The Story of Trey- Chapter 6 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[treydog]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[treydog]

As I left Caius' place, all I could think of was that this was madness. I had heard that the Emperor's health was failing, but had thought it was a physical illness. And whatever form of insanity this was, it was contagious, for Caius seemed to be afflicted, as well. Perhaps the madness of kings and emperors was always infectious- in effect, if not in fact. But who would tell the Emperor he was insane, particularly after the business with Jagar Tharn? Still, the idea that I might be the reincarnation of some long-dead Dark Elf hero, come to save the land from the great evil.... Didn't these people understand who I was? I was Trey, bastard-born stable-hand and thief from High Rock. I got on well enough with the Dark Elves, at least those who didn't try to kill me before I could introduce myself; but I was no savior. And the "voices in my head" I talked about were just my imagination or maybe my poor, stunted conscience. There weren't really any voices, at least not most of the time. Perhaps I had been having some odd dreams lately, but I was in a new place, eating exotic food, getting entangled with strange beasts and stranger people- strange dreams weren't surprising. Besides, a lot of people were having trouble sleeping- what about those Dunmer that called themselves "Dreamers?" What about Elvil in Suran? Plenty of people were having problems- they just didn't say so because the Temple would lock them up. And there was another thing- if this business got noised about too much, I had no doubt the Temple would find a nice cell for me. No, this was not real- this was madness of the worst kind, an insanity that had afflicted the entire inner circle of the Empire. Someday, sooner rather than later, some poor fool was going to be blamed and called to account for all this with his life. And I had a feeling that the poor fool's name was going to be "Trey."

When you are threatened, you have several options- you can negotiate, you can fight, or you can run. At that moment, it seemed to me that I was threatened as never before. For me to even attempt to fight the Empire was pointless- it would be easier to just jump off a cliff. Negotiation also seemed to be out- Caius had made his desires clear and had not invited discussion. That left flight- I needed to get away from this insanity. I had already stopped using Balmora as a base, so I was somewhat out of Caius' reach. But was Ald'ruhn really any better? House Redoran might shelter me, but what if they discovered that I was a member of the Blades? Or worse, some of my questionable history? They had a very strict code of honor and some rigid notions of proper conduct- some of my actions might lead to expulsion. The Temple was no better- a word to an Ordinator or high priest regarding my purported "identity" and I would find myself trying to answer some difficult questions. Many young people joined the Imperial Legion only a step or two ahead of the law- if they conducted themselves well, all was forgotten. That avenue was closed to me for a variety of reasons- mostly my dislike of Imperials, but more practically because my description would be too well-known. One thing I knew for certain, I was not going to wander into an Ashlander camp and introduce myself as the answer to their dreams and prophecies. I could just picture the scene: "Hello, my name is Trey and I am a Breton from High Rock, an outlander. And, even though you hope and pray that a violent and painful death will come to all outlanders, I am also the Nerevarine. What's for dinner?"

Whoever got the first spear into me would probably become one of their greatest heroes. The Ashlands seemed to be out, then. But wait, someone else had asked me to go see the Urshilaku Wise-Woman.... Folms Mirel, the wizard working on the master propylon index, had asked me to retrieve one of the indices from Nibani Maesa. I could certainly use the 500 drakes he would pay and the Ashlands might actually be a good place to lose myself. If I appeared to be heading off to the Urshilaku like a good little Imperial spy, Caius wouldn't get suspicious. And if I never came back- it was understood that the Ashlands were a dangerous place. Acting as if I were following orders would also allow me to collect the supplies from Fort Moonmoth- and I had a feeling I might need them. My alchemy apparatus would go with me; I would miss my books, but perhaps I could find a suitable place to live and quietly retrieve them. Even if I had to live in a cave or a tent, my books would make it a home. Perhaps I would be lonely, but at least I would be alive to enjoy that loneliness.

