They're the other side of Maar Gan, but they are by the side of the road. Since you have to go through Maar Gan to get there, it had me worried at first.

I think the ransom changed from the time I played it, too.

@Grits - as ghastley said, they're in the area but not actually on the road between Falasmaryon and Maar Gan. As for their prisoner...

@ghastley - I can't resist shuffling NPCs around a little for things like this. And - yeah, in-game the ransom is 5000 drakes at the start. A drake is more valuable in Adrynverse than in-game, so some amounts are subject to change. (Most obvious in quest rewards, which are usually significantly reduced when they're monetary.) This was actually more of an accident than anything else when I started writing, but I've run with it because it allows me to keep financial pressure on Adryn more easily.

Last installment, Adryn's trek back to Maar Gan was interrupted when she ran into a trio of Ashlanders who'd apparently captured a Redoran noble and were holding him for ransom. They didn't want to believe she wasn't there for him, and Adryn herself couldn't resist checking out the situation. Now, let's meet the captive noble in question.



I ducked inside a yurt for the second time today. This one was larger than Akin's, containing not just the bed-rolls and spread woven rugs I'd also seen there but scattered cushions, standing screens of wood and stretched hide, even a low table. This was a more permanent structure, I judged, erected by people who expected to be staying here for a while. In contrast, Akin's had been ready to tear down at a moment's notice, proof of his precarious existence in the shadow of Falasmaryon's monsters.

Also unlike Akin's, this yurt contained a captive.

He sat on the ground, knees brought up to his chest, staring at the floor. Rope was looped around his ankles, more tied his hands behind his back. His captors, I noted with a critical eye, had not had much experience tying people up and had tried to make up for lack of skill with enthusiasm. Unsuccessfully so; I could have twisted my way out of those bonds. The man hadn't, but I supposed nobility didn't generally bother with lessons in escapology.

If he was a noble at all.

Looking at him, I found myself drawing a different conclusion. The clothes were fine, yes, but merchant-making-a-decent-living-fine, journeyman-of-a-craft-fine, not nobility-fine. Linen, not silk; embroidery done in cotton thread, not gold or silver; no rare dyes nor gemstones to be seen. It was clothing of the sort I'd owned back in Skyrim for the occasions when I needed to dress up. Varvur, I suspected, would turn his nose up at it.

I must have made a sound, because the man looked up to see me in the doorway. The expression of hope on his face tugged at my heart.

"Please! Help me! Rescue me from these savages. They've held me captive for two days." I must not have looked as enthusiastic as he'd have liked, because he added, "I'm a noble of House Redoran. I promise you'll be well-rewarded."

"Uh-huh." My voice was flat. "A noble. I'd definitely be interested to hear you explain why you're wearing merchant clothes, and why you were wandering the Ashlands alone."

There was a frantic flicker in the man's eyes, but his voice didn't even tremble as he said, "I was travelling in disguise. My house has many enemies, when venturing into dangerous lands it is best not to do so openly."

Smooth. I was reluctantly impressed.

Not that that would stop me from needling him further. "Oh? I didn't realise Redoran honour bent far enough to allow for such practicalities. I thought you lot demanded one stomp straight into the ambush, shouting for your cowardly foes to show themselves."

The corner of the "noble"'s mouth twitched before he could stop himself. Ha! He thought it was funny too.

"Ah, I realise my... fellow Redoran may not always give that impression, but there is room for subtlety in our ethos. You should look into Dravon Indarys' Tactics and Strategy at some point, it sheds a lot of light on the philosophy of the house – and it's written by a mer beyond reproach, one widely considered to be one of the greatest Redoran has ever produced."

Really.

I let my voice drop into a whisper. "Look, this is all well and good, and I have to say I admire your improvisation skills immensely. If you ever choose to follow a career in acting, please do let me know, I'd love to see the performance. However, can you drop the lies for a minute? That boy out there is demanding a ransom of twenty septims for his high-ranking captive, and I think we both know no such fee will be forthcoming. I need you to be honest with me if I'm going to get you out of here in one piece."

I spent a moment to wonder at the fact that while I was distracted by my admiration of the man's ability to spin a lie, my subconscious had evidently decided that I was, indeed, going to do my level best to rescue him, my complete unsuitability for the task, the fact that I'd never even met him before today, and the fact that I was currently in the process of fleeing a fortress full of twisted monsters notwithstanding.

Somehow, I was sure, this was Athyn Sarethi's fault.

The man pinned me with a suspicious, narrow-eyed gaze. For a moment, I thought he was going to stick with his story. Then I saw him glance out the open entrance-flap, apparently making sure none of his three captors were in earshot. Upon seeing they were occupied at the campfire, he deflated.

"You're right, of course." His voice was so soft I could barely hear him. "I'm Beden of clan Giladren. We're no nobility – I'm a glassblower journeyman from Vivec." Called it with the clothing – it was nice to know that despite the change in location, I hadn't lost my eye for value. "I was on a pilgrimage to the shrine at Maar Gan, got turned around... next thing I know, I have three Ashlanders pointing their spears at me. I panicked. I thought they'd kill me unless I gave them a reason to think I'd be worth more alive. My master's shop is in Redoran canton and he has a lot of noble patrons, I figured I could ape them well enough... worked swimmingly, as you can see, but I didn't quite think it through."

I couldn't stop the surge of empathy that swept through me. This sounded like the sort of fix I might get myself into. Matters weren't helped when he added, "For what it's worth, I did mean it about Indarys' book – it's engagingly written, and a very interesting glimpse into the different schools of thought one can find in Redoran. I'd recommend it to anyone who needs to interact with the house."

A fellow bookworm, too. I could almost find it in myself to forgive him for getting himself kidnapped and leaving me to sort the mess out.

"Tell you what, you can lend me your copy as thanks once we get out of this." I frowned. "Now, let me think..."



Notes: Short installment this time, and it might be followed by a longer break - I'm heading off on holiday for two weeks and there's still a few sections in chapter 18 that need work. I'll do my best to resume updating when I can!

I hope you have a marvelous holiday!

I loved Beden’s little flash of humor. You’ve brought him to life in very few lines. I’m glad Adryn is going to attempt a rescue.

Finally had the time to catch up while waiting for ESO to repair following this week's update.

Yikes, that old fortress sounds horrific enough! Maybe the devs had been reading too much Lovecraft?

And I couldn't help but laugh at Peacock and Co. I am interested in seeing what happens next. Will keep an eye on this one!

@Grits - Thanks! It was great - Spanish course in the south of Spain, so I got to soak up some sunlight and nice weather while significantly improving my language skills. Also went to the carnival in Cadiz, which was an experience.

And I'm glad you like Beden! He grew on me very quickly while writing this.

@haute ecole rider - yeah, you really have to wonder about the game devs, don't you? I'm really only spelling out a little more explicitly what's already in the game here. At least Peacock and Co make for a nice diversion... and I hope you'll like Adryn's solution to the problem they present.

Last chapter, Adryn accidentally teleported herself to Falasmaryon while playing with a propylon index. There, she almost made close acquaintances with an ash ghoul, did meet a (thankfully friendly) Ashlander who told her about the provenance of said ash ghoul, and finally - on her trek back to Maar Gan - ran into another group of Ashlanders. This group happens to be holding a Redoran noble for ransom - something that would probably work out better if the man in question were actually a noble, instead of a terrified craftsman from Vivec trying to save his hide. But fear not, Adryn is reluctantly on the case. (Don't tell Athyn Sarethi.)



"Hi. Rasamsi, wasn't it?" I gave the Velothi woman I'd managed to catch alone my best, most charming smile. Judging by her unimpressed stare back, it was unsuccessful.

"What is it, outlander? Here to negotiate?"

All right, I'd been very accommodating, but enough was enough. Beden would have to allow for a minor digression. "Just for the record, I have a name, and it's not 'outlander'. It's Adryn. Foundling, no clan," I added hastily, remembering the caravaneer two days ago. I really didn't need more misunderstandings regarding my lack of a family name.

And yes, that was pity in those eyes. I was sure the tendency of Morrowind natives to treat my existence like some horrific tragedy could be useful, but at the moment it mainly smarted.

"...fair enough. Rasamsi of clan Esurarnat, of the Urshilaku. Well met." Case in point: I doubted she'd have been as civil a minute ago.

"Isn't it nice when we're all polite and introduce ourselves like civilized people." I spotted Rasamsi's eye twitch and decided I shouldn't overdo it. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about your captive."

"And what do you want to say about the most illustrious son of House Redoran?"

I paused for a moment. If she hadn't already guessed...

What was I even thinking? Of course she'd already guessed. The sarcasm in that sentence had been so thick it was almost visible.

"I think," I said quietly, "we both know he's no such thing."

Rasamsi let out a groan of pure relief, as though I'd lifted a weight she'd been carrying for too long. "Ah. Thank you, outl- Adryn," she hastily corrected herself. "It is such a pleasure to deal with people who have a brain again. Sadly, neither of my cousins qualify."

A gaping hole where the creature's - the person's, once upon a time - eyes should be...

As my stomach twisted, I really hoped that one day I'd be able to take that expression as innocently as it was meant again.

"So," I prompted, "I guess you know a twenty-septim ransom won't be forthcoming, not for a glassblower from Vivec."

"Glassblower? I suppose that explains the strange powders he had with him." Rasamsi sounded happy at a mystery resolved. "And I told Manat his ransom was an idiot idea and we should just kill the man, but it's always shut up, Rasamsi, you don't know anything, Rasamsi..."

I swallowed. All of a sudden, Rasamsi no longer seemed so down-to-earth and likeable. "Kill him?"

Rasamsi threw me an exasperated look. "Well, obviously it would have been better to send him off after the storm passed, but what else are we supposed to do with him now? If we let him go, he'll run to Maar Gan Temple bleating about dangerous Ashlanders holding him captive... and we all know how they'll respond. I have no intention of dying at the hands of the zebdusinael because my cousin is an idiot."

The worst thing was, after Akin's lesson on the history between the Velothi tribes and the Tribunal temple, I couldn't even tell her such an idea was ridiculous. Even if I still strenuously objected to her proposed solution.

More to the point, I thanked the Divines and - getting in the Morrowind style of things - my anonymous ancestors for the fact that our bonding over Peacock's idiocy meant Rasamsi was thinking of me on her side... as opposed to another outsider who could run 'bleating to the Temple', as she'd put it.

"For what it's worth," I chose my words carefully, "Beden seemed reasonable, and honestly more embarrassed about how he got himself into this mess than anything else." I let the name fall deliberately - the more I could do to make his would-be murderer remember that he was a living, breathing person with dreams and hopes of his own, the better. "If he's also grateful to me for rescuing me, I'm pretty sure I can talk him into an... alternate version of events, one that leaves out certain ill-advised decisions. Perhaps," I was thinking out loud, "he was ill, or injured, after the ash storm, and a gracious - no, heroic - group of Velothi found him and nursed him back to health."

Rasamsi looked as though she wanted to be convinced but hadn't quite managed it. "I like the sounds of that. But I don't like the sounds of pretty sure. What are we supposed to do if he doesn't go along with your idea?"

"Well... you could always move? Hard for them to kill you if they can't find you." An idea shot through my head. "Maybe in the direction of Falasmaryon. I met someone there who said he was a relative of yours, and he could probably use some support. And I guarantee you that any Temple warriors at Falasmaryon will have more important things to worry about than P- your idiot cousin."

"Falas-" For the first time, I saw Rasamsi lose her air of world-weary cynicism. In its place, blank shock spread over her face. "Missun. You're talking about Missun." She moved forward like a striking snake - before I could react, my wrist was caught in a firm grasp. "You've seen him. Spoken to him. Is he all right? Is he injured?"

I stayed silent in favour of staring pointedly at the unwelcome and uninvited source of physical contact. If we were to have civil conversation and exchange of information, no manhandling had better be involved.

For a moment, Rasamsi's grip tightened. A chill raced up my spine, anxiety rising with it. Had I pushed her too far? We'd been friendly enough so far, but at the end of the day I was still an outlander, an interloper. There was nothing preventing Rasamsi from treating me the same as Beden... or, worse, the way she'd have liked to treat Beden.

Then she let go. When I looked up, I saw that a flush stained her cheeks purple. Embarrassment at her own behaviour, I hoped. I did my best not to let my own relief show.

"He seemed well enough, and uninjured," I said once it was clear that my personal space would be staying free from invasion again. "Mind you, I personally am not sure how long such a state of affairs might last, considering he's staying right next to a fortress of twisted monsters." I shuddered. I'd have liked to pretend the movement was an act, one to help sell Akin's dire situation and need for help. Alas, it was all real - I suspected it would be quite some time until I could talk about Falasmaryon and keep an even expression.

Rasamsi spat a curse. "Idiot man. He's as bad as Manat in his own way. Ancestors' gift to archery he may be, Sul-Senipul come again, but last I checked that didn't make him invincible!" Her breath hissed between her teeth. "I told Manat we should go to Falasmaryon to help. Wonder of wonders, he was actually listening to me for once! But then the so-called noble stumbled upon us, and Manat had one of his brilliant ideas, and we've been sitting here ever since."

"So..." I hazarded, "I take it you'd be willing to let said so-called noble go? Seeing as you'd be able to move on to help your cousin, and any Temple force that reaches Falasmaryon will definitely have other things to worry about than a group of Velothi who've learned their lesson and won't be kidnapping anyone again, right?"

"Me?" Rasamsi sighed. "Yes... I guess it'd be fine by me. But in case it escaped you, I'm not exactly the hunt-leader of this little party. Adairan will go along with whatever Manat says... and Azura only knows what it'll take to get my idiot cousin to let go of this nonsense about a ransom."

My stomach sank. "I... take it simply telling him Beden's not a noble won't end well."

"He won't believe you. He'll claim you're trying to trick him, or something." Rasamsi's voice was gloomy, and heavy with the weight of experience. "It wouldn't even be so bad if he simply accepted he was an idiot, you know? Adairan's no trouble if you separate them - he knows he's not the sharpest arrow in the quiver and is happy to follow the people he thinks are more intelligent. Unfortunately for me, for some reason Manat is at the top of that list. And Manat has to try to be clever."

"Hmm..." I let the sound trail off as I considered what Ingerte would do in my situation. (I steadfastly refused to think would have done).

Although Peacock did indeed sound infuriating to deal with, and I scarcely wanted to imagine what it must have been like to grow up with him, looking at the whole thing from the outside in it didn't seem nearly as hopeless as Rasamsi was making it out. The direct route was obviously out, but... he wanted to be clever, he wanted to feel as though he'd triumphed over an opponent by his wits alone. There were definitely ways to use that.

Ingerte would already have come up with half a dozen at this point, I was sure. I wasn't her, so I could only boast one.

"Can you tell me more about what you found in Beden's belongings?"

"Hmm. You have an idea, outl- Adryn. I'm curious what it is." A pause as Rasamsi's expression changed, brows drawing together. "But before I tell you, answer a question for me."

