad you like the way I structured the dream! I will admit that in the first dream I intentionally tried to draw out the confusion because the bewildered "wait, what's going on, where are we... wait a second, who's *narrating*?" reaction was actually what I was going for - don't know how well I succeeded, mind you. That said, keeping up the mystery at this point would be pointless and annoying.

Also, thanks for the tip about Skyrim! I am slowly coaxing Adryn into the idea of visiting the place, telling her Alternate Start means she doesn't even have to deal with the dragon in Helgen. Now she's being fussy about noses and hair colours, so time to search for (more) appearance mods I guess.

Last installment, after Adryn went to bed we jumped to a mysterious Chimer seriously why I am obfuscating his name everyone who has an inkling of the Morrowind MQ knows who he is forming an alliance with the Dwemer Dumac and his resistance group to drive the Nords out of Morrowind. Now, back to Adryn...

Chapter 9.7
*****

We reached Balmora in the early evening of the next day. The guards waved us through without a closer look - I wasn't sure if it was because of the hubbub of the caravan arriving or because Varvur had been right regarding local politics and the likelihood of the Balmoran guards being on the look-out for criminals from Ald'ruhn.

Our good-byes to gro-Luzgan were quite perfunctory, as he was busy arranging camping grounds outside the city for the night. He did give me a grunt that sounded approving, which I figured qualified as high praise for my efforts and abilities. My farewell to Gelduin took longer, and she left saying not just that I was welcome to travel with the caravan again anytime I liked, but also that she'd drop in to catch up when she was next in Balmora. I liked to think her interest in continuing our acquaintance was due to my charming personality, but suspected she still held hopes I'd manage to teach her my detection spell.

At any rate, the sun had nearly set by the time Varvur and I were finally walking away from the caravan. Only the very tops of the hills around the city were still bathed in light, and to the east Masser - almost full - was already visible.

I grabbed Varvur by the arm and dragged him towards the Mages' Guild. He resisted. "Oi! What's the hurry?"

Did he really just ask what the hurry was? "We have to get back before-"

-the sun sets, I almost said, but caught myself just in time.

Balmora. I was in Balmora, not Daggerfall. I hadn't lived in Daggerfall for almost a decade, you'd think I'd be over this by now.

Besides, last I heard the curfew there was no longer as... strictly imposed, shall we say, with extremely harsh penalties for violation, as it used to be.

It's odd how some things stay with you. The career I'd pursued in Skyrim had forced me to deal with my aversion to staying out after dark, and I was perfectly able to wander about city streets at night without any unwelcome memories rearing their heads. Yet still, the sight of the last of the day's sunlight on the roofs as the day faded to dusk made my heart beat quicker, my eyes dart from shadow to shadow in case one started moving and my ears prick for ghostly cries.

"Before... oh, is the guild about to close?"

I shook my head and let go of his upper arm in favour of reaching over to rub my own. I hardly even noticed the scars I'd gained from my first and only violation of Daggerfall curfew these days, but right now they felt like a brand. "Never mind."

Once we reached the guild, we found that most members had already gone home. The only person I saw downstairs was Teleportation Girl. She nodded at me, then her eyes widened when she saw Varvur.

For a moment, the only thought in my brain was Shor's blood, please don't let her get romance novel fantasies about Varvur too. "Have you seen Ajira?" I said hurriedly, hoping to sidetrack her.

"She's in the storeroom - something about Galbedir stealing her report." Teleportation Girl wrinkled her nose. "I really don't understand why those two can't just leave each other alone. But- hey, wait!"

"Thanks!" I tossed over my shoulder, making a beeline for the storeroom. Varvur trailed along behind me.

Indeed, the door to the storeroom was ajar. I stuck my head inside. "Ajira?"

The room was a tiny cramped thing piled high with sacks and barrels, the only light coming from a magelight on the wall near the entrance. Ajira was poking through items on a shelf, ears flat against her head. They perked up when she heard me.

"Friend Adryn? Friend Adryn! Where have you been?" Her voice took on a scolding note.

"Er... that's a long story. A really long story. A really, really long story. Can I maybe talk to you in pri-"

"Hey, Ajira, I think I found it!" A brown hand holding a scroll popped up from behind a bunch of sacks. It was quickly followed by a head, one belonging to someone I'd last seen telling stories about the Imperial Legion during tea break on Fredas. "Here, this says Report on the Mushrooms of the..."

Jamie trailed off, eyes narrowing and gaze caught by something behind me. Or... no. Someone.

I looked around with a sinking feeling. Yes, Varvur had come up behind me.

"Wait a moment. I was just reading the bounty notices from Ald'ruhn - you're that guy wanted alive under suspicion of murder." Jamie snapped her fingers. "Varvur Sarethi, that's it. What are you doing here?" Her hand went to her belt and scrabbled futilely there - apparently Jamie had decided she didn't need her sword to hunt rogue reports.

Varvur backed away a step, his hand going to Cloudcleaver. "Look, I can explain! I didn't- I don't remember- there were dreams-"

I could tell when Jamie spotted Cloudcleaver because she slid into a defensive stance, eyes growing cold. I fought the urge to bury my head in my hands. Instead, I shot Ajira a desperate look, trying to convey I swear there is a good explanation for this and I'd really appreciate it if both of you listened to me through my eyebrows alone.

Apparently something managed to get through, because Ajira nodded to me before turning to the other two.

"All right," she said briskly. "Ajira thinks this sounds like the sort of story best told at length, somewhere comfortable and private. Certainly not with weapons in hand, and certainly not shouted across the Mages' Guild storeroom."

Wonder of wonders, both Varvur and Jamie subsided under her disapproving look. I looked at her jealously - after the last two days I would happily give every last drake in my possession and more for a reliable way to make Varvur shut up.

"As it so happens," Ajira continued, "Ajira was going to go home for dinner once her report was found." She plucked the scroll out of Jamie's hands and gave it a glance, then tucked it protectively into her satchel. "She invites the others to come along and discuss this matter calmly, over comberry cakes and hackle-lo tea. Ajira's home is small but private. There is only one other there and Ajira does not think he will be a problem."

*****

Ajira lived in a tiny apartment on the upper floor of a building just across the river, near the city wall. Judging from the dimensions of the thing, it couldn't be any bigger than the alchemy lab back in the guild. It certainly seemed lack of space had forced her to move her cooking and storage facilities to the roof just across from her door, considering the small firepit and the sacks and urns piled to one side - the latter glimmering with magicka that I suspected not only kept off the rain but also contained a surprise for any prospective thief.

"The honoured guests are welcome to enter." Ajira had unlocked the door to her home while I was looking around. "Ajira will join them in a moment - she just needs to fetch something."

Not far inside, I stopped.