There may be some who are surprised by my decision to flee my "destiny." I ask those people to consider several things- my age, my history, my feelings about the Empire, and finally, the circumstances of my arrival in Morrowind. I had spent the first 17 years of my life unloved and unwanted, a slave in all but name. When I finally broke free of that bondage, my plan had been to study alchemy and maybe have an apothecary shop someday. I knew a little about weapons, but did not pretend to be a great warrior. That I had won my fights so far had been due to equal parts fear and anger. And now, as part of some deep game or some symptom of madness, the Emperor wanted me to pretend to be a reincarnated Dunmer general. And it would be pretense- I had never even seen a Dark Elf until I awoke on that ship in Seyda Neen. More, I could not believe that I was the only person of "uncertain parentage" born during Frostfall eighteen years ago. Oh, I understood what the Empire was up to, at least in part. This cult of the Nerevarine would be a constant focus for anti-Imperial sentiment among the Dunmer. If ever someone came along who could get the Great Houses and the tribes to stop squabbling, the Legions would be hard-pressed. And what of the rumors of unrest back in Cyrodiil itself? The consequences of Jagar Tharn's plots had not yet completely spun themselves out. There was even talk of withdrawing the Legions from Morrowind. So this silly scheme was a desperate attempt to salvage the province through deception. It made a certain amount of sense that they couldn't recruit a Dark Elf to play this role- the Tribunal Temple held such power that no Dunmer would dare participate in this sort of madness. And even someone like Elvil, who had truly believed himself to be the Nerevarine, would never dance to the Empire's tune. After all, one of the most basic tenets of the story or "prophecy" was that the Nerevarine would "drive all the outlanders from Morrowind." And that was where the Emperor's little plan for me failed, as well. First, the Dunmer would never accept me as their savior; second, how could an outlander "drive out the outlanders?" No, I had no desire to be a sacrifice upon the altar of Imperial insanity. And a sacrifice I would surely be, with every Dunmer faction or House competing to be the first to spill my blood.

What I needed was a place to hide until this whole mess went away. Time would cure this royal disease, one way or another. They would find some other fool or come up with some other scheme- what mattered was that I survive. But an obvious rebellion on my part would not do. I wouldn't put it past the Empire to tie me up, throw me in a sack, and dump me in the Urshilaku camp with a note saying, "One genuine Grade A Nerevarine. Test him as you will." They had a history of doing that sort of thing to me already. Therefore, I must give the appearance of obedience. My first stop was Fort Moonmoth for the supplies Caius had purchased. The scrolls, at least, were quite fine, including Purity of Body and Warrior's Blessing. I was less impressed with the potions, perhaps because I was so used to making my own. Next, I went to Ald'ruhn to gather the items I could not do without- leaving my growing library was an ordeal I hope never to repeat. Now the question was how best to reach the Urshilaku camp. It was on the north side of the island, near the Sea of Ghosts. It appeared that I could go due north from Maar Gan, but that would bring me awfully close to the Blight. Traveling from Gnisis to Ald Velothi and then following the coast seemed longer, but might be safer. Finally, I asked the strider driver how close I could get to Ald Velothi by boat or silt strider. He replied that the striders went as far as Khuul, which was northeast of Ald Velothi. Better yet, it only cost a few more gold than travel to Gnisis. The coast route suited me- I always got an itchy feeling between my shoulders when I got near the Ghostfence. Also, along the coast, I could use Water Walking to avoid difficult terrain or unfriendly creatures.

The trip was largely uneventful- I avoided a Daedric shrine and fought a few beasts, but managed to mostly stay out of trouble. Before long, I found myself looking down on the Urshilaku camp. It was a small collection of cloth and hide tents in a desolate stretch of the Ashlands near the coast. Before entering the camp, I carefully reviewed everything Hassour had told me, particularly regarding courtesy and gifts. I also made sure that my weapons were sheathed but in plain view- I hoped to convey the concept that I was peaceful but willing to defend myself. The wise-woman was likely to be a revered, almost a sacred, figure- I couldn't just go barging into her presence. Therefore, I approached an Ashlander who was working outside one of the yurts. He glared at me, but respected my peaceful approach. Food was usually is short supply out here; some of my ingredients might serve as introduction gifts. Keeping my hands away from my weapons, I carefully opened my pack and laid out kwama eggs, saltrice, scrib jerky, and trama root. With a gesture and a raised eyebrow, I indicated that the warrior could take what he wanted. He selected a kwama egg and said, "You are courteous and not proud. Though you are an outlander, I welcome you. What do you want?"

I explained that I had come to see the Urshilaku Wise-Woman, Nibani Maesa. He then asked if she had sent for me. Although my devious nature inclined me to say yes, I knew that being caught in an obvious lie would shatter my chances. So I answered honestly and said she had not.

"Then she will not see you. You have wasted your time."