"Oh?"

"How on Nirn did you end up in Falasmaryon with no shoes?"



"So, outlander! You have seen that we truly hold our captive just as we said. Now, are you ready to pay the ransom?"

I turned to face Peacock, dredging up every shred of acting skill I'd ever had as I did so. It had never been my strong point, I was forced to admit - my face was a little too expressive, never to mention that I was a little too prone to blurting out what I was thinking at inopportune moments. Back in Windhelm, Ingerte - who could have convinced a Vigilant of Stendarr to make an offering to Sheogorath - had taken point on any smooth-talking required. Still, I was hardly hopeless, as Arkngthand should have proved.

Besides, it wasn't as if I was facing fierce competition here.

"Of course, however... I'm afraid I really don't have the money on me. His family wanted confirmation of the story first, before they sent someone into the wilderness with a fortune." I noticed Peacock's brows drawing together and decided to try the magic words. "They figured it was the smart thing to do - I'm sure you understand."

Peacock's expression cleared. "Naturally, naturally! I expected as much, in fact."

Of course you did. "They would, however, obviously be willing to send me back with the ransom if I bring them proof he is here. Such as..." Now for the tricky part. "The guarhide bag he was carrying. Its contents should suffice. Not that they're valuable!"

The last sentence had been spoken with haste, my tongue stumbling over the words, my eyes wide and panicked. Anyone smarter than Varvur should become suspicious at this point, a group I fully expected to encompass the vast majority of the population of Vvardenfell - animals included. Alas for me, Peacock did not seem to be among their number, because he was nodding, mouth already opening to agree-

Thankfully for both me and Beden, Rasamsi got there first.

"The bag with the strange powders, outlander? The ones none of us could identify?"

"Strange- the powders, yes!" I forced a nervous laugh. It came very easily, given the situation. "But- but they are ordinary powders, nothing unusual or valuable about them at all, of course."

Help came from an unexpected quarter. The third Velothi, who'd been listening to this with a growing frown, interrupted.

"If they're so ordinary, 'fraid I don't see how the bag's to prove we have the man captive. Shouldn't you need something like..." his brow furrowed. "A ring, or an amulet, or a lock of hair? That's how it goes in the stories, right?"

Yes, because the stories are definitely a good guide to how things work in reality.

I didn't say it. Instead, I let a hunted expression spread on my face, my eyes dart back and forth. "Ah... well... um..." When my glance passed Peacock, I saw that he was leaning forward, his own eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Well, finally.

"I think," he purred, "that you are trying to slip something past us, outlander. Foolishly so, for - after all - I am Manat Shimmabadas, known throughout the Ashlands for my cunning mind." My eyes met Rasamsi's at that moment, and I had to bite my cheek in order not to laugh. Judging by her expression, that was not what he was known for.

Now, for the next part of the act.

I sighed, let my shoulders fall, did everything I could to project an aura of defeat. "All right, you caught me. Should have known better than to try. I'm really interested in those powders."

"Why? And what about the ransom?" Rasamsi picked up the cue.

"Oh, no one was going to be paying that. He's not a noble, you see."

Careful, now. I could see Peacock's expression begin to close off. This next part would be delicate.

"It was all a front for smuggling Alinorean glow-dust to Gnisis. Very rare." I let my nose wrinkle slightly as I looked at Peacock, allowed a sliver of contempt to seep into my voice. "I don't expect any of you to have heard of it."

Peacock, Nine bless him and his predictable nature, fell for it hook, line and sinker. "What? I- oh no! Alinorean glow-dust, of course I know of it. From... from the Summerset Isles, yes?"

Congratulations, you know basic geography. "Yes, that's exactly it," I said, making sure to widen my eyes as though in amazement. "I see I really shouldn't underestimate you. Well, I'm sure you'll know then that it's highly sought-after, goes for ten whole septims the ounce on the black market. Empire's cracked down on the trade, but we have a buyer in Gnisis, just had to get the goods through the wilderness... we figured that if anyone looked through the pilgrim disguise, they'd be fooled by the Redoran noble act. Of course, we didn't realise we'd be running into such a clever adversary as you. Why, you must have seen right through it."

In Peacock's eyes, I saw a brief battle between truth and pride. Truth lost decisively.

"I- yes, of course I did! Obviously, I knew from the start the so-called Redoran noble was no such thing." There was a choking sound from Rasamsi's direction at this blatant and shameless fabrication. I wished I was standing closer to her so I could step on her foot. "I, I simply wished to see what would turn up. No man would simply pretend to be a noble, after all! Clearly there was something bigger afoot."

Oh, of course, no man would simply pretend to be a noble. Definitely not a poor journeyman from Vivec who's run afoul of an armed group with no reason to wish him well and who's terrified they're going to murder him out of hand. Of course such a man wouldn't pretend to anything and everything that would make him worth more alive than dead. You arrogant fool.

I bit my tongue.

"So," Peacock said, triumph spreading across his features, "I will be keeping the... glowdust."

I schooled my features into an appropriately dejected expression. "Suppose I can't argue, can I. You beat us fair and square." I heaved a sigh. "Will you at least let my friend go? You already have your prize, after all."

Peacock hesitated.

Come on, come on...

"And how do I know you won't come after me for revenge, outlander?"

All right, acting was one thing, leading someone with a vastly overblown sense of his own intelligence around by the nose was one thing, but this was something entirely different. My professional pride refused to let such an outrage pass. "Revenge? Have you lost your mind? This is- it's business, it's not personal! The appropriate response to being outsmarted is not to come after the smarter person with a big stick!" I blurted out.

Thankfully, it seemed this fit into my story well enough, because Peacock didn't seem to become suspicious. I suspected the use of the word "outsmarted" meant he hadn't heard anything else over the sound of his inflating ego.

"Very well, then." Peacock waved a hand. I suspected he was trying for dismissive in a lordly way. He wasn't succeeding. "It seems you have learned your lesson. I can be generous. You may have your companion back, just as I have the prize. "

Relief suffused my body. I kept it off my face by reminding myself that matters weren't quite done yet.

After all, I'd managed to secure Beden's release, but the two of us had better be well away by the time Peacock realised 'the prize' was, in fact, particularly pure and fine-grained sand.

But, but, but, .... who's going to rescue that poor defenceless dust?

Yay, Adryn! That was a fun scene to read!

@ghastley - in your response to your comment, Adryn's eyes light up. See! she exlaims. She is too a totally cold-hearted, selfish person, her various rescues simple flukes! Because, you see, sure she is rescuing Beden, but she does not care about the dust in the slightest! The dust, she says, can just rescue itself. So there.

@Grits - am glad you liked it! Adryn's at her best at moments like these, honestly.

Last installment, Adryn managed to rescue a pilgrim being held captive by Ashlanders via some clever fast-talking: in particular, she managed to convince the Ashlander in question that they were smuggling the very rare and expensive good called Alinorean glowdust through the wilderness and talked him into letting the captive go in return for keeping the good in question. Let's see if she manages to get away before he realises that "Alinorean glowdust" also goes by the name of "sand".



To his credit, Beden caught on quickly and managed a very credible impression of a penitent criminal caught out. He also waited until we were a safe distance away before he said, "I cannot believe he fell for that. Or that you even thought of it, for that matter. Alinorean glowdust, really?"

I shrugged. "He thought of himself as a man of wit and intelligence-"

"-you were not the one who spent several days tied up forced to listen to him crow about his glorious master plan, trust me when I say you do not have to tell me that-"

"-so expecting him to admit he was wrong about something was never going to work," I continued, doggedly ignoring the interruption. "If he was wrong, he wasn't smart enough, you see? But dangle the possibility of outwitting someone in front of him and he'd go straight for it without a second glance." I hoped Rasamsi had taken note, myself. I wasn't sure she'd take to my methods - she'd struck me as quite a direct sort - but she was certainly in need of better Peacock-handling skills.

"Very clever." The tone of admiration in my rescuee's voice made me preen. It wasn't helped when he added, "Thank you, by the way."

"Oh, say nothing of it. Literally."

Beden frowned. "Oh?"

And now came the second bit of fast-talking I'd promised Rasamsi... the one where I convinced their erstwhile captive to keep his mouth shut about what exactly had happened to him.

Alas, the erstwhile captive was not as easily convinced as Peacock. "And why exactly should I not be going straight to the authorities with this?"

"Rasamsi-"

"Because I care so much about the well-being of a woman who said they should simply kill me and be done with it."

I mentally downgraded my estimate of Rasamsi's intelligence. Not only did she have murderous intentions, but she discussed them in front of her potential victim? A poor showing. Not much foresight there. And, of course, I was the one who now had to clean up her mess.

"But she didn't kill you, did she?" I argued. "In fact, she was tremendously helpful when it came to setting up my plan. If it weren't for her you'd probably still be in that yurt." I considered, then decided to stretch the truth a little. "I don't think she meant it, anyway. I think she panicked at the thought that you'd go and tell the Temple there are dangerous Ashlanders in the area that need to be 'dealt with'. In other words, exactly what you're suggesting right now."

Beden sighed. "I do see your point. And it's not as though I want them to die." Thank you, universe! It was always so nice to meet another person who didn't think it was appropriate to get murderous about random strangers. We were far too few in number, I thought. "On the other hand, it's hardly safe to let them keep running around kidnapping travellers, is it? Sooner or later someone will get hurt, and I don't want that on my conscience."

"I happen to have it on good authority that those three are about to decamp for a more isolated region... one where any stray traveller will have much bigger problems than an overgrown adolescent with an overblown sense of his intelligence who's read far too many Isinfier Ionus novels."

Beden burst out laughing. "That would explain it, wouldn't it! A disguised Redoran noble smuggling Alinorean glowdust through the Ashlands wouldn't be out of place in one of those books."

I felt a surge of warmth for my fellow connoisseur of pulp adventure novels. It grew stronger when he continued with, "All right, then. I suppose the shrine curators don't have to know some of the details of what happened to me after the ash storm. Lots of lying down coughing, frightfully boring business all in all."

See, I told an imaginary Rasamsi, there are so many ways of resolving conflicts and misunderstandings that don't involve murdering anyone.

Out loud, I just said, "Thank you,"

"I'm not sure what I'm being thanked for." Beden was wearing an expression of complete innocence. "It's not as if anything happened to me that I'd need to lie about, is it? Only being rescued by some kind Ashlanders."

"I meant it earlier when I said that if you ever decide to switch careers and become an actor, I'd love to know," I responded. "I expect the performance to be absolutely unforgettable." He'd make for an incredible con artist, as well, but I opted not to say that part out loud.

"I'll keep it in- oh!"

The path we'd been following had wound its way through some low hills, making it hard to see much of where we were going. However, it seemed the bend we'd just rounded had been the last, because we found ourselves with a lovely view of the path running straight into the distance...

...up to the point where it met an arched gate in a high wall, two watchtowers on either side of it.

I drank in the sight of Maar Gan, a place which I decided I truly hadn't appreciated as much as it deserved on my first visit. After all, for all its odd and unfortunate problem with Daedra, it still boasted such wondrous things as armed guards, inhabitants in possession of their full cranial capacity, and - of course - my shoes. (Something I could only describe as the bodily equivalent of a whimper came from the general direction of my feet at the thought.)

"I don't know about you, but I for one would like to reach town at some point today." Beden said. "I was planning on dinner in the tavern followed by going to sleep in an actual bed. Of course, if you'd rather keep standing here staring at the place..."

"Right, sorry. Let's go then, shall we?"



"Heroic Ashlanders, you say?" Scarecrow sounded deeply skeptical.

Beden must have noticed as well. Did he let it shake him? Was there a trace of nervousness on his face? No, there was not. Cool as an ice wraith in midwinter, that man - I was beginning to wonder if he had actually been a con artist before turning glassblower.

"Just as I said. I got terribly turned around, then caught out in last week's storm, and then I came down with ataxia to boot... they found me stumbling around, took me in, nursed me back to health."

"He was just well enough to travel when I happened by," I chimed in. "They were worried about him travelling on his own, didn't want to venture near Maar Gan themselves for some reason... and there I was! Serendipity at its finest."

"And that is another part of the story I admit I don't understand. How exactly did you end up in the wastes?" As I opened my mouth, Scarecrow went on, "You must understand the story of the propylon index seems a little... unlikely. No one has ever heard of one behaving in such a way."

Well, wasn't this a familiar situation. Everyone knew a 'propylon index' (and since when had my crystal had a name?) couldn't send you careening off to visit horror-ridden Dunmer fortresses, everyone knew teleportation spells couldn't misfire...

I was in the process of readying a scathing retort when a soft voice interrupted.

"Peace, Salen," Methal said. "Their story holds together. I've long theorised that propylon indices have hidden powers, ones which could be brought forth by... the right person, shall we say." There was a strange gleam in his eyes as he considered me. After a moment, he went on. "And as for the Ashlanders... in this region, those would be Urshilaku. I'd be curious to hear more about your interactions with them, Adryn. I've had dealings with them before."

Methal's voice was mild, friendly even. Unarmed, clad in plain grey robes, sitting demurely at the kitchen table, he looked absolutely harmless. As a result, I really couldn't explain why a chill went up my spine at his last statement.

Scarecrow didn't seem perturbed. Instead, he was clearly lost in thought."Urshilaku, Urshilaku... not highly aggressive, those were the Erabenimsun... were they the ones involved in that uprising twenty years ago... dash it all, I wish Sister Ervesa hadn't left already. I'm a shrine warden, I'm not trained in dealing with heretics. An Armiger would have a better idea of these things."

A horrible thought went through my head. It was one that probably should have occurred to me earlier, although in my defense I had been rather beset by distractions.

"Ervesa said she was going to scout caves and old ruins for danger, right? Do you know where she was going?" My stomach shrivelled into an icy lump. "Not... not Falasmaryon, right?"

"I believe she was planning to stop by - and no wonder, the place is so easily defensible, it's a prime lair for bandits - but if I remember correctly, she wanted to go west to begin. Look into Hairat-Vassamsi egg mine, we had an adventurer pass by headed for there who never returned. Why do you ask?"

I found myself fervently hoping that said egg mine was a labyrinth that took days upon days to scout. "Well. I happened to pass by Falasmaryon... and there are certain inhabitants that I believe anyone who approaches the place should really be aware of." I swallowed. "In related news, do you know what happens to the victims of ash statues in the end? Because I think I do, and I really wish I didn't."

"Salen, pilgrim, out. These are higher mysteries." The harmless priest was gone. In his space sat a fiery-eyed mer so used to command he didn't even bother turning to confirm the two mentioned were following his instructions. (They were, although Beden looked rather taken aback.) After the door shut, he snapped, "Explain."

Well, what could I do other than explain.

One little edit hiccup: At the end of the first section you have some repetition in Beden’s desire to reach town at some point today.

It was fun to see Adryn and Beden getting along so well. I hope Ervesa takes her time at that egg mine. Yikes, Methal can be scary!