I'd spent a large part of the walk here wondering about the mysterious he Ajira had mentioned. Had Teleportation Girl been right - did Ajira really have a boyfriend? If so, why hadn't she mentioned him? ...had I been infected by spending too much time with romance novel enthusiasts? Surely the more obvious answer was a friend she shared with to save money.

In all my speculations, I hadn't expected the small bundle of fur currently looking at me suspiciously.

"I'm Ma'Zajirr. Who are you?" he demanded.

"Er. Hello to you, too," I told the Khajiit kit, trying not to let my voice betray my shock. "We're friends of Ajira's."

Did Ajira have a son? No... she couldn't possibly be older than me, and my tentative guess was that Ma'Zajirr was around eight or nine. Even if I was a year or two off, the ages just didn't match up.

Ma'Zajirr looked at me with narrowed eyes, wooden sword held in a threatening position. "I don't know you. Does-"

"What is this Ajira hears?" Ajira appeared behind us, carrying a small bundle wrapped in oilcloth and exuding a most appetizing scent. My mouth watered as I remembered the promise of cake. "I, I, I, Ajira hears. You, you, you. Does Ma'Zajirr think he is a noble? A great hero? Vivec himself? Perhaps soon he will start calling himself Ra'Zajirr-Do. It would give Ajira something to laugh about, at least."

Ma'Zajirr wilted, ears drooping. "But Aunt Ajira, talking like that makes me sound stupid," he said sulkily.

"No, it makes Ma'Zajirr sound like a polite kit who has been brought up properly. Who has been saying such things to him?" Ajira demanded. "His friends at school? Men and mer - what would they know of what it means to be a Khajiit."

She turned to the three of us, who'd been staring at the exchange in bewilderment. "This is Ajira's nephew, Ma'Zajirr. Ajira apologises for his lack of manners. Ma'Zajirr, these are Adryn, Jamie and..." she trailed off, shooting Varvur an inquiring look.

"Varvur Sarethi," Varvur introduced himself, a slow grin spreading over his features. "A pleasure to meet you, Ma'Zajirr."

Ajira gave the youngster a pointed look. "Ma'Zajirr is pleased to meet y- pleased to meet the honoured guests," he mumbled, scratching at the floor with his footclaws and determinedly not looking at any of us.

"I didn't know you had a nephew," I blurted, still rather dumbfounded by this turn of events but starting to feel bad about the times I'd monopolised Ajira's attention into the night.

"Ma'Zajirr is Ajira's sister's son," Ajira explained. "She is... no longer able to take care of him, so Ma'Zajirr lives with Ajira now."

Oh. No wonder he was staying with her. The fate of Ajira's sister, which I'd heard about only a few days ago, came back to me. I felt a sudden stab of sympathy for Ma'Zajirr who'd lost his mother in such a way and fought to squelch it. Sympathy may seem like a minor thing but it's a slippery slope from there to altruism, so it's really best not to even get started.

"He goes to school at the Imperial Cult in Fort Moonmoth and stays there during the week," Ajira was saying now. "So he is only in Balmora on weekends, or during school holidays such as this week."

"Stays there?" Jamie cut in. "Why? It's - what - half an hour's walk to Fort Moonmoth, surely he could travel there and back every day."

"See?" The way Ma'Zajirr leapt triumphantly on Jamie's statement made me feel this was a long-standing argument in the small family. "Aunt Ajira, everyone from Balmora goes home every day! Sodril's been saying I'm a coward-"

Ajira bristled in the way only Khajiit can. "Out of the question! It is far too dangerous."

Ma'Zajirr looked mutinous, but made no further reply. Jamie, clearly bewildered by Ajira's vehemence, opened her mouth - it seemed she was going to argue further. I took stock of my options and decided the best course of action available to me was jabbing Jamie in the side with my elbow.

"Hey!" Jamie looked at me angrily. Whatever she saw on my face made her shut up.

Ajira glared at the room for another moment, then slowly relaxed, her fur lying flat again. "Ma'Zajirr wished to play kickball tonight with his friend M'Aksayn, correct? Ajira has thought about it and decided that is all right with her. Here." Copper glinted only briefly before Ma'Zajirr made the coins in Ajira's outstretched paw vanish. "He can buy himself supper before they play."

"Great! Thanks, Aunt Ajira!" Then Ma'Zajirr paused as if arrested by a sudden thought. "But I- Ma'Zajirr thought Aunt Ajira didn't want him to stay out so long?"

"People are allowed to change their minds, are they not?"

But Ajira's attempts at deflection clearly weren't working. "Are you trying to keep something from me?" Ma'Zajirr's tone was affronted.

"Manners, Ma'Zajirr," Ajira scolded. "And... well, it does so happen that Ajira's friend Adryn has something very important to talk about, so Ajira was hoping to have a private, confidential discussion with her guests."

"I- Ma'Zajirr can keep secrets!"

"Ajira knows he can. But... it will require a great deal of talking, does he understand? Ajira expects a great many things must be explained and then discussed. Hours, it might be, sitting and talking."

Oh, that was crafty. Even with the little I'd seen of Ma'Zajirr, I felt quite confident in saying that sitting still was almost certainly not a strength of his. The slow horror dawning on his face only served to reinforce that assessment.

"There will be tea," Ajira continued ruthlessly. "Much tea. As otherwise our throats will get dry from all the talking we will do. Ajira thought that Ma'Zajirr would rather run around and kick balls around with his friends than sit and listen for all that time, and so out of the goodness of her heart she decided to relax his curfew tonight so he could go to the game. But if he truly wishes to remain, Ajira supposes-"

I wasn't quite clear how Ma'Zajirr had made it to the doorway, but suddenly he was standing outside. "That's - that's perfectly all right, Aunt Ajira! Thank you! I'll be going now!" A long pause. "You're probably only going to talk about really boring things, anyway." And then he'd disappeared.

"Right," Ajira said after a moment. "He will be gone a while. In fact, Ajira may have to go out and find him in a few hours, as it is quite possible he will interpret relaxed curfew as no curfew. But that is for later. Now, Ajira believes friend Adryn had a long story to tell?"

*****

Notes: Anyone who doesn't understand Adryn's comments about Daggerfall curfew might want to try going into Daggerfall City at night in TES II... preferably playing at night, with the lights turned down and the sound way up. Alternatively, watch this video.

Next

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Mar 15 2016, 12:10 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Such an adorable (and typical) kit! Ajira certainly knows how to handle him.

Loved Jamie's reaction when she recognized the guy from the Wanted! posters!

[Grits]

Ah, thanks for the demonstration of Daggerfall’s after-hours danger. Vengeance… That video is going to give me nightmares.

I love the explanation of Khajiit-speak underneath Ajira’s scolding of her nephew. The interactions between characters in both scenes were a continuous delight to read. Awesome update.