Hoping to build up enough good will, I repeated the process with several other of the Urshilaku, with the same results. All of them politely accepted gifts of food and all told me that Nibani would not see me. Finally, I realized that I would have to take a chance, and so approached the yurt that had been set aside for the wise-woman. I entered and was confronted by a tall woman with braided gray hair. She asked me if I were lost or simply rude and demanded that I leave. This was the tricky part- if she insisted, I would have no choice but to go or else have the whole camp come down on my head. Quickly I said, "Your pardon, mother, but I only wished to offer my respects and to give you a gift."

That stopped her from throwing me out immediately; instead she responded, "A gift? Very well, I like gold. What you outlanders call a 'bribe,' yes?"

This was a language I understood. Considering her importance to the tribe, I decided that offering too little would be insulting and so extended 100 drakes to her. She accepted the money, but then said, "Very well, you have paid your 'respects' and given your gift. Now you can go."

Instead of leaving, I offered her another 100 gold, which proved sufficient to keep her talking. Remembering my purpose in coming here, I inquired about the Valenvaryon propylon index. Nibani explained that one of the hunters had found the oddly-shaped stone in a ruined stronghold and brought it to her. The tribe had no use for such an object, so she was willing to sell it.

The negotiation was quickly over, and that should have been that- my goal was accomplished, now I should seek a place to live. But there was something fascinating about these people. I thought about Hassour, about a people that managed to survive in the Ashlands, and about the dreams that had troubled me. The Ashlanders did not shun people who dreamed- they sought to grasp the hidden meanings, unlock the messages of the dreams. And so I stopped and asked Nibani about my strange dreams. She explained that they were a trick of Dagoth Ur, the Devil and Deceiver, who sought to bend me to his will. She counseled me to resist and to listen to my heart. Then, there seemed to be nothing else to say. I turned and stepped outside, preparing for my self-imposed exile. An ash-laden wind swept through the camp, rattling the bone spirit chimes that hung from the yurts. An even greater desolation swept through me as I looked around the camp. The Urshilaku, who had so little, had each other- they were a family. House Redoran considered me family now, called me "Kinsman." If I walked into the Ashlands, I would also walk away from them. If I let fear rule me, I might live, but what kind of life would I have? Long minutes passed as I stood, the wind from Red Mountain seeming to whisper to me and taunt me. At last, I knew what I had to do. I turned and went back inside the Wise-Woman's tent.

Just because the Emperor and his people had gotten the crazy idea in their heads that I was somehow Nerevar reincarnated didn't make it true. And really, all Caius had told me to do was come up here and get tested. As soon as the Urshilaku stopped laughing long enough to test me, this foolishness would be over. As so often happened, I had run screaming from my fear of the worst that could happen. But since it couldn't possibly be true, I would be able to report back to Caius that it was all a mistake. Nibani Maesa wasn't thrilled to see me again. She gave a long-suffering sigh and asked me how I had managed to get lost so quickly. Hoping to get into the discussion by the side door, I said that I had heard something about the Nerevarine prophecies and wondered if she could tell me more. Her reply was neither friendly nor informative- "I am not surprised you are ignorant. And it is not my place to teach you."

So she was going to make this harder than pulling teeth. Struggling to maintain my composure, I spoke the words that I had feared would doom me, "I fulfill the prophecies and wish to speak with you and Sul-Matuul."

She didn't laugh, she didn't shout, she didn't say anything for what seemed to be a very long time. Instead, she looked deeply into my eyes and even brushed an impersonal hand across my forehead, as if checking for fever. "I do not believe this. You do not look like the Nerevarine. And yet you do not speak as a madman or a fool. Speak to Zabamund in his yurt. He is a gulakhan- Sul-Matuul's champion, and he will decide. If he gives permission, you can enter the Ashkhan's yurt and speak with Sul-Matuul."

That really wasn't the answer I had wanted. I would have preferred if she had called me an idiot and told me to go away. This gulakhan might decide that I needed killing for giving offense to the Urshilaku. Still, I had made up my mind to play this game out- I didn't want to give Caius any reason to believe that I had ducked the mission.

Zabamund's yurt was one of several that were set up close to each other to form a sort of inner area within the main camp. The gulakhan was a stocky, muscular Ashlander, dressed in chitin armor. It was easy to see why he was the Ashkhan's champion- he would be a difficult opponent. Along with the scars of battle, his face showed the intelligence and wisdom necessary for a truly great warrior. Knowing how important a test this was, I first told Zabamund that I wished to offer him a greeting gift. He accepted my offer of gold as suitable and asked me to state my purpose. I replied that I had come to discuss the Nerevarine prophecies with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa. Disbelief plain in his voice, the gulakhan asked, "Why should we speak to you of these things? Who are you, that we should trust you?"