I have to admit that the whole propylon index system confuses me. They're unique, and you have to possess the whole set before you can go everywhere, so it's essentially a transportation mechanism designed for one person, but we're never given any clue who that originally was, or why it was made that way. We know it was a long time ago, as the strongholds are in such a variety of different hands at the present.

Without the Master Index, you only get to travel around the circuit, but again, there's no explanation of why that particular circuit was established. It does cover all the strongholds, and each connects to its geographical closest pair, but that's where logic ends. If the strongholds were built to be transit nodes, why are they where they are, or if the network was to link the already-built strongholds, why the strict circuit?

And did Methal have anything to do with it?

@Grits - thanks for pointing that out! It has been fixed.

And yeah, Methal can be terrifying when he wants to.

@ghastley - absolutely agreed on the ??? re: the propylon system. I was always oddly fascinated by it while playing, but you're right, it's hard to make sense of. I took this fic as an excuse to really think them through and like to think I've figured out a plausible way for it to work, although it did mean it doesn't function exactly the way it does in-game... at least for Adryn.

Re: Methal, it's true that you should be looking extremely carefully at basically everything he says and does regarding Adryn... but remember we've seen Nerevar working with the propylon network in flashbacks, including using an index to teleport. It sure looks as though this particularly teleportation accident Adryn came by entirely honestly.



I left Methal behind with a spring in my step. Not only was it a weight off my shoulders to have someone significantly more powerful and well-connected than myself aware of the things at Falasmaryon, Methal had said that he had ways to get a warning to Ervesa so she wouldn't wander into the place unprepared. Those things, I felt, justified an elevation of my mood in their own right... but even more, a reunion was imminent that I'd been looking forward to since this morning: that of a girl and her shoes.

Raised voices caught my attention as I passed the door to the entrance hallway. Despite my intention to give the dremora a wide, wide berth from now on, curiosity meant I couldn't resist a peek.

Beden and the dremora were face-to-face, with Scarecrow leaning against a nearby wall watching them. The dremora was doing its best to look as bored and apathetic as usual, but a tightness around its mouth made me think it was finding the expression hard to manage. In contrast, Beden's eyes were dancing, his hands sweeping in emphatic gestures, every inch of him saying he was once again giving his inner actor free reign as he...

...insulted the Daedra?

"-look like the offspring of an Ogrim and a monkey, and I'd thank you to stay on that side of the room so I don't have to learn if you smell like one too. How on earth did you survive in Oblivion when the least churl must be able to best you with their hands tied behind their back- unless they found themselves laughing too hard at your appearance to fight-"

I decided I didn't want to know.

My cot was just as I'd so abruptly and involuntarily left it this morning. More importantly, my shoes were there as well. As I picked them up, I swore to myself that I was never going to experiment with unknown magical items while only wearing socks again.

A short while later found me in the kitchen freshly shod, revelling in the feeling of hard leather protecting my feet once more. Beden and I had missed the dinner hour, but there was leftover stew still on the stove. I hoped Scarecrow hadn't had any particular plans for it, because in a short time it was quite diminished.

"Leave some of that for me, will you?"

I looked up to see Tashpi approach, her face-mask off for once and a hungry gleam in her eye. Quite literally hungry, in this case; she fell on the stew like a ravaging horde, and soon after the pot was scoured quite clean.

"Ah, that hit the spot. I've barely had time to scarf down a scrib-roll, recently." She patted her stomach. "At least now that quarantine's been lifted, I can get some of the others to help with the nursing."

Quarantine? I would have asked, except that I do pride myself on not being stupid (actually not stupid, unlike certain Velothi of my recent acquaintance) and the two and two of Tashpi having no time for me recently and the sick ward being thoroughly off-limits had made for a very definite four. "Lifted?" I asked instead.

"Lifted," Tashpi confirmed. "Thought they had Black-Heart Blight – which did not leave me sleeping easy, that's one we still don't have any sort of treatment for – but it turned out to be swamp fever after all. A real relief, that, even if I'd still like to know how on Nirn someone manages to contract swamp fever in the Ashlands."

As Tashpi spoke, I went to the hearth and poured us each a cup of hackle-lo tea. I'd quickly learned that there was almost always a pot simmering, and Tashpi's rambles along with her trembling hands made me think she needed it.

Tashpi evidently agreed, judging by the way she drank down half a cup in a single go and the long sigh she let out afterwards. "Thanks, that hits the spot." She gave me a closer look. "So... you must have been pretty bored, huh?"

I considered the events of the past day.

...no, 'bored' was not an adjective I found I could associate with it. However, telling Tashpi this would mean needing to explain exactly why today had in fact been extremely interesting, in the curse sense of the word. This did not mesh particularly well with my plans to forget any of it had ever happened.

"Something like that," I said vaguely. "Nothing much worth talking about happened, at any rate. I spent a lot of time doing chores." I felt this was true enough from a certain perspective; after all, I had spent a lot of yesterday and the day before that way, and I certainly didn't consider today's events worth talking about.

"I figured. Well, I have a suggestion for you, for something to do that'd be more interesting than sweeping. Methal mentioned you're good at Detection magic?"

"...yes?" I answered warily. I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.

Thinking back, I also couldn't remember ever discussing my skill with detection spells with Methal. He had to know from somewhere, so it must have come up, but when? I hadn't seen the man that much in the last few days, and most of our conversations had concerned the Temple-

"Excellent!" Tashpi interrupted my musings. "You see, there's been no sign of Mathis Dalobar, our trader, and he should have been here before the ash storm hit. There's a search party heading out tomorrow morning – I'd like you to join. If you're really as good at detecting living beings as Methal said, you'd be a real asset."

Why.

I'd only just gotten back!

"...Adryn, are you all right?" Tashpi sounded rather wary. I guessed my face must have been something of a picture; I decided to fix this fact by burying it in my hands.

"What is it," I spoke to my palms, "with this island and asking me, an alchemist, to do things like searching for lost travellers in the wilderness. You know, the one with dangerous wildlife like kagouti, Blighted guar and cliff racers," to say nothing of ancient fortresses beset by horrors, Velothi turned to kidnapping, naked men of varying races, and similar horrors, "things that you need combat skills to deal with."

"Um. Do you need a potion? More tea?"

"I need to get back to a place where people are sane."

"Right." Tashpi heaved a sigh. "Look, I don't know what other people have asked you to do in the past. On my part, I am perfectly aware that you're not capable of fighting – Methal was quite clear on that point. I'm not particularly good at it either, if you must know, seeing as the Restoration spell school isn't exactly known for its offensive uses. Which is why several members of Redoran will be accompanying us. I happen to know some of them quite well – nice, big, strong mer. Perfect for hiding behind."

I peered at Tashpi through my fingers. Described that way, this plan seemed almost sensible. Needless to say, I was suspicious. "And they'll take care of any fighting? No 'oh Adryn, please handle that Daedra for me'?"

Tashpi snorted. "They're young Redoran looking for glory. They'll fall over themselves to take care of the fighting." She paused. "If you're worried, remind them beforehand that you're helpless and it would be a great stain on their honour to let you come to any harm."

"Well..." Despite myself, I was wavering. I felt I'd gotten something of a feel for House Redoran thanks to Varvur and his father, and I could imagine how Tashpi's strategy could prove highly effective.

Tashpi could apparently sense my weakness, because she decided to capitalise on it. "I should probably mention that the search route will take us past some very botanically interesting areas – there's an outcrop just southwest of town with the perfect conditions for red lichen, and a pool that's managed to survive this long supporting some quite rare water plants. I'd of course be happy to tell you all about them as we pass. Mind you, I don't know when the next time is that I'll be leaving town – I really can't leave my patients that often. Chances are you'll be back in Ald'ruhn by then."

I should probably worry about having such an obvious, easily exploitable weakness. "All right, all right. I'll come. But!" I held up a finger. "The instant those Redoran of yours wander off, or go 'oh, why don't you go first', or do anything that leads me to believe they won't jump on any threat that appears, I'm heading back to town."

"Of course," Tashpi smiled, gracious in her triumph. "We're meeting outside the town gate at dawn."



Notes: For those of my readership who haven't played Morrowind before, this quest description may help you make sense of Beden's interaction with the Daedra.

A search party in the wilderness! What could go wrong?

Thank you for that quest description. I would have had no idea what Beden was up to.

Fingers crossed that Adryn gets some rare water plants or lichen out of her next adventure.

@Grits - yeah, there's a few things where I write assuming my readers are reasonably familiar with the game and have played some of the more well-known quests - which is a problem since I have a bunch of readers who haven't! This was just flavouring, but there's a bigger bit coming up in the future where I might have to go "psst, here's a link to this character's wiki page"- I don't want you all to miss out, after all!

Last installment, after finally making it back to Maar Gan Adryn immediately let herself get talked into another expedition to find a lost trader. Bribery via alchemy ingredients might have been involved. Now, let's see how that goes...



It rained that night. I hadn't even realised it could rain in the Ashlands – the impression I'd had so far was that the climate was limited to sun, clouds, and horrifying ash storms – but when I left the Temple that morning, the buildings looked cleaner than I'd thought they could be and the omnipresent ash was dark with moisture.

"Good omen," said the armoured guard I'd mentally dubbed Redoran One (distinguished from Redoran Two by being half a foot shorter and Redoran Three by being female). "Much easier to travel in."

This proved true. Wet, the ash packed down so that we could walk over the top of it with our feet sinking in only a little at each step – a far cry from my struggles the day before. All the same, I found myself more interested in the white blossoms that now adorned most of the trama bushes we passed, never to mention the tiny red flowers that had seemingly sprung up overnight.

"It's such a rare occasion, rain, the plants know to make the most of it," Tashpi explained from where she was walking beside me. "I wish it weren't. Volcanic ash is incredibly fertile – this land could be the bread-basket of Vvardenfell, if only the climate were different. It's true!" she exclaimed at my skeptical look. (There was a lot one might say about the Ashlands, but that they struck one as suited for agriculture was definitely not on the list.) "It's the lack of moisture and the continuing ashfall that keeps the plants from taking hold. But the Ascadian Isles looked just like this after the last major eruption, and now look at them."

"I'll take your word for it," I said, not wanting to get into an argument. "What do you call these flowers, then? And do they have any interesting alchemical properties?"

"They're called Nerevar's Blood."

I blinked. There was something about that name...

What name? What was it she'd said again? The memory of the words seemed to have escaped my mind like water sickering into dry gound.

"No, those are Aralor's Blood," Redoran Two interrupted Tashpi before I could apologise for my distraction and ask her to repeat herself.

"I know them as Firuth's Blood," Methal chimed in from up ahead.

Tashpi rolled her eyes. "Whose blood it is varies by region, all right? Anyway, the name isn't important. To get back to your other questions, they don't have much in the way of alchemical properties, although a colleague of mine claims the petals will intensify certain draining potions if chopped finely and added just prior to boiling. I wouldn't know, it's not the sort of potion I deal with. Not enough of an effect to be worth it for apothecaries, anyway."

"Who cares? At least they're pretty." Redoran One said. Behind her, Tashpi and I traded a look of complete bafflement.

Methal coughed. "If I may have your attention... I believe we've reached the border of the patrols. Is that correct, Llarise?"

"It is, Diviner," Redoran Two said, dipping her head.

"I'd like for us to start actively searching beyond this point. Mathis should have come from the southwest, but he might have lost his bearings in the storm."

Looking at the way Methal effortlessly took charge of the group, it was hard to believe I'd ever thought him low-ranking.

"Adryn, if you would?"

I could guess what Methal wanted. I closed my eyes and fell into my Detection spell.

Time passed as my magicka level dropped. I turned up two nix-hounds and a mouth with legs which Redoran Two called an alit. The Redorans of various numbers did their duty admirably, not letting the beasts near me or Tashpi. There was no sign of a person, though, and although Methal maintained his cheerful demeanour I could see the worry grow on Tashpi's face.

"Mathis is a friend," she murmured at one point. "A good-hearted sort, helped me out of a real bind, a few years back... I do hope he's all right."

The sun was nearing its zenith when I detected two guar over the next hill.

"Wild, most likely," was Redoran Two's comment. "Hopefully not Blighted." The plates of her armour (giant insect, heavy variant) clattered with her shudder.

"Not Blighted," I said absently, mind still on my spell. "They seem quite healthy to me." At least, the feverish-pulsating-wrong quality I still remembered from the guar I'd run into with Gelduin was definitely absent from these two, the flames of their lives a steady glow.

"If you say so." Redoran Two's voice was doubtful, and her hand went to her mace. It was clear that she wasn't willing to take my word for it.

I found myself vindicated, as the two guar were not Blighted. For that matter, they also weren't wild. This could be discerned by the way they made a beeline for Redoran Three, not a sign of fear, anger, or anything other than pure greed to be seen. ("That's what you get for stuffing your pockets with candied ash yams," Redoran One grumbled.) It could also be discerned by the fact that both were bearing leather packs. Near the bottom of each, dark thread spelled out DALOBAR in Daedric letters.

"Well," Methal said. "We appear to be on the right track."

"And something's definitely happened to him." Tashpi was worrying her bottom lip. "He'd never abandon his guar, not willingly. They must have gotten separated."

"Saryn?" Redoran One directed her question at the third of their number, still surrounded by guar.

"Think they were attacked by nix-hounds," Redoran Three, who'd hardly spoken at all so far, said from where he was scratching the bigger guar's head. "This girl was injured, see?" Now that he mentioned it, I could see what looked like a scabbed-over bite-mark on the animal's flank. "But you got away all the same, didn't you? Yes, you're a clever girl. I think you deserve another treat for it, don't you?" Two brown lumps that gleamed with the bright lacquer-like shine that could only be due to sugar glazing made a brief appearance in the man's gauntleted hand, then vanished.

"Guar-mad." Redoran Two shook her head. "He should go become a herder or something."

"If it happened near here..." Tashpi wasn't looking any less worried. "Adryn, you're not picking up on any people, are you?"

I decided she wasn't in the mood to be cheered by the technically true but utterly useless yes – us response. "No. However, if there was an ash storm, and wild beasts, he might have sought shelter. My spell doesn't do well with thick walls – are there any caves or the like near here?"

"Hmm. That's a good idea. I'm not sure, though, I don't usually come out this far."

"There's the Rothan ancestral tomb," Redoran Two interjected. "Dalobar's no relation, and he's not a blasphemer to go trespassing... but in an ash storm, I guess it could happen." The skeptical lilt to her voice made it clear that Redoran Two wasn't entirely sure life-threatening danger qualified as an acceptable reason to set foot in a barrow not belonging to your own ancestors. I found myself suddenly reminded of Skyrim.

Speaking of Skyrim, I really hoped tombs in Morrowind weren't as prone to causing life-threatening danger in and of themselves, by virtue of residents that were disturbingly lively for being dead.

Rothan Ancestral Tomb was tucked against a hillside dotted with dead blackened trees. One of them had fallen right in front of the stone door, blocking it entirely.