[Kazaera]

Aaand Adryn returns! (Adryn strikes back? Revenge of the Adryn? Not a new Adryn, this is the same old Adryn as ever...) Her writer is once again rather sheepish at being gone for so long and hopes that bearing new updates will serve as sufficient apology.

I'm not going to pretend I'm back for good, since anyone who's been following this story over the past few years has probably noticed that that's not how I work. *wry* That said, I've been writing quite a bit lately: not only do I have chapter ten basically complete, it's looking like a good chance that I'll be able to finish chapter eleven too before I wander off. Wish me luck!

Last installment, Adryn, Jamie and Varvur paid a visit to Ajira's home to be able to discuss sensitive topics such as someone's rather volatile standing in the eyes of law enforcement away from prying ears. In the course of this they also met Ajira's nephew Ma'Zajirr, who is less than keen on Khajiiti politeness customs. Ajira wonders where she went wrong.

Now, Adryn attempts to explain to Jamie and Ajira how exactly she ended up running around with a wanted fugitive and why they shouldn't call the guards on him. (She's very surprised at herself, I'm sure.)

Chapter 9.8

It really did end up being quite a long story, especially once Varvur started deciding (based on no evidence at all) that we were interested in his version of events. It was so incredibly biased and dimwitted that I had to wonder if he'd sleepwalked through the past three days - I could hardly be blamed if I found myself forced to set the record straight.

"Would the two of you stop arguing?" Jamie groaned.

At any rate, by the time I'd finished we'd finished not only the promised comberry cakes - easily as as delicious as they'd smelled - and an entire pot of hackle-lo tea but also half a pot of guar and ash yam soup, leftovers from the night before according to Ajira. I wasn't entirely certain how much she and Jamie had understood of my story what with all the inaccuracies Varvur had introduced, but at least Jamie no longer looked like she was planning to drag him to the guards.

"Right." Jamie pinched the bridge of her nose. "I suppose I really can't take you to the guards."

It's always nice to have that sort of thing confirmed.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't." Varvur was definitely being more polite to Jamie than he'd ever been to me, I noticed. It made me feel rather indignant; I'd have to come up with a suitable revenge when I had some spare time.

"It certainly sounds as though you've been treated unjustly," Jamie continued, distracting me from the thoughts of what, exactly, one could slip into Varvur's hackle-lo tea for minimum harm and maximum humiliation (certainly not an intelligence-draining potion - no one would ever notice the difference). "I'm not entirely sure I believe your story, but given what Adryn has said it seems plausible enough… and it's clear local law enforcement won't be investigating this anytime soon. Again."

She heaved a heavy sigh, then turned to me. "So. What's the plan?"

"Plan?" I asked.

"Plan for what to do next."

I knew I'd forgotten something.

Jamie pinched the bridge of her nose. I guessed she'd correctly interpreted the blank look on my face. "Right, in that case I'll see if I can think of something. It seems our best bet is to find proof that Varvur was controlled by magic and not responsible for his actions in order to clear his name. And - with all due respect, Adryn - I think I might have the most experience with this sort of investigation."

"Wait a minute, you have experience with-"

"Solving the murder in Gnisis, remember?" Jamie pointed out. "I had to do some digging there."

That was a good point.

"Anyway, I'd like to ask you some questions, Varvur. The first sign of something wrong was nightmares, right?"

"Yes," Varvur answered, once again far more obediently than he'd ever responded to me. I bristled. "They started a few weeks before the- before."

"Was there anything that changed in your life just before then? Anything unusual that happened, perhaps?"

I had to admire Jamie's cool approach and the surprisingly intelligent questions she was asking. She sounded almost like Mistress Mauripelle in Acatta Caristia's novels (also childhood favourites of mine, particularly her A Summerset Mystery).

"Just before the dreams started- actually, now that you mention it..."

Varvur frowned as though thinking hard - a task undoubtedly made difficult through lack of both talent and practice. "I got this statue from a friend of mine... well, more an acquaintance really. I drink with him sometimes in the Rat in the Pot, that's a tavern in Ald'ruhn."

It seemed Varvur had the mind (or, more accurately, lack thereof) of a Nord - one drink and someone was his friend for life. I considered telling him that, then decided to leave it for when we weren't trying to get information from him and I could properly enjoy the ensuing eruption.

"A friend?" Jamie probed.

"He's a pawnbroker, always has a lot of cheap wares he's trying to get rid of quickly," Varvur waved a hand. "I buy things off him sometimes, since he needs the business and it's not like the money is a worry for me."

I bit down several of the things that immediately came to mind following that comment, proving, I believe, that I do very much have the ability to control myself in the face of provocation and all statements to the contrary are perfidious lies. Then another thought reared its head.

"In a tavern? He doesn't have a shop or anything?" I asked.

"No - he says he can't afford the taxes. Why?" Varvur was looking puzzled.

I considered enlightening him that his friend was probably a fence and Varvur had bought stolen goods off him, but decided that, much like telling him his lack of brains meant he'd make an excellent Nord, the resulting explosion would just end up distracting us both. Besides, Jamie was glaring at me. I put it on the long, long list of things Varvur did not need to know and waved the question off.

"The statue?" Jamie resumed her role as chief interrogator.

"Right - he said... actually, now that I think about it," Varvur sounded surprised, "he said that if I put it next to my bed while I slept it would give me good dreams. I didn't think it would!" he protested when I shot him a how naive can you even be look. "It's just, it was cheap and he needed the money and I thought, what harm could it possibly do... anyway, the nightmares started that night."

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, incredulous. "Someone sells you a statue that's meant to give you good dreams, you start having horrible nightmares, and you don't think hey, maybe something isn't right about that thing? You don't even put it away? How on earth did you even survive to adulthood?"

Varvur glared at me. "Will you shut up? The reason I didn't put it away was..." He blinked. "Was..."

"What's that? You have no explanation beyond 'I'm sorry, Adryn, I'm too stupid to live? What a surprise.'"

"No." Varvur didn't react at all to my jibe, didn't even look at me. I shivered. That was positively unnatural. "I, I think I forgot about it completely. I don't think I thought about it even once until just now, and it was right next to my bed the entire time."

"And I take it you don't usually experience amnesia about your belongings? I mean, it would never happen to me but given your limited intelligence, I don't want to jump to conclusions-" I stopped when Varvur glared at me and hid a smile. Varvur was getting angry with me, all was right in the world again.

"Ahem." Jamie cleared her throat. I shot her a guilty look.

"We've identified both a possible method and a possible culprit. It seems like the best thing to do at this juncture would be to investigate this Galtis Guvron, which..." Jamie's shoulders slumped, "would be much, much easier if any of us had any sort of official standing with law enforcement. This is almost making me wish I stayed with the Legion."