Here, I walked the razor's edge. If I offended the gulkhan, the best I could expect would be to get thrown out. At worst, he might challenge me. And even if I won, I would still lose- the rest of the tribe would finish me. Looking at this great warrior, I did not believe that stories of my epic battles against mudcrabs and nix-hounds would impress him. The key was to prove my seriousness, to show that I was not simply prying into Ashlander secrets. So I related all I knew of the Nerevarine cult and the Sixth House, drawing on all the information I had gathered for Caius. The depth of my knowledge surprised and perplexed Zabamund. Finally, he agreed that I should see Sul-Matuul. Although the Ashkhan might be annoyed with him for passing me on, he believed he could live with that anger.

Sul-Matuul had a commanding presence, not least because of the enchantments that swirled around him. Although he was not a large man, the Ashkhan of the Urshilaku was an imposing figure. The years of seeing to the survival of his people had etched deep lines into his face. After I had entered his yurt, he simply waited for me to explain my presence. When I explained that Zabamund had sent me, he relaxed slightly and said, "That's interesting. Why would he send you to talk to me about the Nerevarine prophecies?"

Remembering my manners, I said, "First allow to offer you a gift out of respect."

That formality out of the way, we settled down to serious negotiations. He noted that an outlander like me could not become a part of the Nerevarine cult and thus could not be told of the prophecies. But then, as I was composing a regretful message explaining my failure to Caius, the Ashkhan added that I could be adopted into the tribe- made a "Clanfriend." If I were named Clanfriend, I would be an Urshilaku and allowed to hear the Nerevarine prophecies. In fact, he had an initiation rite in mind that would prove whether or not I was worthy. If I passed the rite, he would adopt me as a Clanfriend and allow Nibani Maesa to test me. I had a very bad feeling about this "initiation," but didn't see that I had any choice. The only path open to me was to go forward. I just hoped I wasn't walking off a cliff. Steeling myself, I said, "Tell me what I must do."

"You must undergo a harrowing. You will be judged by the spirits of the ancestors. Go to the Urshilaku Burial Cavern and bring me the Bonebiter Bow of Sul-Senipul, my father. His spirit guards the bow deep within the caverns. Bring me this bow and I will name you Clanfriend."

He then gave me directions on how to reach the Burial Caverns. This just got better and better. The Ashlanders weren't even going to bother to kill me themselves, they were going to let their undead ancestors do it. If I haven't mentioned it before, I really don't like tombs. Tombs have dead bodies. And bodies that should be dead and aren't. And those creatures get really upset when you try to take things away from them. The only thing I liked less than the undead was angry undead. Particularly when they were angry with me. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps I would be lucky and get eaten by some nice, normal Blight monster before I ever got to the burial cavern. And perhaps I would succeed and be named Clanfriend. That was the most frightening possibility of all.

[treydog]

To my great disappointment, Sul-Matuul's directions proved easy to follow, and I soon found myself outside the Urshilaku Burial Caverns. Although a part of me quailed at the idea of being named Clanfriend, another part yearned for the sense of belonging that would come with that honor. And I clearly understood that it was an honor- the Ashlanders were even more particular than House Redoran. For the Ashkhan to even consider initiating an outlander was practically unheard of. Perhaps that, even more than my pending confrontation with the Urshilaku undead, was the source of my fear. I had tried to convince myself that the Emperor and Caius were deluded or else attempting a desperate plot when they claimed that I might be the Nerevarine. But Sul-Matuul, who could not be part of any such conspiracy, also saw something in me that made him wonder. And whatever he saw was enough for him to agree to set me a task that could make me a member of the Urshilaku. No khan undertook such a thing lightly. If he lost the faith and support of his people, he would soon lose his head as well. Still, I did not need to run too far ahead of events- even if I recovered the bow, Nibani Maesa's testing could still prove that I was not the Nerevarine. And meanwhile, I would have gained acceptance in a close-knit society, a group of people I admired greatly. My reading and experiences had led me to believe that the Ashlanders were the greatest of the Dunmer, even though they had the least.

Through all the wars and factional squabbles, they had remained true to their heritage and their religion. When it would have been easier to simply give up and become House Dunmer, they fought to preserve the old ways. It might not have been the smartest course nor one likely to guarantee survival, but it was the most honorable. I had to admire that kind of courage. But none of this was getting me any closer to recovering the Bonebiter Bow, so I squared my shoulders, swallowed my fear, and entered the cavern.