"Must have happened in the storm, that wasn't there when I was here last," Redoran One said. Apparently feeling our quizzical glances, she expanded. "My grandmother was of Rothan. My cousins in the clan live too far away to make the journey more than once or twice a year, so I handle a lot of the day-to-day offerings and the upkeep."

"Very dutiful of you," Methal said in an approving tone. Redoran One preened.

"Now, this tree," she continued after a moment. "It's a pity we didn't bring saws- Llarise, Saryn, if you try to help me lift-"

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'll take care of it," Methal said in his best I-am-mild-and-harmless voice. I took two large steps back.

The fire that engulfed the tree trunk burned white-hot, enough that I found myself squeezing my eyes shut against the glare. When I opened them again, the ash in front of the door was slightly deeper than before, having gained some thick dark flakes along with the odd spot of red, smoldering heat. There was no sign of the trunk.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Methal make a wrenching motion with his left hand. The embers went out.

"There! That should take care of that." He sounded satisfied.

The Redorans, Tashpi and I traded glances, united across our very disparate lives and values in the shared thought of dear gods, what is this man or possibly why bother bringing guards when he could just incinerate anything that looked at him the wrong way. Our moment of quiet, mutual understanding – or possibly the word I was looking for was 'horror' – was broken by a faint call from inside the tomb.

"Is anyone out there?"

I was suddenly reminded of Huleen's apprentice.

Unlike the unfortunate scamp summoner, our lost trader proved quite thoroughly clothed when he emerged from the tomb, with shirt, tunic, breeches, fine knee-high boots that would fetch quite a nice sum at a fence, a thick cloak that left me mourning the one I'd sacrificed in Falasmaryon, and the scarf that was so common in the Ashlands – in this case worn loose around his shoulders to display a weathered face topped by lank brown hair. Everything was covered by fine, powdery ash, showing that he hadn't managed to escape the storm entirely. He did resemble that unfortunate apprentice in his gratitude for being rescued, and I suspected Listien had worn a similarly look of indescribable relief.

"The tomb guardians weren't happy, of course," he was saying. "Especially after the storm was over and I still couldn't leave – I'm don't think they considered the door being blocked particularly acceptable as a reason for prolonging the intrusion. Still, they allowed it. I must grant them the appropriate sacrifices in thanks, although," his throat bobbed with his swallow, "perhaps a descendant should take them for me..."

"I'll calm them, and convey your thanks," Redoran One said. She descended into the tomb, past the doorway where the trader had been huddled, with no sign of hesitation; I could swear I saw a skeletal shadow reach around her before she vanished into the darkness. I suppressed a shudder.

I was apparently the only one who considered this chain of events in any way concerning. In fact, judging by the way our rescuee relaxed at the sight, relief seemed to be the dominant emotion. Even Tashpi, who'd struck me as quite sensible thus far, nodded in approval.

"It's only the proper thing to do," she said at my sideways glance. "It was gracious of the ancestors to let him live, since he isn't of their blood. He'll need to arrange for sacrifices to their spirits in thanks once he has the ability, but for now she can speak to them." Tashpi leaned against the stone arch that shielded the entrance to the tomb, as though settling in for a wait. "I do hope they don't keep her too long, mind you. I didn't bring that much in the way of rations."

Standing in the ashy wastes, waiting for a woman to finish thanking some draugr-equivalents for not gruesomely murdering a poor lost man seeking shelter from a storm, for a moment the sheer alien nature of this land pressed down on me. The giant insects, mushroom trees, and floating jellyfish should have made it clear, but I could be a bit slow about things sometimes and somehow it had required everyone's respectful but nonchalant attitude towards the undead to remind me that I was far distant from everything I'd ever known.

Except-

(Making my way across the grassy plain at a steady lope, spear clutched in my hands, eyes trained on the fleeing nix-hound. In the distance, where the foothills begin, a netch herd was floating-

The Dwemer light flickered, casting shadows over the large map spread across the table. My companion paid it no mind, instead turning to me with a grin so bright it could near replace the lamp. "We can do it, friend – if we can trick them to Red Mountain, we can free Resdayn-"

The doorway of the tomb creaked open, the Wise Woman's hand tight where it gripped my small shoulder. I kept a careful grip on the offerings as I took a step inside-

The dremora's voice, echoing in my ears: "Oh. It's you again.")

Somehow, strangely, despite the fact that there was no reason it should, this land felt like home all the same.

A touch on my shoulder. Tashpi, looking slightly exasperated.

"Now that I have your attention, I was asking – there should be a pool of the water plants I mentioned near here. Do you want to come with me to have a look while we wait for Falvesu to finish?"

As if she had to ask.

"Lead the way," I answered, letting the odd moment pass.

You have captured rain in the desert and its aftermath beautifully.

"Very dutiful of you," Methal said in an approving tone. Redoran One preened.

I just love this line for what it says about culture.

Adryn’s sort of memory-daydream was so smoothly done, I love it!

@Grits - thanks! I'm chuffed that the rain in the desert bit rang true, as I'm from a rainy climate and was working more off memories of Magic School Bus episodes than personal experience /o\ And I couldn't resist the urge to sneak some worldbuilding in there! I find Dunmer ancestor worship fairly fascinating, so expect to see more done with it.

Last installment, Adryn helped find a trader who'd gotten stuck in a nearby ancestral tomb during the ash storm. Now, the troop is heading back to Maar Gan.



The trek back to town took longer than out, because the trader was still weak from his ordeal. Methal did offer to summon a clannfear to carry him, but the man very sensibly refused. Our speed was further hindered thanks to the fact that the sun was now high enough in the sky to have dried the ash underfoot again. All things told, it was mid-afternoon by the time we, dusty and footsore, made it back to Maar Gan – along the way I found myself deeply grateful for Tashpi's foresight in having brought enough lunch for all of us.

There was still no sign of a silt strider. There was, however, a person I hadn't seen around town when I'd left. Someone I knew but hadn't seen for a while, not since I was investigating Varvur's predicament in Ald'ruhn. Someone where I didn't have the slightest idea why they might be in Maar Gan.

"Jamie!" I left the rest of the group where they were fussing over the trader's guar and trotted over to the Redguard. "What are you doing here?"

My guildmate – one who, I had to note, would have been far more suited to the task I'd been set than my own poor alchemist self, thank you Edwinna – was looking well. She'd swapped out the chainmail I'd last seen her in for the same giant insect style the Redorans were wearing – bonemold, I'd heard it called. I didn't know enough about armour to tell if this was an improvement, but I did note the new suit looked better-fitted than her last.

"Adryn?" Jamie sounded at least as surprised to see me as I was to see her. "I could ask you the same! I've wanted to catch up with you, but I was off running errands and then you weren't around in either Balmora or Ald'ruhn."

"I travelled to Maar Gan Sundas for guild guide business. But I had to stay overnight, and then there was an ash storm, and there haven't been any silt striders since." I paused, struck by a thought. "Although they must be running again, since you're here." If getting dragged into finding that trader meant I'd missed the strider-

But no, we'd been near the strider route for the entire search, and the hills in that area were low. If a strider had reached Maar Gan, I'd have seen it.

And indeed, Jamie was shaking her head. "I walked," she said apologetically. "The strider routes are in complete disarray - Navam's strider fell sick after the storm, he's not sure if she'll make it, up in Gnisis one broke a leg in the fresh ash and had to be put down, and apparently something happened to a strider en route to Suran although no one quite knows what. It's a real mess, everyone in Ald'ruhn is talking about it." She paused. "And... Maar Gan's not exactly the highest priority, you know. From the sounds of it, people were more focused on making sure the route from Vivec to Gnisis through Balmora and Ald'ruhn was running again."

My stomach sank. It was true that I'd suspected something was wrong when the silt strider failed to make an appearance, but suspicion was not confirmation. "You have no idea how much I did not want to hear that." Not when I was getting thoroughly tired of Maar Gan, and when I was worried I was outstaying my welcome at the Temple.

To distract myself from my woes, I asked, "So – what are you doing in Maar Gan, that's important enough you went and walked here?"

"House duties. Ah, I joined House Redoran recently-"

Now that she'd mentioned it, I spotted the scarab of Redoran embossed into her new armour, and the cloth peeking out under her gauntlets was red – House colours. "Let me guess. Athyn Sarethi offered?"

"He said he was very impressed by my conduct through the affair with his son, even after I apologised for not being able to see it through. I've heard good things about Redoran, and I've had such trouble finding honest work for a warrior, I decided to take the opportunity."

"How's that been going?" I asked, interested. I still had no intention of taking up Athyn Sarethi's invitation myself, but there was no harm in gathering information – especially given that Ajira was still considering it.

Jamie lit up. "Adryn, it's amazing. You know what I had to do last week?"

"Oh?"

"I got sent to take care of some mudcrabs bothering a guar herd. And that was it! No blackmail, nothing dodgy involving land deeds, no protection rackets, no innocents being threatened at all! The farmer was happy to see me!" The last fact was expressed in the tone of great awe.

And I'd thought I was traumatised by my various experiences on Vvardenfell. It clearly wasn't a patch on what had happened to Jamie. "I'm... happy for you?"

"And now Neminda's asked me to find a lost trader! Actually lost, actually find, no hidden orders or dirty deals!"

"That's... nice." Then Jamie's words caught up with me. "A lost trader? Um, his name wouldn't be... what was it again... Mathis Da-something by any chance?"

"Dalobar, yes." Jamie frowned. "Why do you ask?"

That, of course, was the point where the rest of the group caught up with me.

"-trust Shilipuran with my own guar," Redoran Three was telling the trader soothingly. "He's the best handler this side of the breedery in Gnisis, I've seen him calm a herd close to stampede."

"That's excellent to hear, my poor Datha and Enys deserves the best of care after I lost all their siblings in the storm- oh, hello!"

Mathis Da-something approached Jamie with the intense good cheer of someone who has just been rescued from a life-threatening experience and is of the opinion nothing can really be so bad in comparison. Or perhaps it might have been a confident man approaching a woman he thinks is rather attractive – it's the kind of thing I have little experience with from any angle, so it was hard for me to judge. "I'm Mathis Dalobar! Isn't it a fine day today!"

Jamie looked at the trader. Looked at me.

"I'd like to point out that I had very little to do with this, all things told," I defended myself. "Only scouting, really! But... look on the bright side. He's not very hard to find right now?"

"Well! It's good to see you alive and well, ser. Alds Baro was worried, and contacted Neminda who sent me out to search for you."

If we were getting a dedicated Jamie, why the search party this morning, I wondered?

"Alive and well indeed, thanks to these fine people here." Da-something gestured expansively. I ducked. "They even rescued two of my guar! The rest, alas, were lost in the storm." His face fell. "My poor guar..."

"Come on, Mathis." Tashpi slung an arm over his shoulder. "They might still turn up. For now, let's get you somewhere you can rest."

Jamie watched them go, still looking rather nonplussed. "Well, that was certainly easier than expected."

"So what's your plan now?" I asked. "Are you heading straight back to Ald'ruhn? Seems a bit of a waste, after coming out here."

"No, Neminda had something else for me near here. Another lost traveller – you do have to wonder if they sell maps here, don't you? A pilgrim, this time. Name of Beden Giladren."

I buried my face in my hands.

And now you have to imagine how those would have gone if Jamie had arrived a few days earlier.

Are you sure she's still a Redguard? That bonemould is a perfect disguise. They believed she was a Dunmer

Jamie had a mudcrab job! I love it. And Adryn has already rounded up her missing persons. What a fun episode.

@ghastley - LOL! Good point, all Jamie needs is a giant insect helm (bonemold edition) and she can try to pass as native.

And yes, Adryn wishes Jamie had turned up a few days earlier.

@Grits - I couldn't resist making poor Jamie go through the early Imperial Legion's (dodgy) and Fighter's Guild (SUPER dodgy) quests. Redoran is proving a very refreshing change of pace for her, even if Adryn seems intent on doing her quests for her.



Jamie was taken rather aback to find I'd inadvertently rescued both of her targets, in addition to a Mages' Guild apprentice. She apparently quizzed Beden on the matter in some detail, or so he told me when I ran into him later that afternoon. He'd rather insisted on pulling me into the tradehouse to buy me a drink (and had been rather confused when I ordered a wick water), which gave us ample time to catch up.

"I stuck to the story, of course, but frankly I'm not sure she bought it."

I sighed. Away from Peacock and company, in particular Rasamsi's murderous gaze, I was no longer so sure lying about that had been such a great idea. "Let me worry about that, will you? Now - you said you really want to continue with your pilgrimage? Because I must admit, in your shoes I'd be halfway back to Vivec already." Well, not actually halfway back to Vivec considering the lack of silt strider service, but it was the thought that counted.

"Saint Veloth teaches us to forge forward in adversity," Beden said primly. "Besides, I haven't even made it to Gnisis yet! I couldn't possibly call myself a pilgrim if I missed out on the Koal Cave and the Ash Mask."

I shrugged. I was slowly getting used to everyone around me being completely insane in ever new and interesting ways. "And you really want to walk it? I mean, there's not much of a choice considering the strider situation," I grimaced, "but considering what happened the last time you travelled somewhere on foot-"

"Oh, do fill me in. What did happen the last time you travelled somewhere on foot?"

I was lucky I wasn't drinking, because my sudden jerk would have spelled the end of any beverage. Beden wasn't so lucky, slopping mazte over his shirt.

"I hope you don't mind if I pull up a chair?" Jamie continued as she approached the table.

"Feel free." Beden was clearly distracted, more focused on scrubbing at the stain on his shirt. "Why do they have to add firefern to mazte up here, it's as if they think House loyalty will be achieved by dyeing your insides House colours... this is never going to come out..."

"So," Jamie said once she was seated and Beden had subsided into incoherent muttering. "I meant it. What did happen the last time you travelled somewhere on foot?"

I'd never been the best at hiding my expressions, but it wasn't as if I was totally incapable, especially given some warning. I'd never have cut it as a thief if I hadn't been capable of acting confused for the guards, and the popularity of certain card games in the undertown meant I'd have spent my entire time in Windhelm dirt poor if I'd been unable to bluff.

"I really don't know what you mean," I told Jamie now, face smooth and not giving anything away. "Beden said he told you how things went already, right? Well, I for one think catching ill in an ash storm and needing to be rescued by passing strangers is quite unfortunate. I'd hate for the same to happen to him again."

"Exactly," Beden chimed in. "Illness, helpful Ashlanders, I really don't know what's left to talk about. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go pack - I need an early start tomorrow if I'm to make it to the waystation by nightfall. Adryn, if I don't see you around, do look me up in Vivec sometime. St Olms Canton, waistworks level, just next to the Tailors and Dyers Hall. I think I can promise a discount if you should need any glassware."

That was an offer I might capitalise on. There was no such thing as too many ingredient vials and potions bottles for an alchemist.

Also, he owed me the loan of a few books.

"I'll do that," I told him. "And you can stop by if you're ever in Ald'ruhn. I'll be in the Mages' Guild, probably in the library."