I shuddered at the idea of Jamie reconsidering her association with the Legion, a truly horrifying thought we had to distract her from at once. I cast around desperately for inspiration on the matter.

It obliged.

"Actually," I said, "I might have an idea..."

*****

End of chapter

Notes: Although I'm not sure there's much point in me apologising for wandering off by now, I do apologise for leaving you one installment from the chapter end when I'd already finished it. /o\ I have no idea why I didn't post this part last year - it might have been I only managed to finish it long enough after the last installment that I didn't think it was worth it to post it until I had more - but it is rather embarrassing now.

Next

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Mar 21 2016, 10:17 PM

[Kazaera]

Last chapter, Adryn and Varvur made their way back to Balmora. This journey involved some obstacles, not least of which Varvur's apparent status as a fugitive from justice - Sosia and Hisin Deep-Raed bowed out when they heard the details, but Adryn ended up offering to help Varvur clear his name despite herself (and quite possibly due to an unfortunately similar experience in her own past, although she's been doing her best to fight off flashbacks regarding the matter). Last we checked, she, Varvur, Ajira and Jamie were discussing a plan. We'll see how that's turning out in a bit. But first...

Chapter 10.1

*****

"The city is looking good," Sul said.

I followed his gaze as we walked.

Kogoruhn was bustling. The great doors that led to the inner keep were propped open, letting a steady stream of people travel through. Below the walls, a settlement had sprung up, a small city of tents and yurts and even the occasional small shell-house. Those last must have been brought here by strider, for those who wanted a slightly more permanent residence and yet couldn't face the dark, winding corridors and claustrophobic rooms in the depths of the fortress proper.

I couldn't blame them.

"You don't approve?" Sul, my oldest friend and shield-brother, must have read my thoughts off my face.

I shrugged. "It's hardly my place to approve or disapprove of what clan Dagoth does. And Voryn knows what he's doing, in any case."

"That's not an answer, you know." Sul was looking at me steadily. Well, I supposed he deserved better than the sort of non-answer I'd give a Councillor.

"Every time I come back here, I wonder if I'm going to find Kogoruhn has been mysteriously transformed into a Dwemer citadel," I admitted. "I'm beginning to feel I should be inspecting the walls for incursions of metal or an infection of clanking."

Sul stopped. "That's a surprise, coming from the driving force behind our alliance with the Dwemer. I know how much time you spend with Dumac, I'd have thought you-"

"I like them, yes," I interrupted. "More importantly, I think we're stronger together than apart - that fighting each other is pointless and just opens us up to another invasion. The northmen haven't given up on regaining Resdayn." I could feel the truth of that echoing in my bones. "But that doesn't mean we have to become them."

Sul was right: I did spend much time among the Dwemer. Sometimes it was for diplomacy, renewing our alliance, smoothing over conflict and strife. Sometimes it was for knowledge, some of the Dwemer's theories tying neatly into my own interests. Often, of course, for friendship, with Dumac so rarely able to travel these days and me unwilling to resign myself to our only correspondence being through letters. I almost felt as if I spent half my time wandering their underground halls these days...

...none of which meant I belonged there.

"You almost sound like an Urshilaku or Zainsubani sometimes, you know," said Sul. "Warning us of the evils of the settled lifestyle."

"Well, maybe they have a point! I'm not saying I agree with everything they say, but this-" I cast my hands out, indicating Kogoruhn, "nobody dreamed of such settlements before we allied with the Dwemer. And now there are at least five other such citadels being built. Everything is changing so rapidly and I don't believe we've properly considered what such changes might entail-"

Sul held up his hands. "Save it for the council later this afternoon, will you?"

I stopped, rueful. Long years of friendship meant both of us could tell when a friendly argument began to get too serious, when our opinions were too different to be bridged in casual conversation, but I still sometimes got carried away.

"Sorry," I apologised. "It's a subject I feel strongly about."

"I noticed." Sul's voice was dry. "I still don't agree, but we can discuss it properly later. For now, I want to greet Voryn. Are you coming?"

I looked at the dark entrance to Kogoruhn, thought of the dark corridors to Voryn's chambers, and shuddered at the idea of inflicting them on me any earlier than I had to.

"No. I'll make sure to meet him and pay my respects before the start of council, but I want to investigate a little first."

"Investigate?"

"As you so enjoy reminding me, Sul, I have very strong opinions on the move to citadels for someone who's barely spent time around one. I want to look into how the people who have come here live." I gestured at the settlement around us.

"Gathering ammunition to support your pet arguments, you mean. Well. I'll give Voryn your apologies."

Sul turned away towards the entrance to the citadel. I turned in the opposite direction, letting my feet take me through the maze of tents, yurts and shell-houses that had sprung up around Kogoruhn.

This, too, was far more crowded than anything I'd grown up with, a tightly-packed mess of residences, stalls, eateries, smithies, merchants, and any other shop one might imagine. Far more diverse, as well. The main part of the crowd were Chimer, but there were scattered Dwemer, and even a group of Nedic men I suspected to be Alessians. It might be unfair, but given our history with the northmen I couldn't summon much trust for their kin. I eyed the men warily as I passed; they kindly refrained from answering my suspicion by attacking me or announcing their intention to subjugate Resdayn.

Even among the Chimer, I saw a far greater variety than I once did. Here Aran, Kaushtarari and Verelnim brushed shoulders, their clan-markings far subtler than I'd expect and often sharing space with those of clan Dagoth. In lesser numbers, I saw other combinations – Seloth and Telvanni, Omayn and Redoran, Ihinipalit and Redoran, Dunsamsi and Hlaalu... Sotha and my own Indoril.

All buying into this business about Great Houses, then. True, clans had always been made up of more than just the core family – Sul never failed to remind me of his own Alandro if I skipped over this detail, part of Indoril since long before either of us were born – but of late it was on a whole new level. I had as many misgivings about this development as about the movement towards life settled in one place rather than wandering the land.

These misgivings were, I suspected, shared by the few among the crowd making it clear they declared no such allegiance to one of the new "Houses". Those Zainsubani and Urshilaku I saw wore their clan's symbols so clearly and blatantly it was almost ostentatious, with not a scrap of cloth signifying any other.

I'd slowed near an eatery where the smells drifting from it made my mouth water, wondering whether I should stop to fill my belly with food and ears with gossip before the meeting, when I felt a tug at my purse.

My hand snapped out, capturing the miscreant's wrist. "You-"

"Let me go!"

My severe reprimand died on my lips as I turned to see, not the criminal I'd expected, but a skinny boy who couldn't be more than nine years old.

"Let me go, I didn't do anything!" he repeated, tugging at the wrist I still held fast.

I frowned.