The tomb was nearly as bad as I feared- dry, stale air that smelled of age, decay, and something unrecognizable. Mummified warriors sat atop stone columns, guarding the passage, and I wondered if they had been dead or alive when they first took their posts. The burial cavern was clearly designed to discourage and trap any casual looter, with skeleton champions on patrol. I managed to defeat the first several and so reached a break in the stone floor of the passage, on the opposite side of which was a doorway. Apparently, the idea was to prevent anyone from simply walking deeper into the cavern; the intrepid adventurer would have to attempt to leap across the watery gap. In my case, it was simply a matter of imbibing one of my numerous Levitation potions. The markings on the door indicated that it led to the Karma Burial chamber. That section proved to contain still more skeleton champions, as well as a more formidable obstacle course. A series of widely spaced "stepping stones" crossed the large, water-filled chamber. Again, Levitation made movement through the passage a simple matter. A single rat, apparently trapped by the water, barred the door to the next area. That door was marked "Laterus." I thought that if I traveled much further south I would find myself in Maar Gan. Laterus proved to be quite different and, in a way, beautiful. It was a great vertical chamber, filled with waterfalls and rock formations. A rough stone ramp spiraled upward along the left-hand wall. More mummified warriors were perched on small rock ledges jutting from the central pillar. At intervals, doors opened off of the walkway- with the names Fragile, Kefka, Kakuna, and Juno. Sul-Matuul had not specified where his father's spirit might be found, so I decided to fully explore Laterus before venturing into any of the side chambers. I at last reached a dead end at the top and turned back to the uppermost side chamber, which was marked "Juno."

After fighting my way through a number of skeletal guardians, I came into an area where the stonework was quite different. Previously, the caverns has seemed mostly natural, with some evidence of working with primitive tools. But as I went deeper into Juno, finished stone was evident. This area was far older and had been built rather than formed by natural processes. The work appeared to pre-date the Nord invasion of Morrowind. If that were so, this area was old indeed. In the farthest depths of Juno, Sul-Senipul awaited me. Or rather the wraith of the man who had been Sul-Senipul. The spirit was resistant to the magic of my blade and afflicted me with a loss of agility as well as a disease. Fortunately, my own innate resistance to magicka saved me from the worst of the undead ashkhan's attacks. When I had defeated him, he dropped the Bonebiter Bow. I quickly grabbed the artifact and cured my ailments with a couple of potions. I have never regretted the amount of time I devoted to the study of alchemy, and that was one of the main reasons. As I turned to leave that haunted place, I wondered how Sul-Matuul would feel about my victory. Although I hadn't "killed" his father, for Sul-Senipul was already dead, I had defeated his spirit. And the Ashlanders worshipped their departed ancestors. Had this all been an elaborate trap- a way to either kill me outright or to lure me into "defiling" an Urshilaku burial? That might be the case, but I didn't really believe it. I had simply been exposed to too many Imperial intrigues- I was seeing plots everywhere. While Sul-Matuul was an intelligent man, he was not devious. His instincts and actions were those of a hunter, but not a spy. While he might take an oblique approach when stalking his prey, he would not use an unwitting stranger as bait. If he had wanted me dead, he would have challenged me in front of everyone. No, even though this had been a test, it was a fair one.

Speculation was pointless- I would learn the reality as soon as I returned with the bow. Now, it was time to leave these halls of the dead. Perhaps there were great treasures buried there; perhaps, if I had stumbled on the cavern by accident, I would have searched for them. But my purpose here had only had one object, to gain the respect and approval of the Urshilaku. I had not gone into those tombs as a thief- I would not leave as one. Let the dead keep their treasures. Of far greater value to me would be the bond I established with the Ashlanders. When I entered Sul-Matuul's tent, he immediately recognized the bow of his father. He made me a gift of the weapon and then honored his promise to name me Clanfriend. Finally, he instructed me to speak with Nibani Maesa about being tested against the Nerevarine prophecies. My odyssey in the burial caverns had just been a preliminary. Now the real trial would begin. And I still wasn't sure how I wanted this testing to turn out. As much as I feared the answers, I knew that the time for the questions had come.