After Beden had left, Jamie gave me a critical look. I squirmed. It felt a little as if she was trying to peer under my skin.

"You have been busy," she eventually said. "I'm not actually sure Athyn will believe me when I tell him about this."

I gulped. I hadn't quite managed to make the jump from the fact that Jamie had taken up Sarethi senior's invitation to join Redoran to the idea that they were most likely still in contact. "Um. I don't suppose there's any way I could persuade you not to mention it?" Sheer horror at the idea of the man's likely reaction prompted me to add, "I'll pay you."

Jamie gave me an odd look. "And claim I did it all myself? Of course not. It would be dishonourable. You deserve the credit."

Well, I'd taken Jamie for reasonably intelligent, but it was clear she was among like-minded souls in her new House.

"By the way," she went on, dismissing my suggestion as if it deserved no further consideration, "although I do, generally, approve of rescuing people from unjust kidnapping, rogue summonings, ash storms and... perfectly hospitable Ashlanders," her voice was very dry at the last, "if you want to make a habit of it I'd suggest gaining some combat skills." A pause. "Any combat skills. The Lover's Gift doesn't count. Trust me, I'm Lover-born myself - I should know."

"You are?" I asked, startled. "I hadn't realised."

"Because I don't go around using an ability which has a better than even chance to knock me unconscious in the middle of a fight, which brings me back to my original point. Adryn, if you're going to keep getting into these situations, you need to learn to fight."

"It's not as if I do it intentionally!" I protested, stung. "These things just... happen!"

Jamie paused, reflecting for a moment. "You know, if anything that strengthens my point."

I gritted my teeth. Somehow, I couldn't argue that.

I could, however, change the subject.

"So, what are you planning to do now? Since it sounds like you're out of people to rescue. Head straight back to Ald'ruhn?"

Jamie gave me a look that indicated she knew what I was doing, but would go with it for now. "Seems so. A bit of a waste, seeing as it's two full days on foot, but there's no point in standing around and it doesn't sound like there's much to do in Maar Gan."

"Trust me," I said gloomily, "there's not."

Jamie's lips quirked in a smile. "I figured you might know. In fact... speaking of that. I did come find you again for a reason."

"Oh?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to head back to Ald'ruhn with me? There's really no saying how long the silt strider network will be down, and you don't seem particularly happy to be stuck here. I'll protect you from any danger on the way."

On the one hand, the possible danger even with a trained warrior-

-on the other, not being stuck in blasted Maar Gan anymore.

Had I been speaking of two hands? How strange, because right now I could only see one here.

"Thank you so much," I told Jamie. "When do we leave?"

To be back in Ald'ruhn again!

I knew I'd once had misgivings towards the city - thanks to details such as the ash, ash storms, illicit smuggling ring of mind-controlling statues, population mainly consisting of Redorans, and the architecture meaning it was very hard to shake the nagging feeling that the doorways might decide to eat me - but honestly, they seemed like trifles from this vantage point. Ald'ruhn was a proper city, with proper taverns, shops, libraries, guards who could go search for lost pilgrims without dragging innocent passersby into it, and - of course - a guild hall with a guild guide network point. Ald'ruhn meant civilization. I couldn't help the smile tugging at my cheeks at the thought.

Jamie smiled back at me. Unlike her usual quirk of the lips, this one spread over her face, quite transforming her usually severe features. It suited her, I thought. "I was hoping you'd say yes - it's always boring journeying on your own, and I wouldn't feel well leaving you behind. We'll need to head out in the first hour, to make sure we have enough time to reach the camp at Bal Isra by sunset. Meet outside the Temple?"

We shook on it.



Notes: Another chapter break, I'm afraid - I'll do my best to keep it short, but I still have to clean up a few things in chapter 19 prior to starting to post and the next few weeks are looking super busy for me.

"Oh, do fill me in. What did happen the last time you travelled somewhere on foot?"

Ooo, it will be nice to have a discount at a glassmaker!

Oh hooray, an escort back to Ald'ruhn! I wonder if Jamie will sneak in some fighting lessons on the way.

No need, you can rely on cliff-racers to do that!

My apologies for the wait! I meant to have this chapter sorted earlier, but my life went a little nuts and I didn't have much time left over for writing.

@Grits + @ghastley - Jamie would certainly like to! But I think everyone is still underestimating Adryn's stubbornness here - even in the face of cliff racers.

Last chapter, Adryn continued her adventures around Maar Gan, to the point where when Jamie - newest member of House Redoran and off to prove herself on rescue missions - showed up, she was surprised to find that Adryn had rescued both the mer in distress she'd been sent for. Now, the two of them are off back to Ald'ruhn together. Who knows, perhaps this will get Methal - the strange high-ranking-but-pretending-not-to-be Temple member who seems very invested in getting Adryn to join up - off her back. After all, he has no reason to go out of his way for an ordinary, unimportant person like Adryn... right?



As agreed, Jamie and I set off early the next day. I bade a fond farewell to Tashpi, who suggested meeting to exchange alchemy tips when she was next in Ald'ruhn (an offer I accepted with due gratitude, although I suspected that date might be in the Fourth Age considering the current state of the strider service). My goodbye to Methal was more surprising, as he began making noises about coming with us - noises that only stopped when Scarecrow's agonised expression grew completely impossible to ignore. I gathered there were still some duties in Maar Gan the man should see to. Odd that he'd wanted to go with us - he hadn't struck me as a shirker.

Truth be told, I was relieved when he finally gave up. I liked Methal well enough, especially for a higher-up, but I wanted to put Maar Gan and what had happened there behind me for now. Besides, I didn't know how Jamie would react to me inviting a third person along on her jaunt without asking.

The rain of two nights ago was a distant memory. Thankfully, the ash-storm before that was also one. We toiled through dry, gritty ash underneath a cloudless blue sky. The sun, I thought, wasn't as strong as it should be considering that fact - Vvardenfell's climate was different enough from Windhelm's that I had trouble finding my bearings, but still there were signs showing that we were now in mid-Frostfall, autumn well and truly here with winter slowly beginning its approach.

In fact, I realised with a start after counting the days, it was Witches' Festival today. In Daggerfall, the Mages' Guild would be doing a brisk business, various magic users would be getting drunk and planning to perform some difficult, dangerous, and generally ill-advised spells - the fact that this was not the best of combinations would go ignored - and I'd be staying inside tonight for more reasons than the undead. Dimly, I could remember Witches' Festival in the village, before Fjaldir had brought me to the orphanage in Daggerfall City. The coven on the hilltop had celebrated all night long, me glued to the window watching the strange lights and listening to the eerie noises until the woman with the pinched face (what had her name been?) dragged me away, scolding. It hadn't been celebrated in Skyrim, though, and it was quite possible Morrowind followed suit.

Morrowind did follow suit, Jamie told me when I asked. She'd encountered Witches' Festival when she travelled to Hammerfell, but it was near unknown outside the western provinces. On reflection, I decided this was probably a good thing.

"Yes," Jamie agreed, "I think we have more than enough reckless mages around already." She must be talking about Huleen's unfortunate apprentice, I decided, the look she cast me being sheer coincidence. After all, I prided myself on being a cautious, intelligent person. It was hardly my fault if the universe had it out for me.

We stopped for lunch shortly before the sun reached its zenith, not far past the tomb where the unfortunate trader had taken shelter (we'd given it a respectfully wide berth). The trunk of an old fallen tree half-buried in ash looked like an excellent seat; I immediately tested this and approved it with a loud groan.

I needed the break. I didn't really have the endurance to keep wandering the Ashlands day after day, particularly now that I was toting my pack. My legs were killing me.

Jamie, I noted jealously, looked fresh as new snow - or ash, in this case - despite the fact that her pack was heavier than mine and she was wearing full armour. Maybe there was something to be said for warrior training after all.

Of course, such endurance was only necessary if one was wandering the Ashlands day after day, which was really something I'd prefer to avoid.

Then Jamie stood up triumphantly from where she'd been rummaging in her pack, the bread and scuttle she'd bought from the tradehouse this morning in her hands, and I lost my train of thought as my stomach growled.

Lunch was delicious, a fact I suspected had more to do with how hungry I was than its components. At any rate, after I finished off my share of the bread and scuttle along with a nice handful of dried comberries and sugared ash yam slices, my legs declared themselves ready for more walking.

The landscape changed from there. On our right, a chain of hills steep and high enough I wouldn't object to calling them mountains rose into the air. Jamie said, and my map agreed, that they formed the boundary between the Ashlands and the West Gash. Some seeds must make their way over, because here and there I found stands of kresh, roobrush and chokeweed, none looking all too healthy but still well enough to survive some cuttings.

Jamie was graciously patient whenever I stopped to gather ingredients. "Honestly," she said, "I wish I was able to identify them. It'd be a good way of earning a little money." She grimaced. "House Redoran duties are significantly cleaner than the missions I got from the Fighter's Guild or the Legion, but they don't exactly pay well."

Now here was something I could commiserate with. "Tell me about it. I keep hearing about an apprentice's stipend from the guild, but somehow it never materialises. I'm hoping I can sell these," I gave my pack (which, between now and yesterday, was quite stuffed with ingredients) a little shake, "to Ajira, or Anarenen - I mean, really I'd like to brew potions to sell, but I don't have the equipment for it to be worthwhile and I can't use any of the guild setup for that."

Apparently using Ajira's equipment to brew potions for my own use had been a grey area already; brewing potions to sell pushed it straight into illicit use of guild materials. Anarenen, the sour-faced alchemist of the Ald'ruhn guild, wasn't even willing to allow personal brewing.

I pushed the unpleasant memory away and continued. "I need to make the most of it while I'm out here, because it's not like it's safe for me to travel the wilds on my own..."

I stopped talking. Jamie stopped walking. Our eyes met in a shared understanding.

"...of course, it would be an entirely different matter if you had someone with you," Jamie spoke the thought out loud. "Someone capable of fighting, but not able to reliably collect useful ingredients herself. I'm certain such a person would be happy to play bodyguard for a share of the profits."

"I think such a thing could definitely be arranged, no?" True, I'd prefer a method of making money that kept me in the cities, but none seemed to be forthcoming. This should be safe enough, and - of course - might let me indulge in proper alchemy again. If I had a steady flow of ingredients, it'd be worth the investment in a decent mortar and pestle, a retort and an alembic - and didn't I have a glassmaker in my debt in Beden?

After that, I walked with a spring in my step. My pack seemed lighter, my legs stronger, the whole world a little brighter. I hadn't realised how much my lack of income had been gnawing at me until I had a plan to deal with it. I supposed poverty, experienced even once, left something of a mark. Jamie, too, seemed rather relieved. I was a little surprised that she was having the same problems... well, not that surprised, come to think of it. Athyn Sarethi hadn't exactly struck me as a mer in touch with the common person and their financial woes; chances were much of the House was similar.

Really, the reasons not to join House Redoran kept piling up.

The shadows were growing long and even my newfound zest for life was no longer keeping the pain from my legs when Jamie called a halt.

"See there?" She pointed at a plateau up ahead. "That's Bal Isra, our camp."

Truthfully, I'd been prepared for a grim night. I didn't have a bedroll, and Jamie's pack didn't look large enough to have one for two - or one - or a tent, for that matter. As we neared Bal Isra, I was trying to convince myself that the ash was really quite comfortable, all things told.

Unnecessarily. Up close, I could make out a crevice in the rock. Jamie steered straight towards it, then ducked inside. Not long after, torchlight spilled out into the gathering gloom.

The narrow entrance led into a small cave system which was decked out for travellers. Firewood was stacked along the sides, torches hung at regular intervals, there was a small firepit with an iron pot beneath a smokehole, and - of course - screens made of wood and hide hid several cots from the entrance.

"I stayed here on the way to Maar Gan - Neminda told me about this place," Jamie said. "Apparently it was set up by some of the Redoran scouts, and they patrol it often to restock and make sure it doesn't get occupied by bandits or the like. Very handy for travellers and pilgrims, since it's just about halfway between Maar Gan and Ald'ruhn. Now, can you grab some of those blankets?"

Jamie's long experience travelling showed in how efficiently she set about arranging our night's stay. In what felt like no time at all, two cots were equipped with blankets and pillows (all thoroughly gone over with the little draining cantrip I'd learned as a child that would kill any lice or fleas clinging to the cloth), a fire was crackling merrily in the small firepit and the smell of cooking stew spread through the cave. I hadn't even objected all that much to being ordered around - it was clear Jamie knew what she was doing, and although I'd have liked to simply collapse on one of the cots and not move until tomorrow she had made the very cogent point that collapsing on a cot with a full stomach and the knowledge I wouldn't wake up covered in bites the next morning was a much better course of action.

"Food's done!" Jamie called from the fire.

The stew was tasty enough. I had to admire Jamie's culinary skills - the items that had gone into it had not looked particularly promising, but the cooking process had transformed them to the point where I took seconds.

"You're good at this," I told her.

Jamie's lips pulled into a wry smile. "Thanks - it's good to know I haven't lost the touch. I spent a large part of my teenage years dealing with food that... varied in quality, let's say. I had to learn how to make the most of what we had, or else suffer."

Now that was an interesting tidbit about my friend's younger years. Ordinarily, I - firm believer in privacy that I was - would leave it up to Jamie to share more if she wanted. However, as it so happened we were stuck in a cave together with still a few hours to go before we could sensibly go to bed. Nosiness, I decided, was excusable if it kept us from sitting there awkwardly staring at each other in silence for that time.

"Were you poor, then? In... I forget where you said you were from. Somewhere in Cyrodiil?"

"Kvatch. And - no, my family ran a goods store after my step-father sold his old farm, we were well off as such things went. But I left home when I was fairly young. Fell in with a bad crowd, I'm sorry to say." Jamie stared into the fire as though it held the secrets of Apocrypha, her bowl of stew forgotten by her knee. "Morrowind's been a fresh start for me. I'm not sure I deserve one, but since I have it I'll make the most of it."

I blinked, surprised. Whatever I'd expected the past of our new member of House Redoran and teller-off of Imperial Generals to be like, that wasn't it.

As happened far too often, my thoughts ended up in my speech without my brain having a chance to intervene. "Really? I thought you were all about the brain-lichen - I mean, code of honour, chivalry, righteousness, all that ro-" I cut myself off with a fake cough.

The reason Jamie and I were on the way to friendship while Varvur and I emphatically were not was that she laughed. "Now I am! But when I was younger, I was angry at the world... figured that because it had been nasty to me, I could be nasty right back. Except that most often it ended up as being nasty to people who'd had nothing to do with what happened to me, but who were there and couldn't defend themselves." Jamie's lips pressed together into a thin line. "I grew out of that particular brand of self-centeredness eventually, but not nearly as quickly as I should have."

I frowned. I had to admit that even though the world had definitely been 'nasty', as Jamie put it, to me as well, I'd never been tempted to take that out on others. Still, it was a reaction I'd seen before, even if I failed to understand it... and there was something else that bothered me about that story.