I had never had any sympathy for thieves. In the world I'd grown up in, all was shared out according to need, no clan member abandoned. Stealing broke that accord, the thieves enriching themselves at the expense of their clanmates, deciding their wants were more important than the needs of the clan's children, of the hunters, the Wise Woman. Such selfishness and dishonesty could not be tolerated and was rightly punished with exile.

Once again, I was reminded this was not the world I'd grown up in. Judging by his skinny frame, this boy was certainly not being taken care of by his clan.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"What's it to you?" the boy demanded, but after a moment of my silence – and another fruitless attempt to free himself from my grasp – he gave in. "Vivec, I'm called."

No clan name? My frown deepened.

Abandoned children were not unknown even in my childhood. However, when Indoril ran across one, we either took them in or – if times were too lean for another mouth – gave them the mercy of a quick death. How was it that this child had been left clanless, left – clearly – to scrape and scavenge and steal in order to make a living, in the middle of the abundance I saw around me?

"I didn't do nothing to you and you've got no call to be keeping me-"

"Hey! Nerevar!"

(-distant surprise, something unexpected, jarring. For a moment the scene dims, wavers, like a dream on the edge of waking-

The moment passes.)

I turned my head. Mannanalit Yan-Ilu was standing in the entrance to the eatery, hand on her dagger.

My captive stopped struggling in my grasp.

"What's going on over there?"

"I seem to have caught myself a pickpocket," I called back to my old friend.

"That scrap?" Her eyes swept over Vivec. She frowned, apparently not liking the results of her inspection. "Hey, kid-"

"Nerevar?" burst from the kid in question. "You mean- you don't mean Indoril Nerevar?"

"That's right, kid," Yan-Ilu answered before I could. "You just tried to steal from the Hortator himself, the greatest hero of our people."

"Stop it," I said with some asperity. It was bad enough being faced with hero-worship from children like Vivec, I didn't need it from Yan-Ilu, especially considering- "You were right there with me through half of it, you should know better than to be impressed by wild tales."

"Who said anything about wild tales?" Yan-Ilu shot back. Then she relented. "Ah, whatever. Don't look so shocked, kid. He's a soft touch, really. For example, kid or no kid – if you'd tried to steal my purse, you'd be shorter a hand by now. Nerevar here, on the other hand, is – if I don't miss my guess – thinking of buying you lunch."

I shot Yan-Ilu a look. "Is that so wrong? As you so kindly reminded me, I've been named protector of our people. All our people. In a case like this, it's my duty to step in."

"And that's why you're a hero, you idiot." Yan-Ilu sighed and shook her head. "Apparently it's catching, too. I can afford two freeloaders – lunch is on me today. What do you want, kid? Your options at the Alit's Maw today are ash yam and guar stew or roast nix-hound haunch, with sujam-" Yan-Ilu looked Vivec up and down and clearly thought the better of what she'd been about to say, "-wick water or comberry juice. The stew turned out quite nicely, if I do say so myself."

I blinked. I hadn't realised Yan-Ilu had abandoned the netch herds her husband had left her to open an eatery in Kogoruhn. But now that I looked, I saw it – the scarab of Dagoth sewn on her breast, embroidered larger than the fishing-spear of Mannanalit.

My old friend who'd fought side-by-side with me was among the many who were giving up their old lifestyle to move to the citadels... giving up their independence to declare allegiance to a larger clan. I wished I could ask her about it, why she'd made such a choice, but right now was definitely not the time.

"...stew? You catch- claim I'm stealing, and you give me food?" Young Vivec sounded deeply suspicious, and I felt my anger rise at whatever had taught the boy distrust at such an age.

Losing my temper wouldn't help in this situation, I reminded myself firmly. It'd only serve to frighten the boy off, when we'd only just reached the point where I felt I could let go of his wrist without fear that he'd bolt. No, this was a time to be the calm, reasonable Hortator. It wasn't a role that came easily to me, but I'd spent a lot of time practicing recently.

...although if I ever met the clan who'd abandoned Vivec so cruelly, I doubted "calm" or "reasonable" would be on the horizon.

"You hard of hearing, kid? Got hit on the head too many times?" I knew Yan-Ilu well enough to know the distrust in Vivec's voice must be hitting her as hard as me, but her voice was as cheerful as ever. Well, she'd always been a better actor than me. (This was admittedly not very difficult, at least according to Sul, who'd claimed since we were children that those who were better actors than me included the vast majority of both Chimer and Dwemer populations, most northmen, a significant portion of local wildlife and the odd rock.)

"No!" Vivec protested. "I just-"

"You look like you're worried I've poisoned the stew. Let me tell you, kid," Yan-Ilu propped her hands on her hips, "if I wanted to get rid of a scrap like you, I wouldn't go to near that much effort. And I'm insulted that you could think I'd use poison. Stab you in the back, sure, or use magic, but poison? I have a reputation as a cook to defend, you know!"

A smile flickered across Vivec's face. For a brief moment, he looked as innocent and care-free as any of my young cousins in Indoril.

"But if you're really worried, I'm sure Nerevar would be willing to taste-test."

"Absolutely," I said. "The stew sounds excellent, my friend. I'll have that and a wick water. Vivec?"

It took a little more coaxing, but eventually we had Vivec seated at one of the tables outside the eatery, a large bowl of stew in front of him which he devoured industriously. I sat back, sipping my wick water, and watched Yan-Ilu engage him. The boy looked as if he'd momentarily forgotten the idea of getting up and fleeing, which was a definite improvement. Probably best I keep out of it – my friend seemed to have things well in hand, and the odd awed glance Vivec shot me made it clear he hadn't got past Indoril Nerevar, Hortator of the Council, the hero who drove the Nords from Resdayn yet.

One thing was for sure: I'd certainly found some "ammunition for my pet cause", as Sul had put it, on this trip. I planned on informing the council of the details. At length.

*****

Next

Notes: Everyone, say hi to tiny!Vivec! This portrayal is nowhere in canon, I admit, but it's not as if I have particularly much to go on. (What are you saying Sermons of Vivec la la I can't hear you! ...although I suspect Yan-Ilu, who you may have noticed basically grabbed this entire section and ran off with it with me chasing futilely, is the basis for the netchiman's wife.)

I may have torn my hair out over this section slightly, because linguistics. There's pretty clearly two distinct linguistic groups in Dunmer names – the standard "Dunmeris" names (ex.: Varvur Sarethi, Ervesa Romandas, Ranis Athrys, Marayn Dren, ...Adryn, etc.) versus Ashlander names which seem to be Daedric in origin (e.g.: Urshilaku, Erabenimsun, Zainsubani, Minabibi Assardarainat, Shabibael, Hanarai Assutlanipal, etc). In-game, I find this pretty cool. In a flashback where I'm positing the Ashlander/Great Houses divide is just beginning, it's really frustrating. At this point, I expect that either the future-Ashlander tribes all have Dunmeris names, or the future-Great Houses have Daedric names, and one of the groups ends up changing their names to distance themselves from the other. However, since we don't know what those original names might be, I have to go with those familiar to players despite the fact that they imply a greater division than should really exist yet! *grumpy*

...I take the notion of fictional linguistic accuracy to new and absurd heights, is what you should take from the previous paragraph. Just be happy none of you are following me in the Tolkien fandom...