Now that I had been named Clanfriend, Nibani Maesa was much more willing to discuss the Nerevarine prophecies. She explained that there were many prophecies, with many possible meanings. Among them were- the Moon-and-Star, aspect and uncertain parents, sleepers, the seven curses, the Stranger, the Seven Visions, and even the lost prophecies. After reciting that list, she stated: "You may ask me of these things. If you are wise. Or, if you are impatient, you may simply ask 'Do I pass the test of the prophecies?' Ask your questions and I will answer."

First, because this concerned my life and whatever future I might hope to have and second, because I would have found this material fascinating in any circumstances, I asked the wise woman to tell me all that she could. I will not attempt to detail all of her responses here; there are now many books which relate the prophecies for those who are interested. Two things I will touch upon at this time- the lost prophecies and whether I passed the test. Some of the prophecies regarding the "return" of Indoril Nerevar had been lost over time. In some cases, this was due to accident or death- the knowledge of the Ashlanders was carried and passed on by the wise-women. Other prophecies seemed to have been suppressed on purpose, but what that purpose was, she could not say. Her answers regarding my place in all this puzzled and relieved me at the same time. She told me, "You are not the Nerevarine, yet you may become so. If you chose to follow this path, then seek out the lost prophecies among the Dissident Priests of the Temple. Bring these lost prophecies to me and I will be your guide."

As she spoke, I made written copies of The Stranger and The Seven Visions. When she had concluded the prophecies, Nibani said, "Think on what I have told you. And do what must be done."

Through this ordeal, I learned something very important- adventures happen to other people. When it is happening to you, it is not an adventure, it is something you endure. Reading about a great journey or an epic battle in a book is pleasant, exciting, even enlightening. Undertaking that journey or fighting that battle yourself is usually sweaty, bloody, smelly, altogether unpleasant. Somehow, the scribes always managed to leave the ugly parts out. Of course, if they told the truth, no more young fools would be enticed to leave home and become adventurers. And then, what would the scribes write about in their comfortable, well-lit rooms? No one wants to read the story of Trey, who single-handedly shoveled out the stables every day for 20 years. But then again, the product of the stables and the product of the scribes are remarkably similar. Knowing that did not solve my problem, however. My mind was almost overwhelmed by questions- how could this be possible? What would I do now? How would I find these Dissident Priests? Nibani had talked as if I had a choice as to whether or not to follow the path of the Nerevarine. But then she had said, "Do what must be done." That was a terrible thing to say to someone. How was I supposed to even know "what must be done?"
Although I really didn't want to, I knew that I needed to report back to Caius. He had set this whole thing in motion at the instigation of the Emperor; he could figure out what came next. And maybe he would have some idea of how to find these Dissident Priests.

Although it would have been easier to simply Recall to Ald'ruhn, I decided to move the locus for my Mark to the Urshilaku camp. The cities could be reached by strider, guild guide, or Almsivi Intervention. The only way to reach the camp was by a long walk over inhospitable terrain. From the way Nibani had talked, I would be making that journey frequently for the foreseeable future. With my Mark relocated, I cast Almsivi Intervention and arrived outside the Temple at Gnisis. The sight of the crab-shell structures served as a reminder- I had an obligation to serve House Redoran, as well. Perhaps after I delivered my report to Caius and collected my reward for the Valenvaryon propylon index from Folms, I would return to Ald'ruhn. Generally, the duties Neminda had given me were uncomplicated and did not present me with such dilemmas.