"And then you turned around and joined House Redoran? Don't you think that's a bit of an extreme reaction? I mean, obviously you shouldn't hurt people," why this didn't go without saying was frankly beyond me, "but a little selfishness is good for you."

Jamie snorted. "A little selfishness? Adryn, I'm not entirely sure you even know what the word means." And while I was reeling from that underhanded blow, she followed up mercilessly. "Look, I know you like mocking ideals like honour and chivalry. And I agree that sometimes they get... impractical. But have you considered what the alternative would be?" Dark eyes bored into mine. "A world full of people just out for themselves, who don't care who they trample on their way to where they want to go. That's not a world I want to live in. Do you?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it again. There was something wrong with that line of argument, I knew it-

(A small golden-skinned boy, crouched warily over his bowl of stew and shooting me occasional half-awed, half-mistrustful glances-

A Nord man and woman, dirty, clad in rags, plainly terrified, jeers rising in the air around them. My own voice (really? my voice?) cutting through them - "So, I take it we have driven out our enemy only to become them in turn."

Ingerte at fifteen, arms crossed and face set in a deep frown- "Explain to me again why we shouldn't just stay out of the whole mess?"

A Bosmer looking at me pleadingly- Varvur, hands trembling, eyes fixed on something only he could see- Beden, half-heartedly pulling at his bonds with an expression of resignation-)

I felt dizzy and ill. I wanted nothing more than to argue Jamie's point, but in that moment the words required were simply beyond me.

Thankfully, Jamie didn't push it any farther - leaving me speechless was apparently enough for her. (A rare occasion, in truth, and one I would usually fight my hardest against, but sometimes one has to cut one's losses.) After the pause began to lengthen, she shifted backwards to retrieve her stew, then said, "So - how much money do you think we could make, selling ingredients?"

I seized on the change of subject with some degree of haste. Unkind people might go so far as to call it desperation. "Well, it depends on where we can go and if we can find a buyer with a particular need. Of course, I could increase our profit margin by quite a large amount if I had access to a set of alchemy apparatus of at least Journeyman quality, but even failing that..."

As I talked, I did my best to put the conversation we'd had prior, and how deeply uncomfortable it had made me, out of my mind.



Notes: Everyone congratulate Jamie on proving herself a true Redoran who follows in Athyn Sarethi's footsteps by hitting Adryn over the head with some home truths! Adryn is less than pleased about this.

I am getting caught up (in both senses of the word) with Adryn's story- and loving it. The only benefit of letting life get in the way is how much excellent Kazaera goodness that provides when I return. So- for the now- here are a few specific comments.

And another vote in favor of seeing the youthful Divayth Fyr. Again, your technomancy is riveting and a joy to read.



More enjoyable alchemy with Tashpi. And yes, I am afraid she is probably right not to leave Adryn alone to … experiment on her own.



Now that is a sentiment Trey endorses completely.

The musings on the failings of the Mages Guild also ring true. And yet, that “spare room” in Balmora was quite a safe haven (barring the occasional Dark Brotherhood attack), especially for someone whose former 'home' was a stall in the stable.

And Adryn- of course- manages to learn just enough Dunmeris to get into trouble. That's our elf!

The poignancy of Adryn's memories of having to wrap her feet- that whole memory is simply beautiful and brilliant and sad.

And the Sixth House still freaks me out. I can remember playing late on a dark night and being in one of the Chimer fortresses or Morvayn Manor (shivers).

I love your description of slogging through the autumnal ash.

Drunken, dangerous, difficult, and ill-advised magic? Sign me up!

The West Gash always sounded dirty to me...

Delousing spells sound like an excellent idea!

Brain-lichen!

Congratulations on Jamie drenching Adryn the Ice-Bucket Truth Challenge. Ethics and decency are not always being sappy and naive, but are also quiet practical.

There are none so zealous as the freshly-converted.

@treydog - thank you for the long review!! I'm glad you are still appreciating Adryn in all her twitchy glory, along with supporting characters such as baby Divayth Fyr (who really grew on me) and propylon index technomagery (which... may come up again).

Re: Sixth House - I forget if I mentioned it in this thread, but back when I was playing Morrowind I used to refuse to enter caves for fear I'd run into a Sixth House base. The quest-related bases I got through via a constant-effect ring of levitation that let me float my way through on the ceiling. So creepy, Bethesda why.

Anyway...

Last installment, Adryn and Jamie made the trek back from Maar Gan to Ald'ruhn on foot due to the problems with the silt strider network. This included a night sheltering in a cave near Bal Isra, where Adryn got to know her newly-Redoran guildmate a little better... and Jamie shook up Adryn's cynical worldview a little. Now, let's see how she's getting on in Ald'ruhn....



The Argonian frowned at me when I entered the guild hall. Some vague memory, probably from Balmora breakfasts, told me he was the Ald'ruhn guild's spellmaker, but I couldn't remember his name for the life of me. I hadn't exactly had a round of introductions.

"Apprentice, where have you been?" He, on the other hand, apparently knew exactly who I was and that I'd been absent longer than expected. Awkward. "Edwinna expected you back days ago."

"I guess you missed the ash storm, then," I said wearily. "And the disaster that is the current state of the silt strider network. And... you know what, is Edwinna in? I'll just discuss this with her."

Edwinna was, in fact, in, and I was gratified to see that her demeanour was more concerned than scolding.

"I am truly sorry," she told me in the same breath as her greeting. "I had no idea I was sending you into anything dangerous, Huleen is always so sensible." Her lips thinned. "Listien has been thoroughly chastened for his recklessness, if it helps."

I shrugged. I couldn't deny having harboured dark thoughts towards Edwinna for her role in this whole mess, but seeing her so obviously repentant softened me. She couldn't have known, and the ash storm and what resulted had really not been her fault.

"Here, take these for your service to the guild. I think you might find them useful."

The scrolls Edwinna passed me were enchanted strongly enough to nearly blind my magic-sense. Most apprentices would probably not have been able to work out what they did without setting them off. Most apprentices also hadn't spent several years running high-profile burglaries and fencing enchanted goods. I could tell at a glance that these would trigger very strong protective spells.

Useful? Maybe. Valuable? Absolutely. These would fetch a more than handsome amount at an enchanter's, which should help tide over my financial woes until Jamie and I had a chance to get started.

"In case you run into any more trouble." Edwinna's voice was rather dry.

"In all honesty, I was rather hoping to avoid more trouble," I told her. "Unless you have another mission for me?" When I asked the question, my voice might not have contained quite the amount of enthusiasm a guild superior might want. In fact, traces of dread could be found.

Edwinna didn't take it personally. Instead, she gave me a rueful smile. "Actually, the latest shipment from the mainland came in just a day or so after you left, with the latest editions of the Cyrodiilic and Summerset journals. So I have some reading for you to do – no Daedra involved."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that," I said with full, heartfelt sincerity. "Just give me the books, I'll take care of the rest."



Sadly for my dreams of burying myself underneath a pile of books and not emerging for at least a few days, Jamie had other ideas.

"I really don't see why I have to come along for this," I told her as I was towed in her wake through the streets of Ald'ruhn. "You're the one who told this Neminda you'd go out rescuing people, I wasn't involved. I'm not even a member of House Redoran!"

Jamie's brisk stride didn't even falter. "All the same," she responded without turning her head, "you're the one who actually rescued both the men in question. It wouldn't be fair for me to claim the credit on your behalf. Or," she paused suggestively, "the reward."

An obvious lure, one which would work far better if Jamie hadn't told me already that rewards for House Redoran duties ran from paltry to nonexistent. "Tell you what, I hereby grant you permission to claim all credit and any reward on my behalf. Really. Truly. Honestly." I paused. "Please?"

Judging by the way she continued walking, Jamie did not please.

My shoulders slumped in defeat. "At least tell me Athyn Sarethi won't be there."

Alas for me, it quickly proved not to be my day. The office somewhere in the depths under Skar which Jamie led me to had two occupants. One was another Redguard – the Neminda I'd heard her mention, I suspected. The other was exactly the person I'd been hoping not to see. The two of them were bent over something on the large oak table in the middle of the room, but looked up when we entered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Jamie said quickly. "I'll come back later-"

Yes, I added silently. Please, let her come back later. Much later, at a point in time where I will find I have an insurmountable scheduling conflict, so sorry.

"Oh, don't worry," said Sarethi. "Neminda and I were just finishing, and I'd like to hear how things went in Maar Gan-" His eyebrows went up as he saw me enter behind Jamie. "Adryn?"

Neminda frowned. "We do have some expection of discretion regarding House business, Retainer," she told Jamie.

"Exactly!" I seized on the excuse with the desperation of a drowning mer. "Top-secret discussions to be had, no doubt. I'll just let myself out-"

"With all due respect, Kinswoman," Jamie cut across me, "Adryn of the Mages' Guild was the one who actually completed both missions I was assigned before I even reached Maar Gan. As a result, she needs to be here more than I do."

There was a beat of silence.

"All right," said Sarethi. "This I have to hear."

The resulting debriefing was not pleasant. It became even less pleasant when Sarethi began laughing halfway through.

"A little decorum, please?" I noted with interest that Neminda didn't seem in any way afraid of telling her superior off. The contrast to the way Scarecrow had been thoroughly intimidated by Methal was stark. Perhaps Neminda was a naturally strong personality.

"My apologies." Sarethi accepted the scolding with good grace. "What did you say happened after you reached the Ashlander camp?"

Beneath the steady stare of three pairs of eyes, one of which was promising me that she'd already been skeptical of this story in Maar Gan and had no intention of being silent about her doubts now, I caved. Sarethi, Neminda and Jamie got treated to the way things had actually gone.

"I don't like this story of Ashlanders kidnapping pilgrims." Neminda's frown was fierce. "We might need to make an example, demonstrate that this is not acceptable-"

I swallowed. Suddenly, the fears of bloody retribution I'd heard the Velothi I'd met express no longer felt so far-fetched.

"Hold," Sarethi interrupted. "We have decent relations with the Urshilaku overall. I'm not willing to risk losing that for a few rogues that, it sounds like, Adryn here has already removed as a threat." He nodded in my direction. I wondered how it was possible that the floor still hadn't swallowed me.

"So you'd do nothing?" Neminda sounded disbelieving.

"No, you're right, not responding at all would send the wrong message entirely. Hmm..." Sarethi tapped his fingers on the desk contemplatively. "I think it would be best to send someone to speak with their Ashkhan, about his control over his people and the possible consequences of letting young hotheads range unchecked. A new member of the House, perhaps, who was unable to complete her last duties through no fault of her own." He gave Jamie a significant look.

Jamie straightened. "I'd be honoured, sir." Then she glanced at me. "Er... you're not planning to travel to Urshilaku lands anytime soon, are you?"

I owed Jamie for her assistance in a way for me to finally make some money, never to mention her help with Varvur. Therefore, I decided, I would forgive her the fact that she'd just made Sarethi snort with laughter.

"I have no intention of setting foot outside town anytime soon," I told her. "However, if it makes you feel better, if I do end up in Urshilaku lands I promise not to speak to their leaders at all."

I thought Jamie's sigh of relief was really quite unnecessary.



I left the Redoran administration complex about an hour later, feeling thoroughly drained but quite appeased through the newfound heaviness of my purse. The awkward way Neminda had pushed the septim coin my way, never to mention Jamie's rather jealous look, made me suspect that nothing would have been forthcoming had I been a member of House Redoran – however, it would be a rather bad look to not just have an outsider come in and solve your problems but also fail to reward them. Another reason to be happy I hadn't taken Sarethi up on his invitation.

After my recounting of my part in the rescue of Beden and the trader, we'd circled back to my experiences at Falasmaryon. As I'd suspected, Sarethi was quite disturbed to hear of what I'd found there (most likely imagining the same thing I had – a shambling Varvur with tentacles growing out of his face) and the three Redoran had been deeply involved in a discussion about how to best support the Temple in its investigation when I'd finally been able to leave. Now, to go back to the Mages' Guild in order to finally bury myself in books...

A sign caught my eye. Cienne Sintieve – Alchemist.

All right. Back to the Mages' Guild after a minor detour.

The Breton alchemist proved to be quite friendly and very willing to talk shop with a newcomer. I emerged with a good dose of gossip, a far better understanding of the way fire-fern's alchemical properties were affected by drying, and a potential customer. Cienne had professed herself willing to buy ingredients, but also told me that she was being run ragged keeping up with things after her last assistant had quit and would gladly buy potions brewed to a professional standard as well. Her need for healing, rejuvenating and disease resistance potions was apparently particularly dire; I silently repeated the list under my breath as I passed through the wide doors that formed the entrance to Under-Skar and stepped back in the ashy wastelands.

Perhaps I should have paid less attention to the potential of profit and more to where I was walking, because I tripped on the wide steps leading down from the commercial district around Skar. I barely managed to catch myself before I fell flat on my face, an act that involved the unwilling assistance of an older Dunmer woman. She brushed my hand away from her arm with extreme prejudice, levelled me with a glare that should have incinerated me on the spot, spat something that did not sound at all friendly in Dunmeris and stormed away.

"Well, sorry," I grumbled. "Next time I'll make sure to take you with me." After a moment to make sure I was steady on my feet, I started my trek back to the guild. Then stopped again. My near-fall had shifted the contents of my pockets, and something annoyingly pointy was poking me in the thigh with every step. I dug around to retrieve the culprit, and found myself holding the crystal that had sent me to Falasmaryon.

I found my fingers loosening quite by themselves. Ash puffed up where the thing hit the ground, and I took a large step back.

Then my rational mind caught up to events.

I didn't remember quite what I'd done before my impromptu displacement, but I was sure I'd sent magicka at it somehow – especially because the day beforehand, both Methal and I had handled it without any incident.

More importantly, it was an ancient Chimer artifact with mysterious powers and possible Dwemer influence. An excellent item for an aspiring apprentice in Dwemer research to give her prospective master, especially as certain puzzle cubes were out of the picture. That was definitely a better way of getting rid of the thing than leaving it in the dirt.

I dug in my pocket for a handkerchief, which I used to very, very carefully pick the crystal back up, making sure to keep my magical senses firmly to myself all the while. Then, with long strides, I made my way back to the Mages' Guild.



Edwinna was less keen than I was.

"It's clearly not Dwemer," she said. "This is silver, see, and primitively worked – the Dwemer would have used their own alloys, and certainly not such a poor forge. Late Chimeris work, I'd say, in the Council era. Popular as it is, I've never been convinced by the theory of Dwemer influence on the Chimer, not when we see no traces of such in the modern Dunmer... and honestly, I have enough work with actual Dwemer artifacts that I don't need to follow spurious leads." She dropped the crystal back into my palm. I suppressed a flinch.

"So it's useless, then?" I asked, dejected.

"Not useless, no!" Edwinna looked shocked. "Simply not Dwemer, and not of interest to me, but – and never tell anyone I said this – the Dwemer aren't all there is to the world." She gave me a conspirational wink. Despite myself, I could feel my lips stretch in a smile. I found myself wishing I'd joined the guild in Ald'ruhn, not Balmora - their guild-mistresses were as different as day and night, and I knew which one I preferred.