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Mar 30 2016, 10:03 PM

[Acadian]

’She sounded almost like Mistress Mauripelle in Acatta Caristia's novels...’

A splendid interrogation by Jamie. Well, except for the ‘help’ from Adryn.


Little Vivec stealing from Indoril Nerevar? Never touched Morrowind but those names ring a bell even for me!

[Kazaera]

@Acadian - Adryn is certain that this interrogation would have ended in ruin and disaster without her able assistance in dealing with Varvur! Jamie is... too polite to tell me her real opinion of that.

And I'm glad you liked "Acatta Caristia"! Sneaking popular authors into Tamriel is surprisingly fun, so you might want to keep an eye out for more of them.

Last installment, one (1) Indoril Nerevar, Hortator of the Council, met one (1) Vivec, clanless street kid, at Kogoruhn by virtue of having his pocket picked. Somehow, that version never made it into the Sermons of Vivec. Now, back to Adryn...

Chapter 10.2
*****

The Breton woman's blue robes were dusty and spotted with inkstains. Her hair was coming loose from its braid and falling into her face, while smudges of ink on her cheeks showed previous, ineffectual attempts to keep it out of the way. In short, she was the classic image of an absent-minded scholar to such a degree where I briefly wondered whether she was faking it.

"Excuse me, are you Edwinna Elbert?" I asked, then winced guiltily as the woman started upright. Apparently she'd been so absorbed in her perusal of - I craned my head - Fire and Faith by someone called Nchunak that she hadn't heard my approach.

"Yes, that's me. And who would you be?"

"I'm Adryn," I introduced myself. "I joined the guild at Balmora last week," Nine, had it really been less than a week? "I'm an alchemist."

"Ah! So you're working with Ajira, then." Edwinna gave me what I suspected was, for her, a look that was unusually focused for being directed at a person rather than a book. Ajira really seemed to have a lot of people looking out for her. I didn't begrudge her, I just really hoped this conversation wouldn't go the same way as the last. "I haven't had the time to visit Balmora in absolute ages. Tell me, how is she doing?"

I pondered the honest answer of Perfectly fine, except for the wanted fugitive hiding out at her place playing cards with her eight-year-old nephew and the fact that I think he's trying to infect the boy with his lichen-brained notions of 'honour', then discarded it. "She's doing well. Making good progress on her research - she finished one report on alchemical properties of the mushrooms of the Bitter Coast just a few days ago and is working on another about the flora of the Ascadian Isles."

Since my plan, such as it was, could only be put into motion during the afternoon, we'd had some time to catch up and experiment with the flowers Ervesa had sent me that morning. We'd been quite successful on both fronts - I'd found myself reassured that Varvur staying at Ajira's, an idea we'd hit upon late enough last night I hadn't had the energy to argue it, seemed to be working out better than I'd feared, and Ajira had been busy writing up our results when I'd left.

"Excellent!" Edwinna's smile lit up her face. "I'm glad to hear she's well. I'd have liked to train her myself, but she didn't want to move to Ald'ruhn and I don't work in alchemy at all." I tucked that piece of information away. "Now, why were you looking for me?"

"I have a delivery for you. From Jobasha - here."

The instant the oilcloth-wrapped bundle was in her hands, I felt myself relax as though a huge weight had fallen from my shoulders. Considering events it was hardly a surprise that I'd been more focused on other things over the last few days, but all the same I hadn't realised how much the book Jobasha had given me to deliver - and its accompanying threat - had been dragging at me. There, I told an imaginary Jobasha silently, see? Tirdas, just as promised, when professional couriers would break down in tears at the obstacles I encountered on the way. Imaginary Jobasha nodded gravely, I hoped in approval.

Edwinna's eyes lit up when she unwrapped the book. "Chronicles of Nchuleft! I've been looking for that for months! Jobasha is truly a pearl among booksellers. Here, for your trouble." She pressed a ten-drake coin into my hand. "Was there anything else?"

Technically, there was - Trebonius' idea of a suitable task for a junior member, and Malven's resulting order that I attach myself to Edwinna as a Dwemer scholar. However, judging by the way Edwinna was regarding her new acquisition (in much the way I might regard a new kind of flower, or a prisoner in Imperial City food that was actually fit for consumption) this was probably not the best of times. It's really better to ask people things like that when they aren't clearly trying to develop telepathic abilities in order to force you to go away.

And, of course, I had other things to do in Ald'ruhn.

"No, that's all."

Edwinna nodded absently, eyes focused on her new book, as I made myself scarce.

*****

The buildings of Ald'ruhn were even more striking up close, and I found myself glad that Varvur wasn't with me because I would have been hard-put to affect nonchalance. Shell-houses loomed all around me, dominated by the giant emperor of a crab I'd spotted the day before. Up close it was even more eye-wideningly large, looking big enough to encompass the entirety of Seyda Neen with room to spare.

"It's Skar, outlander," a passing Dunmer said. She must have noticed me staring. "It's even larger inside - most of it is buried. Impressive, no?" She sounded proud.

"I'll say." My hand went to the scarf wrapped around my head to make sure it was secure.

When I'd mentioned being worried that Venim might be watching for me, Varvur had informed me (with what I felt was more relish than strictly necessary) that among Dunmer, my appearance was really quite nondescript apart from my hair. He'd suggested this method of disguising it, claiming it was a common fashion in Ald'ruhn. I'd been dubious - in my experience, nobility are frequently somewhat, shall we say, out of touch when it comes to normal people - but the woman who'd spoken to me was similarly attired, as were enough people around us to show that Varvur had been right. I immediately resolved never to let him know.

At any rate, once I'd managed to stop gawking at Ald'ruhn I realised that my goal was almost next door to the Mages' Guild. Luckily so, because I'd noticed dark grey clouds gathering above the city. They didn't look quite like rain-clouds, but their size and colour - along with the wary looks other passersby shot at them - made me want to hurry all the same.

Once inside the Rat in the Pot, I shook the ash that had gathered even over such a short distance from my shoes. The traces of more ash in the entranceway along with neat piles of the stuff to the side showed that my current activity was one that occurred frequently in this area, but that someone armed with a broom had declared war against its effects.

Further inside, the Rat in the Pot was surprisingly comfortable, especially for being in a place that us small fleshy creatures would once only have encountered during dinner - as in, during a giant crab making us into its dinner. A central stalk that descended from the ceiling had been turned into a hearth in which a fire crackled merrily. Carpets lay over the floor, making it far easier to ignore exactly what you were walking on, and there were stairs and tables scattered about, as well as a bar with barstools against the opposite wall. I made my way towards it.