When I told Caius of the events in the Urshilaku camp, he was nearly as surprised as I had been. He promised to ask Mehra Milo about the Dissident Priests- she would be likely to know if they had any of the lost prophecies and, possibly, how to find them. Then his demeanor changed and he told me that he had a "very tough" task in mind. He asked me if I was ready and I responded that I was willing to try, but preferred to proceed cautiously. That answer pleased the spymaster and he admitted that caution would be necessary. He gave me 400 drakes and told me to purchase potions, training, or gear- whatever I felt would help me. He also counseled me to take this particular job slowly. All these warnings were making me nervous- Caius usually gave the impression that I could sink or swim- it was all the same. The assignment was to raid a Sixth House base near Gnaar Mok, kill a Sixth House priest there named Dagoth Gares, and bring back a full report. It seemed that a patrol from Fort Buckmoth had investigated a cavern called Ilunibi and been nearly wiped out. A Legion Champion named Raesa Pullia had more details. Something in Caius' expression told me there was more that he wasn't telling me. When I pressed him, he added that only one member of the patrol had survived, and that poor trooper had been infected with corprus disease, which was both horrifying and untreatable. A person so afflicted was beset with abnormal growths and soon became an unrecognizable monster. And now, Caius wanted me to go in and succeed where an entire Imperial Legion patrol had failed. Now, I will be the first to admit that I have often expressed my contempt for the Legion. But that contempt is generally reserved for the barely adequate way they function as law-enforcement. Even I don't question their ability to fight. If an entire patrol was beaten- with all but one man killed- there was something very bad indeed in Ilunibi. Caius wanted me to go find out what the very bad something was. Why couldn't he ask me to do something simple, like take on a whole bunch of Malacath-worshippers with a stick?
This was very much a situation where my sense of duty conflicted with my sense of self-preservation. My work with alchemy had brought me into contact with some virulent poisons and some equally powerful diseases. But all of those could be cured with the right spell or potion, provided it was administered in time. Corprus was not curable- the victims were locked up for their own protection and for the protection of others. The eventual outcome of the disease was madness. And that madness came as a great relief to the victim. Caius wanted me to do this, but he hadn't specified exactly when. I quickly decided to take advantage of that oversight and do some more work for House Redoran before I again tempted fate. Besides the lesson that adventures happened to other people, I was learning that belonging to a family wasn't just a matter of having a seat at the dining table. You also had to occasionally make sure that there was something there to eat. Or that there was a table at all.

The Urshilaku wise woman had told me to "...do what must be done." Caius wanted me to investigate a Sixth House base that had destroyed all but one member of an Imperial Legion patrol and left the survivor infected with corprus. Nibani also wanted me to find the Dissident priests and the lost prophecies. Someone, maybe more than one, wanted me dead. Everyone, it seemed wanted something from me. And most of those things involved my risking what I wanted- which was to stay alive. No one had asked me what I thought of all this, which was probably just as well. In my current state of mind, I would have told them. As had become my habit, I decided to work on alchemy as a way of giving my mind a chance to rest. I wasn't going to solve anything by running in all directions at once. Also, it had been some time since I had rested. Even using magical travel to get back from the Ashlands was wearying. Sleeping in a bed was a luxury to which I had become accustomed. Sleep came, and with it, perhaps the strangest dream so far. Again, I was confronted by the tall, gold-masked figure; again it spoke to me. The difference was, this time, I could hear the words clearly. In fact, they were so clear that I remembered them precisely when the dream ended and I suddenly awoke. Such was the power of that voice that the words are clear to me even today- "Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur! Steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain. Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind."

So, there was one more power in the land that wanted something of me. Even without Nibani Maesa's words of warning, I would have resisted that call. Red Mountain stood in the heart of the Blight, home of diseased and deadly creatures. I would sooner climb the mountains of the moons than that deadly peak. Still, the sleep and the alchemy had served their purpose- I had made a decision. Up until now, I had tried to serve too many masters- the Thieves Guild, Mages Guild, Blades, even the Temple. But House Redoran was my family- they commanded my ultimate loyalty.

When I had returned to the Redoran Council Hall, I sensed a tension in the air. Groups of guards and Redoran retainers met, held whispered conversations, and parted. No one seemed willing to say anything to me about the source of all this activity- although I had risen in the House, I was still an "outlander" to many of them. Even Neminda did not want to say much; instead she asked me to again assist Drulene Falen. This time the guar-herder was having problems with bandits stealing her guar. Although I had hoped for a more challenging assignment, one that might bring me to the attention of one of the councilors, I understood that I still had to prove myself. Meanwhile, I had to wonder about the sanity of any bandits who would steal guar. They aren't exactly easy to hide. One of the first lessons I had learned was to not steal anything that you couldn't carry easily. Even though guar could "carry themselves," they were difficult to put in your pocket. When I reached Drulene's camp, she said that the tracks indicated that the missing animals had been driven to the west, toward the coast. The bandits, or rather the missing guar, proved easy to find. They were grazing outside of the Telvayn Tomb. No bandits were in evidence outside, so it appeared that I would have to go into the tomb to find them. Fortunately, there were no undead guardians, and the bandits proved to be as bad at fighting as they were at stealing. I did manage to find a copy of a rare book, Hallgerd's Tale, so the trip was worthwhile in more ways than one. Upon my return to Ald'ruhn, I got the opportunity I had wanted to meet a councilor, just not in a way I had expected.