"In fact," Edwinna went on, "if I remember correctly, Folms Mirel has been looking for items that look like these. Head of the Caldera guild," she explained, correctly interpreting my quizzical look. "He's been talking about crystals connected to the ancient Chimer fortresses. Propylon indexes, I think he called them. No wonder, either, if they're capable of teleportation – it's Folms' primary research interest, he's the one who's largely to thank for the guild guide network."

The name did ring a bell, now that she'd explained. If I remembered correctly, he was the guild head Ajira and I had ruled out because he specialised in Mysticism and enchanting. Well, with luck, even with our very disparate research interests we'd find some common ground in the crystal- the propylon index. Preferably common ground that involved either solely indoor apprentice duties, or the exchange of money.

"Thanks for letting me know," I told Edwinna now. "I'll definitely talk to him." I considered for a moment. "Tomorrow."

There was a pile of books that had been calling my name for hours now. Everything else could wait.

So we appear to have had a concurrency problem involving responses! Sorry ghastley, SubRosa, I didn't see your comments before posting the new update. Quick responses here -

@SubRosa - thanks so much for the review!! I like trying to make TES come alive - slogging through ash being one of those ways, delousing spells being another. People being people, I always feel like the little, everyday spells for making life easier should eclipse the combat ones.

And re: Ice Bucket of Truth - this is actually one of the things that is super fun to play with, writing Adryn. She's a fairly unreliable narrator in a number of ways and one of those is that her self-professed cynical worldview is not consistent, either internally or with how she acts. This gets more extreme as she gets Nerevar's memories (who was something of a big damn hero and did not hold with selfishness) trickling into her subconscious. Adryn is good at lying to herself so this is probably often not all that obvious, so it's very fun to occasionally toss an Athyn Sarethi or a Jamie her way and bash her over the head with her own inconsistency - even if she's not ready to face up to it quite yet.

@ghastley - yeah, Jamie's fairly rigid about some of these things thanks to her own past. She figures she has things to atone for and that she knows how bad the alternative is. That said, I think her experience here does make her more sympathetic to someone who doesn't toe the honour-and-chivalry line in every detail than, say, Varvur.

Most apprentices also hadn't spent several years running high-profile burglaries and fencing enchanted goods
Most apprentices probably have not!

Sounds like it is time to go Propyloning from one ancient Chimer stronghold to another!

Over the Ashlands and through the West Gash
To Dagon's house we go!
the guar knows the way to carry the giant bug carapace
through the white and drifted ash.

So Adryn's Morrowind is the one where there's a Master Index, and the propylon chambers are actually a viable means of transportation? I'll be learning a lot from this, because I never installed that plug-in.

I seem to remember that not all of the propylon chambers are safe to visit, even if you can reach them. And since you can often travel to one, and not be able to take the next link, you're as stuck as Adryn was on her first visit.

Still reading- still savoring. Do not want to rush, because I will miss some Adryn gem of almost-wisdom....

The whole opening encounter with Missun is a treat. Too many highlights to pick each one, so more of what passes for Adryn self-examination will have to do:

[quote]Alas for me, my allotted portion of wisdom had been replaced by more curiosity at birth.[/quote]

[quote]Personally, I thought it would be really nice if I could stop insulting people when I wasn't actively trying. Past experience also told me this feat would probably require divine intervention, but I could at least try.[/quote]

Good to recognize our limitations- or perhaps be fortunate enough to go someplace where not everybody is ready to be insulted at a moment's notice....

[quote]"I, the great Manat Shimmabadas," I silently tried that last name on for size and decided he could stay Peacock, "have taken a Redoran noble captive!"[/quote]

That had me laughing out loud. And apparently netch leather is what all the Vvardenfellian rebels and juvenile delinquents wear- there must be some "morphic resonance" (to steal outrageously from Terry Pratchett) with The Wild One from our 'verse. The scarves and goggles just make it even more perfect.

[quote]"Somehow," the woman snapped, "I think if she were on an errand of rescue she would be wearing shoes."[/quote]

And that's me laughing until I cry again.

[quote]"I didn't realise Redoran honour bent far enough to allow for such practicalities. I thought you lot demanded one stomp straight into the ambush, shouting for your cowardly foes to show themselves."[/quote]

Sounds about right.

And the entire interaction with Beden, most especially Adryn's defensive reaction that her willingness to be helpful is somehow Athyn Sarethi's fault....

I want to quote the entire "negotiation," especially with Adryn's internal commentary- but leave it at this- it is all brilliant.

[quote]My professional pride refused to let such an outrage pass. "Revenge? Have you lost your mind? This is- it's business, it's not personal! The appropriate response to being outsmarted is not to come after the smarter person with a big stick!" I blurted out.[/quote]

And there is the non-Redoran part of Adryn- what she would refer to as the "sane" part, even while protesting there "is no Redoran part- at all."

Ah Beden is such a delight, and not just to Adryn. (Easy, Adryn- you don't like other people, remember? Probably another issue to be laid at Athyn's door.)

[quote]Maar Gan, a place which I decided I truly hadn't appreciated as much as it deserved on my first visit. After all, for all its odd and unfortunate problem with Daedra, it still boasted such wondrous things as armed guards, inhabitants in possession of their full cranial capacity, and... of course... my shoes.[/quote]

So much fun- with more to come.

Additional added comments appear below.

[quote]I guessed my face must have been something of a picture; I decided to fix this fact by burying it in my hands.

"What is it," I spoke to my palms, "with this island and asking me, an alchemist, to do things like searching for lost travellers in the wilderness. You know, the one with dangerous wildlife like kagouti, Blighted guar and cliff racers," to say nothing of ancient fortresses beset by horrors, Velothi turned to kidnapping, naked men of varying races, and similar horrors, "things that you need combat skills to deal with."

"Um. Do you need a potion? More tea?"

"I need to get back to a place where people are sane."[/quote]


A long quote, I know, but it so perfectly captures Adryn- and also the dilemma of anyone who goes into Morrowind hoping to be a "peaceful traveler".

As always, I love Adryn's inability to learn or recall names- probably because I suffer from that social deficit myself. And your descriptions of how magic works are a joy to read.

[quote]"Guar-mad." Redoran Two shook her head. "He should go become a herder or something."[/quote]

Where have I seen that term before? And... if I can ever get to the end of it, we may be seeing it again in a Postcard from Tamriel....

[quote]The Redorans, Tashpi and I traded glances, united across our very disparate lives and values in the shared thought of dear gods, what is this man or possibly why bother bringing guards when he could just incinerate anything that looked at him the wrong way. Our moment of quiet, mutual understanding ... or possibly the word I was looking for was 'horror' ... was broken by a faint call from inside the tomb.[/quote]

Eeeep!

[quote]Standing in the ashy wastes, waiting for a woman to finish thanking some draugr-equivalents for not gruesomely murdering a poor lost man seeking shelter from a storm, for a moment the sheer alien nature of this land pressed down on me.[/quote]

Sometimes it hits you in the face- other times it just creeps up on you- and then "outlander" takes on a whole different meaning.

The fact that the strider service can be unreliable- especially in a place with homicidal wildlife, really bad diseases, and ash storms- makes for a nice bit of "fantasy realism" and also can justify not abusing fast-travel.

Have to love Adryn's whole denial- "I am nothing like a Redoran! I'm only looking out for myself- and possibly some new alchemy ingredients! How is it my fault that I rescued all these people?"

[quote]"It's not as if I do it intentionally!" I protested, stung. "These things just... happen!"[/quote]

See above...

[quote]...the architecture meaning it was very hard to shake the nagging feeling that the doorways might decide to eat me[/quote]

Yeah- might just put one off sleeping indoors...

@SubRosa - hahaha, I love the song! ...Adryn does not. Adryn is looking rather horrified at the song.

@ghastley - ..yyyeees kind of? I've taken some liberties with the propylon indexes; my justification is that there are in-story reasons for why they react differently to Adryn than literally anyone else, which should be fairly obvious from some of the Nerevar flashbacks. But Folms Mirel is definitely hard at work trying to make a master index!

@treydog - thanks for the super-detailed review! I'm very happy you like Adryn's lack of name memory; I'm also fairly bad at names, but it's also a trick I'm using to try to make some of the bit-part secondary characters more memorable. (I also on occasion use it for some character detail; there's a bit of a pattern in which names Adryn remembers and which she doesn't.)

And lol @ delinquent netch leather armour! I imagine it to be a cheap, lightweight and fairly versatile armour which is easier to come by than chitin, bonemold or metal... which, come to think of it, does make it a good choice for delinquents.

Last installment, Adryn made it back to Ald'ruhn, where she was forcibly debriefed by Athyn Sarethi and co. and learned that although Edwinna wasn't interested in propylon indexes one Folms Mirel of the Caldera guild might be happy to take hers off her hands. Last we saw her, she was burying herself in books.

Probably at some point not long after, she went to sleep in her bed in the Ald'ruhn dorms, and dreamed...



As a Chimer, I'd lived my entire life under the open sky. I'd only ever been in a structure more permanent than a yurt in order to do honour to my ancestors at their tomb, or during the few times I'd had business in the Nords' settlements. Embarking on a visit to Dumac's underground city had brought me far deeper underground than any of those. I wasn't sure I liked it.

"Duck here," Dumac instructed. In the glow of the lamps affixed to the corridor walls (too steady for firelight, but lacking the blue undertone and magical hum of magelight) I could see him follow his own advice, curly hair brushing the metal ceiling.

As it so happened, I was short enough I could pass through the gap upright. Still, the sight made me consider the ceiling... and the earth above, a mountain that would collapse and crush us if it weren't for that thin strip of metal and the arched supports every few feet.

Correction. I definitely didn't like this.

"Is it much farther?" The words escaped me quite without my will; I bit my tongue, but too late to hold them back. At least, I consoled myself, they'd come out sounding believably nonchalant.

Judging by Dumac's glance back at me, he didn't agree. "Not much farther, no. This was the narrowest part, we've almost reached the cavern."

A snort from behind me, where the rest of Dumac's... clan-mates? Hunt-group? I still didn't understand Dwemer social structures- were bringing up the rear. "Imagine being afraid of being underground," a voice whispered, soft but loud enough for me to hear.

Never one to take that sort of comment lying down, the perfect response immediately sprang to mind. It's called an ability to consider potential consequences – of course, you wouldn't be familiar with such a thing, seeing it requires this thing known as 'intelligence' and it's clear yours is taxed to its limit by walking and talking at the same time. In fact, no wonder cave-ins are of no concern to you – if your head should be crushed by a falling rock, nothing of value would be damaged.

What I should do, I told myself sternly, was to ignore the comment. Giving my tongue free reign had proved to not be in the best interests of diplomacy even when I did it among my clan-mates; it would be sheer disaster in this touchy situation. Alas, despite all these well-reasoned arguments against, I found my mouth opening all the same-

The whisper had been loud enough for Dumac to hear as well. "How strange, I must be imagining things. Because I could have sworn I heard Stungthand disparage our guest... but of course Stungthand would know better than that, wouldn't he? After all, I distinctly remember needing to forcibly drag him out of the tunnels the first time he left because he was terrified he would fall into the sky."

There was a humiliated silence from behind. I gave Dumac a slight nod of thanks. For a moment, I wasn't sure if he'd seen it, but then the bushy head dipped in response.

"On which note," Dumac said, "here we are. Welcome to Nchurdaleft, Nerevar." And he stepped forward and down.

I wasn't too proud to admit I gaped. The corridor opened into a gigantic natural cavern, lit by Dwemer lamps strung at regular intervals, never to mention the glowing blue mushrooms and vines. Despite the light streaming from these sources and glittering off crystals embedded in the cavern walls, the sheer vastness meant I couldn't make out the opposite wall, and only vaguely discern stone spikes hanging from its roof far, far above.

And, of course, there were the Dwemer, making their way busily between the stone-and-metal houses that rose from cavern floor or into the great tower that lay at its center, vanishing into other corridors that branched off from the side, standing in clusters around strange machines... the sight made me think of anthills that I'd seen in the wild, teeming hives of activity with each individual a mere speck in the mass.

There were, I suspected, more Dwemer in this cavern than I'd seen people in my entire life before.

"Do you mind moving, Chimer? Some of us would like to get out of this corridor too."

The annoyed voice from behind brought me back to myself. I closed my mouth, moved away from the doorway and did my best to pretend that I saw gigantic underground Dwemer cities every day. I suspected I wasn't particularly successful, but it was an act that kept me following Dumac down the stairs and along a winding path that went sometimes by, sometimes over, and sometimes through the buildings... never to mention more strange sights than I'd ever hoped to see. Dwemer children playing with some odd glowing eight-sided shape; a Dwemer woman chanting furiously at a pipe, then sitting back in satisfaction when it began to spit steam; several little metal spiders trundling along, each with a small box strapped to their backs...

Our progress was slow. Not only did quite a number of the people we passed want to gawk at the Chimer, but it turned out that Dumac was well-known in the city – something of a feat, I thought, considering the sheer number of inhabitants. It seemed as though every few feet we had to stop for Dumac to speak to someone. Usually, this took place in Dwemeris, but the smiles and (frequently) back-thumping made the relationships involved clear. I spent the interruptions doing my best to wait patiently. Patience was not a skill that came particularly easily to me, as any Indoril - certainly those who'd been present for the kagouti hunt in the last year of the Atronach - could have told you. However, the underground city offered enough in the way of distraction that the greater challenge proved to be trying not to stare at my surroundings too obviously.

We were about halfway to the large building in the center of the cavern when I failed.

Dumac was deep in conversation with a man whose face was heavily lined in wrinkles and beard was solid grey. No back-thumping was visible here; no, judging by the body language the two were being so exquisitely polite to each other that I suspected a lot of dislike lurking beneath the surface. It had also gone on longer than any of Dumac's interactions with one of the townspeople so far, and I was starting to get bored.

I looked around and saw another Dwemer, somewhat shorter and skinnier than average with the ubiquitous tall hat perched on his head at a jaunty angle, bent over a crystal about the size of my fist which was sitting on a raised pedestal. Occasionally, he'd reach over to prod the object, muttering profusely all the while. Nothing seemed to change when he did so, except the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and when I let myself fall into my magical senses I could feel the faintest flare of power from that direction.

That would be interesting in its own right, because despite the whirring gears, hissing pipes, glowing toys and wandering spiders, it was the first time I'd felt anything I'd term magical in this cavern. On top of that, the feel of the magicka was familiar, reminding me very much of some of the experiments I'd indulged in when I was younger and less disciplined.

The Dwemer's dark eyes flicked upwards. "Can I help you, Chimer?" The words were a surprise – they were spoken evenly, without the bite of hostility I'd expected, and in Chimeris to boot.