Despite the early hour, I noticed, there were a surprising number of customers. A whole group at that nearby table, involved in conversation-

"-see, I told you it'd be easy!"

...why was that voice familiar?

With a sinking heart, I identified the speaker as Allding, holding forth to an Argonian and an Orc. The Orc was smaller than most of his kind and clad in simple dark clothing, as was the Argonian, as were... suspiciously many people in this building, as a matter of fact, especially considering they were exactly the sort of thing I'd use as 'working clothes': mottled dark greys that blended into the shadows, soft and fitted to minimize unfortunate rustle...

Oh, Alduin devour it all.

Had I actually just wandered into another Thieves' Guild headquarters? What had I done in a previous life to deserve for this to keep happening to me?

While I was trying to force my frozen legs to move, Allding's eyes flicked over to me... and past, with no sign of recognition.

I relaxed.

Nondescript, was it? I could work with that.

*****

Next

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Apr 3 2016, 08:56 PM

[Acadian]

Oh my. Your opening paragraph – specifically, the description of Edwinna - was spectacular. I could not only picture her perfectly, but found myself enviously taking notes on your style.

This was followed by the wonderful internal and external dialogue that Adryn shared with us as to her business there – a delight to read, as ever.

Ascadian Isles. Sounds like home!

Heh, I remember the first time I read a fanfic here where the author mentioned the Rat in the Pot. I gushed how cleverly creative they were only, of course, to be gently informed by the author that they would forward my compliment to BethSoft. So that is how I learned that there really is a Rat in a Pot in Morrowind.

Well, it seems like the advice Adryn got to hood her hair nondescriptly turned out to be sound.

[Grits]

Oh my gosh, little Vivec! Loved it.

Always a delight to spend time with Adryn.

[Kazaera]

@Acadian - you're making me blush, you know! I'm glad you like Edwinna's description, she's another character that I have a very firm idea of and I'm very happy that came across! And yes, I must confess that the Rat in the Pot is not my invention. It's a great name, isn't it?

Re: Ascadian Isles... Acadian, do you want to tell us something?

@Grits - I'm very glad you liked little Vivec! I was worried about him because it's something of a departure from the info given in the game, but I need to flesh out Nerevar and the Tribunal (why should be obvious by now) and I just refuse to base all that on the Sermons of Vivec. REFUSE.

Last chapter, Adryn went investigating in Ald'ruhn in hopes of proving Varvur's innocence. This went slightly awry almost immediately, as it turns out that the place she decided to begin investigating was the headquarters of the Ald'ruhn Thieves Guild, and in particular the main haunt of one Allding, Nord thief she last met in Venim manor and would really rather prefer to never clap eyes on again, thank you very much. Thankfully for her, her disguise kept her unrecognised. Let's see if that stays the case...

Chapter 10.3
*****

"Are you planning to order anything?"

I blinked, torn out of my thoughts by the frowning publican, and said the first thing that came to mind. "A wick water, please."

Wick water? Where had that come from?

But the woman was nodding and reaching behind the bar. I shrugged - I must have heard it somewhere, maybe in the Eight Plates that first night. It's amazing what bubbles up from the depths of your mind when you're under stress.

Wick water turned out to be something similar to the roasted barley tea I was familiar with from Skyrim, only made from a grain I didn't recognise, served cold instead of hot and sweetened with something I took a moment to recognise as scrib jelly. All in all, I decided my subconscious had chosen well.

The plan – which probably didn't deserve the name, but had at least been enough to stop Jamie's talk about returning to the Legion – was for me to settle down with a book and wait for Galtis Guvron to show; Varvur had assured me he always turned up during the course of the afternoon. I stuck with it, but my fingers trembled on the pages and I kept my head firmly averted from Allding. Luckily, he didn't seem inclined to pay me much attention, instead holding court among what must be his guildmates.

"-blundered into my operation." he was saying right now. "And then insisted on coming along – as if it's a sight-seeing trip!"

Wait a minute. This was sounding horribly familiar... except that if he was really referring to what I thought he was, this was a distorted version of events to say the least.

"Nine preserve us from amateurs," the Orc said. "Did you at least get a good haul?"

Allbraggart shook his head. "Sadly, no. That – girl – was so incompetent she alerted not only the guards, but Venim himself! It was only due to quick thinking and skill that I managed to get away."

I reminded myself firmly that walking over there and telling Allliar exactly what I thought of him would not be keeping a low profile, and was therefore highly inadvisable.

Really.

"Probably someone who couldn't cut it in the guild proper," said a nearby Altmer. "And thinks butting into the business of real thieves and trying to show off will get her an in."

Allhotair nodded, stroking the pathetic tufts on his chin that did not qualify as a beard. If only I could go over there and tell him that it made him look like an idiot, but that that was all to the good since "an idiot" was in fact the sum total of what he was, the underlying truth of his existence reflected in every single thing he thought and did. It was only fair to warn those unfortunate enough to find themselves in his vicinity about this fact-

Keep control of yourself, Adryn.

I gritted my teeth and took out the two Dwemer texts I'd purchased at Jobasha's. Keep a low profile. Do not draw attention to yourself in the middle of the local thieves' guildhall by, for instance, wandering over to a certain Nord-shaped mass of stupidity's table and yelling at him at length. You are a simple scholar, here only to wet her throat and get out of the Mages Guild for a bit. You had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with certain events at Bolvyn Venim's manor two days ago.

The first book, Antecedents of Dwemer Law, proved rather a rather dry discourse on similarities between the Dwemer and Altmer legal systems. Ordinarily I'd have tried to slog through it, but given the level of... distractions and temptations... in my surroundings, I figured that might prove a bad idea. Luckily, Ruins of Kemel-Ze not only proved far more engaging, its very bigoted author also gave me a safe target for my rage. I was firmly engrossed and muttering imprecations against Nordssen's attitude towards Dunmer when the publican's voice broke my concentration.

"Ah, Galtis! Good to see you, how's business?"

I glanced up from my book just in time to see a somewhat plump Dunmer with thinning black hair make a beeline for the bar.

Wait, was he-

I kept my eyes firmly fixed on my book, barely able to believe my luck, as he sat down some two barstools away.

"Excellent, my dear Lirielle! The wares my new partner's been supplying me with sell like scrib pies at New Year's."

My ears perked as Guvron shucked his cloak and set his pack on the stool between us.

"I'm glad to know someone's doing well, at least." The publican - Lirielle, I supposed - sounded a little disgruntled. "I don't suppose you'd let me in on your secret? You're very mysterious about these new wares of yours, and I've got Hard-Heart's boot-lickers circling like vultures."