After I reported my successful bandit hunt to Neminda, she told me that Athyn Sarethi had been threatened and needed a guard. He was one of the Redoran councilors, and had been a particular friend of Neminda's father. He had received word that an assassination attempt was going to be made and didn't know which of the guards could be trusted. Therefore, he had asked Neminda to recommend someone reliable. Sarethi was in his manor under Skar, and Neminda urged me to go there as soon as possible- the danger was pressing. Upon arrival, I saw that the attack was already underway- two Redoran guards lay dead in the entry hall. When I approached the councilor, he asked me to stay alert- he feared that more assassins were somewhere on the premises. Almost before he finished speaking, two Dunmer burst through the door and charged toward Sarethi. Without conscious thought, I positioned myself between him and the attackers. Balked from reaching their target, the assassins turned their attention to me. Although I took a number of wounds from their short blades, my enchanted sword proved stronger and they fell before me. More important, I had prevented them from reaching their target. When I examined the bodies, I discovered that both wore a blood-red stone on the left lapel, a symbol of the Morag Tong. Someone, almost certainly from a Great House, had issued a writ for Athyn Sarethi, which might explain some of the tension I had sensed. Councilor Sarethi thanked me and asked me to return to Neminda and let her know that he was safe. The Redoran drillmaster expressed her relief, adding a cryptic remark about the Sarethi family already having "enough trouble." She then paid me 200 drakes, the standard rate for a guard assignment, and informed me that it was time seek sponsorship from one of the House councilors. Considering that Athyn Sarethi now owed me his life, I didn't have to think very hard about which councilor to approach.

When I asked Athyn for his support, I found out what Neminda had meant about the Sarethi family's "trouble." It appeared that the Redoran Archmaster, Bolvyn Venim, was holding Athyn's son, Varvur, hostage, claiming he had committed a crime. The elder Sarethi was convinced that his son was innocent and that this was a political move. If I could rescue Varvur, the councilor promised that he would sponsor me. Varvur was being held in Venim Manor, awaiting "private justice," which sounded suspiciously like a way for Venim to ensure getting the verdict he wanted. With my own similar experience of "justice" fresh in my mind, I was favorably inclined to attempt the rescue. And I also had a feeling that I wasn't going to like Bolvyn Venim. Athyn explained that, because of the laws of the Redoran regarding sanctuary, Varvur would be safe if I could get him back to Sarethi Manor. He may not have realized it, but Athyn Sarethi had picked one of the best possible people to steal his son out from under the nose Venim and his guards. And I decided that it was just as well not to burden a concerned father with too many details about how I was going to do it.

From the furnishings of Venim Manor, Bolvyn was clearly doing well. Also, his guards wore Dwemer armor, an expensive affectation. Equally interesting as the expense of such armor was the fact that possession of those artifacts was supposed to be illegal, at least in the eyes of the Empire. I had to wonder what kind of Redoran councilor would so publicly flout the law. As I thought all of this, I kept moving deeper into Venim Manor, making no effort to hide. Finally, in the right wing, I found a note and a key lying on a bench. The note concerned a "special guest," who was to be kept locked in a room hidden behind a tapestry and guarded continually. As the guard was standing right there, I left the note and key where they were and looked for the hidden door. Once I found it, I had reason to appreciate Venim for being half-smart. He anticipated that Athyn Sarethi might try a rescue, but assumed he would do it in the Redoran way- straight ahead with no deception. He hadn't counted on a thief, who could use the concealing tapestry as cover to pick the lock. Once the door was open, I found myself facing a younger version of Athyn Sarethi. Besides his father's looks, the boy had inherited his intelligence. He didn't ask any questions or make any noise. I told him I was there to take him home and that I hoped he was a fast runner, because I didn't plan on stopping. Apparently the cell-like room didn't hold any attractions for him and he give a curt nod of agreement to my plan. I waited until the guard was at the farthest point on her circuit and signaled Varvur. We sprang from behind the tapestry and made straight for the steps, ignoring the shouts from behind. Crashing through the door into the main hall of Venim Manor, I bowled over a couple of retainers but kept my feet. Another sprint and we were out into the central chamber of Skar and pounding across the boardwalk toward Sarethi Manor. When we reached Athyn Sarethi, he promised to sponsor me before the Council and told me that I could report to him for orders. He also promoted me to House Cousin. In rescuing another man's son, I had made a place for myself. Whatever else might happen, I now belonged to a family.

Here ends Chapter 6

This post has been edited by treydog: Mar 11 2023, 09:36 PM