"Ah, my partner's very... particular. I don't think you'd like her. And I don't think our wares would suit you, either. I've got something right here which I think would suit you much better, mind..."

Guvron opened up his pack and withdrew an amulet, which he presented to Lirielle. He left the pack open.

All right, fate was clearly trying to make up for some of the things it had been heaping on me lately.

"Trying to woo me while my brother's not here, is that it?" Well, both Lirielle and Guvron seemed distracted. I turned my head slightly to see what he had with him.

I couldn't see anything like the statue Varvur had described. Mostly his pack seemed to contain cheap jewellery - similar to the amulet Guvron was trying to clasp around Lirielle's neck while she, laughing, fended him off - along with what looked like several folded linen shirts. There were also a few slim books, with some loose parchment protruding from between the pages of one of them. A letter, maybe? I could see a few lines of handwriting. I chanced a closer look-

If that wasn't in code, I'd eat my headscarf.

(Which was something I'd really prefer to avoid, given that it was probably the only thing keeping me safely unrecognised right now.)

"Eh? What's this?"

I quickly looked up, afraid Lirielle had caught me being nosy. My luck was in, however – Lirielle's eyes weren't on me, but on a Redguard woman approaching the bar.

A very familiar Redguard woman.

What in Kynareth's name was Jamie doing here? I thought I'd been explicitly clear that I did not need any help here, that in fact other people would most likely only get in the way. I'd taken Jamie for reasonably intelligent – surprisingly so, in fact, given her profession – and even Varvur had claimed to understand the idea after I'd been through with it yesterday.

"Lirielle Stoine?" Jamie asked. She was ignoring me entirely, I noticed with grudging approval.

"That's my name, yes." Lirielle sounded wary. The friendly woman who'd served me my wick water and had been joking with Guvron had vanished, leaving a stone-faced stranger.

"Lobrumol gro-Aglakh sent me, from the Fighter's Guild. It's about a debt-"

"What. Did you. Say?"

The growl sounded like it should come from a bear, not a small Breton woman. Around us, conversation ground to a halt. I was impressed despite myself when Jamie didn't step back.

"A debt," she repeated, frowning. "He says the deadline for payment is overdue. I might be able to talk him into an extension, but you'd need to make an initial payment-"

"Make an initial payment?" Lirielle's voice rose. "As if I'd give a shaved copper to that s'wit! It's not even my debt and now his lackeys are coming after me-"

Tearing myself away from the unfolding drama, I let an unobtrusive glance drift around the tavern. Every eye was fixed on Jamie and Lirielle. This included Guvron next to me, who was watching the scene with a dark scowl. He looked as though he was tempted to jump in and start defending Lirielle with his fists; I reminded myself firmly that Jamie could take care of herself.

My gaze was drawn back to the letter in Guvron's pack. I found myself torn. The plan had been for me to use certain of my... less than legitimately acquired skills to spy on Guvron, both by eavesdropping and by following him inconspicuously if I didn't find out anything interesting. This would be something of a departure-

But Guvron didn't seem as if he'd let anything more slip to Lirielle, and what were the chances that letter didn't have something to do with Varvur's situation? Why else would a poor pawnbroker who made his living off cheap rings and amulets be receiving encrypted messages?

Besides, that pack, so wonderfully positioned, with the witnesses so beautifully distracted... it was calling to me. Everything had transpired so perfectly, it was as though the universe was begging me to take it off its hands. Who was I to turn down the universe?

When I started packing up, Lirielle shot me a brief glance. I murmured a thank-you, making sure to keep my movements smooth and unhurried and Ruins of Kemel-Ze covering the book - with its suspicious letter - I'd plucked from Guvron's pack. She gave me a distracted nod, then turned back to Jamie.

"You cursed Camonna Tong thugs drove him to-"

By the time I had all my things together and was getting up to leave, she and Jamie had become sufficiently loud and attention-grabbing that I suspected I'd be able to just grab Guvron's pack in full view of everyone with no effort to hide what I was doing and still get away with it. (Not, I told myself sternly, that that was a good idea.) In fact, several of the other patrons were getting up and moving in their direction. One of them was Allding.

I stared at the Nord "thief", remembered the way the events at Venim manor had actually gone in full, agonising detail, and gave in to impulse.

Allbraggart scowled at me when I bumped into him. I mumbled a low apology, making sure to keep my head and face turned away and to keep walking - the very image of a mer in a hurry. After a moment, I heard Allunobservant mutter a curse about people who didn't watch where they were going, followed by his receding footsteps.

Outside, I patted the hard lump under my robes. Forty septims for a glass dagger, hadn't Fasile said? If I could find somewhere to fence it, that would mean no worries about money for a long, long time. I figured it was fair enough revenge for the trouble Allding had caused me.

Besides, I thought virtuously, maybe depriving him of the weapon would teach him not to wave it at innocent passersby. I really had no idea why the Mastermind hadn't tossed him out yet. Or maybe the entire Morrowind guild didn't know how a proper thief behaved.

Back in the Mages' Guild, I found a desk in a quiet corner and looked over my new acquisitions. The book had Poison Song written on the cover - a glance inside showed that it seemed to be the first in a series of novels of some sort. Not particularly relevant, was my guess, although I wasn't going to turn down free bedtime reading.

The letter was an entirely different matter.

ZHPLTWMIWVAMCEKMOSMRLCDYIXLERVXYAAELXWIJWROXZBZAAWPRDXIQIXYKTMXWCEPAZVJIWLSLQYEA
IHDRKDEYTHHYXMYMXNXFDAFIKHTILSMRVXFDOVHGOLVKLVIILZOHOEVUFXSVMRVXYASYRAGASUFWXDHP
DENSWLUSLDIIBMEPEBIKMLHAYEWZMECQEIKMPSFDMAXPCXEKASRVRGFVPDVUOBEWAGLWKFRXXPEAXDQA
WKEKVIIETCWCSRYLAELFIWPVFQNNEDWYYZYERSTCWCOXZXTUMTGOACRJDGMKXSCJPQIBFVNTYOWXWEDZ
ATGSWELOXZBZXAXIECHDWKOWMKLXZPCGPREKTLILKHGWOFEROKKYYYKAVYDOEPAICOEPEAEKSFZXPTXP
KUBWWEMFWNETIYIADKPAOLHGYSXSMJWPZSAGAQWLKEXRUASDVGRALADRSIIYWNKVSB

It seemed I wouldn't have to eat my headscarf after all. Probably for the best - cloth doesn't agree with my stomach.

"Let's see what you're hiding, hmm?"

*****

Next

Notes: Here's a challenge for anyone interested: can you decrypt the letter? I checked and it should be possible. A hint to get you started: this type of encryption is also used elsewhere in-game.

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Apr 10 2016, 10:05 PM