Then I realised I'd drifted closer without even realising, close enough the – craftsman? mage? - had stopped working to deal with the interruption. I took a step back and dipped into a quick bow of apology. The time I'd spent in alliance with Dumac and his people had driven home how culture-specific such gestures could be, so I added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No need to apologise." The man's eyes hadn't left mine. His Chimeris sounded close to fluent, praise Azura – I'd been reliably informed that my Nordic was poor and my Aldmeris an embarrassment, and of course I spoke no Dwemeris at all, so Chimeris was the only hope for us to have any sort of conversation. "It's a good opportunity, in fact. I've been branching out a little, and I know your people work more with-" some Dwemeris word suffering from a terrible affliction involving excessive consonant growth followed. "I'd be curious as to what a Chimer would make of this."

The face of our Wise Woman swam into my mind, stern and forbidding. I could almost hear her sharp tongue shaping the words lazing about again, feel her fingers gripping the point of my ear.

It's diplomacy, I told her silently, and turned to the offered crystal.

Up close, the familiarity was far more apparent. "It reminds me of some of the crystals you can find in Daedric ruins," I spoke aloud for the benefit of my audience. "I tried imbuing some of them with magicka when I was younger – had a silly idea that I could create a connection between them that could be used for teleportation – I didn't get anywhere with it, obviously, but the result felt quite a bit like what you have here."

The Dwemer blinked, clearly taken aback. "Teleportation?"

"Yes – instantaneous magical travel between fixed points. It would be very useful, I figured – imagine how much easier it would be to meet traders or reach the tribes'-moot, or what it might mean for the elderly and sick, if they could stay in a single location even when we had to move on with the herds. There was this resonance to the Daedric crystals that could be modified if you carefully infused them with magicka, I thought..."

I stopped, surprised by the enthusiasm in my own voice. Wasn't I past this?

"I didn't realise you were interested in magical research, Nerevar. That any of the Chimer were."

I turned. Dumac had finished his discussion with the elder and had come to over to eye both of us with an odd expression. I could feel heat rise in my face.

"Oh, I was young and prone to wild daydreams. I grew out of it eventually."

Dumac's expression changed to one of complete bafflement. This, sadly, was fairly familiar by now. "But... if it was a promising line of research, why wouldn't you continue it?"

My ear throbbed with phantom pain. I could almost see the Wise Woman's pinched expression. "You mean waste time playing with rocks that I should have spent supporting the tribe? Believe me, no one would have thanked me for that. I'd like to think I know better by now."

"Waste time?" Dumac repeated, sounding more bewildered than ever. "It's the most noble of pursuits, wouldn't it be seen as doing great honour to your family?"

We spent a moment staring at each other in complete mutual cultural incomprehension.

"Well." The voice belonged to the young Dwemer I'd interrupted. "If you have the time after, I for one would be quite glad if you spent time 'playing with rocks', as you put it, with me. I assure you I do not consider your ideas a waste of time. On the contrary, they sound as if they tie in quite nicely with my theories." He nodded at me, the gesture more respectful than I'd received from any Dwemer bar Dumac.

"I'm sure that could be arranged," Dumac answered for me, shooting me a sidelong glance. It was a look I'd become familiar with from strategy meetings and the heat of battle, one signalling trust me and do as I say.

"Yes... I'd like that," I said. I was still confused, but – absurd as the thought would have been a bare few years ago – I did trust Dumac. And perhaps some childish part of me was delighting in the thought that I might be able to continue my experiments in the name of diplomacy.

Although, of course, there were some more traditional components to diplomacy I shouldn't be forgoing.

"Ah- Nerevar, of clan Indoril," I added hastily. "Thank you for your hospitality."

The Dwemer's eyes glittered as he took my hand. "A pleasure. I am Kagrenac."



Notes: Baby Nerevar is a joy to write. Look at him being a diplomat... in his own very special unique way!

And I am also loving your (or Adryn's) visions of the young Nerevar. And a momentous meeting as well- are those kettle drums I hear? (Hope so- otherwise it might be a Mundus-quake!)

Your entire description of the populous and bustling Dwemer city is so vividly drawn, it was as if I could see it before my eyes. Wonderful!

I could appreciate Never's natural sense of claustrophobia at the thought of having a mountain over his head. Unlike the 'dwarves' I can imagine the oppressive feeling of being deep underground. It would be doubly daunting considering that young Never had never even seen a city on the surface, let alone one underground.

Now the Dwemer fear of vowels, that I will never understand...

I loved your depiction of the natural and unnatural features of the Dwemer city. Of course I naturally wondered where all their poop goes? Unless they have some really impressive sanitation, it must really smell down there...

I was guessing that mysterious Dwemer scholar/scientist/mystic might be ole' Kraggy himself. This episode was a wonderful peek into the past that shaped Morrowind, tinged with a feeling of regret, given what we know will eventually happen at Red Mountain.

Whew, I am finally caught up! I apologize for being delinquent in my reading and commenting on this wonderful story.

Jamie reminds me so much of my own Julian it is making me homesick for her game Oblivion. The same struggles she went through in her life is echoed here in Jamie. And I enjoyed Adryn's meeting the head of House Redoran again. I pretty much LOL'd my way through that episode!

In an earlier post, I chuckled at the rescue of the lost guar - that Redoran guard could well be me! I didn't expect to fall in love with them playing ESO, but I have, and am even planning a guar rescue! I believe I have as many guar mounts as I have horses . . .

While I never played Morrowind, I have the chapter in ESO (in fact, my three youngest toons started in Vfell), and I have had plenty of opportunity to thoroughly explore the ESO version. Not sure how it matches up to the original, but there are many elements of your story that I recognized from my ESO gameplay. I loved how you play up the cultural differences, and the risk of entering an ancestral tomb if you are not their descendant.

I always felt that Dwemer are Bosnian refugees . . .

@treydog - It seems I wasn't the only one hearing ominous drums in the background! Glad you like my Dwemer city - I opted not to use any of the existing ruins because they didn't quite match my vision.

@SubRosa - Yeah, I sympathise with young Nerevar here too - his life experience is fairly limited at this stage, and giant Dwemer underground cities are waaaaay outside his comfort zone in all sorts of ways.

And I am sure the sanitation is dealt with via mysterious Dwemer technomagery alternatively, you've stumbled on the real reason Kagrenac is interested in teleportation to other realms - improved waste management systems ahoy.

@haute ecole rider - no need to apologise, just glad to have you back! And I went eeeeeh that Jamie reminds you of Julian - Julian is one of my favourite characters (and I do tend to think of her as the patron saint of Chorrol Redguard warriors) so this is high praise! (Jamie thinks so, too - I think she wants to be Julian when she grows up, minus the Legion affiliation.)

And it's great to hear Vvardenfell rings true to you, guar-loving self-insert guards and all! I've actually been meaning to get back into ESO, I'm quite curious about the Vvardenfell expansion - this is all based on Morrowind so far but I'd love to bring in more of the ESO vision as well.

Last installment, young Nerevar experienced his first underground Dwemer city and made a new friend - a young Dwemer by the name of Kagrenac. The two bonded over magical theory regarding teleportation. This friendship is certainly not historically ominous at all.

Now, back to Adryn, who is endeavouring herself to get rid of the suspiciously familiar propylon index...



I found myself quite happy with my choice of guild to attach myself to the next day. The Caldera guild was, if anything, even smaller than the Balmora guild – small enough to be decidedly cramped. The guild guide platform was so close to the enchanter's desk you had to be careful not to step on any soul gems on disembarking, and the harrassed-looking instructor had only a few fenced-off square feet to work with, no practice chamber or target range in sight – I certainly hoped they didn't teach Destruction spells here. I couldn't see an alchemist either, showing they had some sense – potion fumes really do require their own space, preferably with excellent ventilation – but that was as far as it went. Even Mirel, a gray-haired, heavy-set man easily identifiable not just by his rich brocade robes but also by virtue of being the only Dunmer in the place, was working from a desk crammed into a corner.

At least it made him easy to find, I thought, and made my way over for introductions.

"Excuse me. I'm Adryn, from the Bal- the Ald'ruhn guild. I hear you may have been looking for items like this?"

Mirel's face lit up at the sight of the propylon index. I internally breathed a sigh of relief. If it heightened my standing in the guild, good – if it resulted in a monetary reward, excellent – but even with both those things aside it'd be good to get the thing off my hands. Falasmaryon hadn't been so pleasant a place to visit that I wanted to risk a repeat.

Alas, it turned out my relief was a little hasty, because matters went downhill from there.

It started when I tried explaining how I'd triggered the teleportation. Silly me, thinking a mer who wanted the thing for its teleportation capabilities would be interested in hearing about such a thing.

"Apprentice," was Mirel's frosty response, "I already told you I wanted the item. There is no need to lie in order to make it seem more appealing."

I spluttered. "Lie?" was the only word I managed.

"Yes, and an obvious one at that." Mirel shook his head in clear disappointment. I wasn't sure whether it was because he thought I was lying to a superior, or because he thought I was being obvious about it. "Although it is true these items hold the potential for teleportation – a fact I assume Edwinna informed you of – it is locked deep within them. Only a true master of the mystic arts could access it. Certainly not someone with your... challenges." He sniffed.

I could not possibly be hearing this correctly. "Excuse me?"

Dimly, I was aware that all other activity in the guild hall had ceased, all eyes fixed on Mirel and me. Mirel, of course, gave no sign of noticing.

"Your... 'syndrome', I believe they called it." He spoke the word as if it tasted foul. "I myself do not understand why someone incapable of a fundamental magical skill should be permitted to advance in the guild, but apparently Edwinna thinks you can be of use in the lesser schools. So be it. But I will not tolerate you attempting to edge in on my research via fantastical claims. Now, give me the propylon index and we will not speak of this again." He paused for a moment. "I suppose I might be able to reimburse you for finding it, if you apologise for your presumption."

There was a beat of silence. Mirel, hand outstretched for the propylon index, looked satisfied, almost serene. He had declared how the world was, and the world would now follow suit by rearranging itself to his liking. As for me, I was still caught in stunned disbelief.

Then it turned to fury.

"Actually," I told the newly-dubbed Blowfish, "I think I'll be keeping it." I bared my teeth. Only a very stupid person would have considered my expression a smile, so I gave Blowfish a fifty-fifty chance. "Since, you know, it belongs to me. I would have donated it to your research efforts, but as you have made so clear that I am not wanted, I'll just assume the same goes for my belongings. Who knows, I might do a little investigation of it myself."

Blowfish was going purple. "Apprentice-"

"Who knows," I talked over him, "maybe I'll figure the thing out before you do. The lowly apprentice with the syndrome. Wouldn't that be embarrassing for you?"

Blowfish didn't respond, apparently lost for words. His mouth was, however, opening and closing silently. It actually did make him look remarkably like a fish; I'd clearly chosen the nickname well.

I turned to see an entirely silent, motionless Mages' Guild, everyone staring at me.

"Hi there," I said to the guild guide. "Could you send me back to Ald'ruhn? For some reason, I don't much feel like staying in Caldera any longer."



My righteous rage begin to drain away the instant my feet hit the Ald'ruhn guild guide platform. By the time I'd unlocked my cupboard in the dorms in order to deposit the propylon index, the emotion was entirely gone, leaving me feeling mainly shocked and a little queasy.

Had I really said... to a superior in the guild... in front of an audience...

I let my forehead thunk against the wood of the cupboard with a groan. "I really, really hope I don't need to be on good terms with the Caldera guild."

"This sounds like a story."

Startled, I turned to see Jamie behind me. The sight was off-putting – I knew she was technically a guild member, but she seemed to be fully occupied with her Redoran duties at the moment. Besides, last I'd heard, she was supposed to be travelling to the Urshilaku. What was she doing here?

Travelling to the Urshilaku was out of the picture until the silt strider network was up and running again, Jamie explained. It was simply too far of a journey, through too dangerous lands, when one couldn't just take the strider to Khuul and then head along the coast. As for what she was doing here...

"House Redoran accommodation for 'itinerants' isn't exactly what I was hoping for," Jamie admitted. "Lots of young men out looking for glory who'll take alcohol as an acceptable substitute. No real privacy, either." Her lips twisted. "I'm still a guild member, I wanted to check the Ald'ruhn dorms."

Unfortunately, we – as I'd discovered last night – also had members who made for noisy neighbours. The members of Edwinna's Dwemer expeditions were often tough, adventurous sorts who spent most of their time in the wilderness and cut loose during their short time in Ald'ruhn. That said, at least we had curtains around the beds, and I'd heard good things about kwama wax ear-plugs.

(It was probably a sign of how bad the Redoran accommodation was that this explanation made Jamie noticeably brighten.)

"I'm also happy I stumbled across you – I've been meaning to catch you in order to pin down the details of the plan for gathering and selling ingredients we discussed. Maybe get started on it, while I'm waiting on the strider network." The eager expression on her face was, I suspected, the sign of someone who really needed to be earning money sooner rather than later. "Anyway, enough about me. What's this about the Caldera guild?"

"Just a moment." I rummaged for my coin-purse.

The Ald'ruhn guild alchemist had proved just as crotchety this time as on first meeting, so I'd paid another visit to Cienne under Skar to sell the ingredients I'd collected during my excursion to Maar Gan. Even having kept some vials back – for my own use and to gift to Ajira – it had amounted to a tidy sum. We hadn't discussed our deal being retroactive, but I wouldn't have been able to gather any on the way back from Maar Gan without Jamie's help, and I prided myself on being fair.

"Here. From what I gathered on the trip." Two more clues in favour of Jamie being in unpleasant financial straits: the way she didn't protest my offer, and the way I could see the stress fade from Jamie's frame as the three ten-drake coins passed into her hands. "As for Caldera..."

Jamie, it turned out, wasn't particularly worried about my behaviour at the Caldera guild. "Good on you for standing up for yourself. I hate it when people think their rank means they can be rude. Or bullies." She scowled, and I remembered the story of Jamie's short but eventful career in the Imperial Legion. Perhaps I really shouldn't be surprised that she approved of someone yelling at a superior behaving badly.

"I can't imagine Edwinna will hold it against you, anyway. She seems like a decent sort. Now... about the ingredients?"



Notes: This is deeply, deeply unfair of me, but I harbour something of a grudge against Folms Mirel. Rationally, I totally get why Bethesda introduced the Master Propylon Index patch because the indexes were absolutely not useable in their original state, but teenage me really liked the idea that my character was investigating these mysterious objects in their own right and was very annoyed to have that be replaced by another mage telling you "go there, kill that, bring this back to me, I'll do all the bits requiring actual intelligence". It's... possible Adrynverse was slightly affected by my bias.

Nit, just to get it out of the way first:



I wasn't sure if the index was gone, the cupboard was gone, or what was gone. However, I'm unsure how I'd rephrase that.

---

I was a little disappointed that Adryn wasn't able to demonstrate what the index does by sending Mirel to a chamber of her choice, but perhaps this outcome is for the best. Or not. It remains to be seen.

I have to vote with you on Folms Mirel. He has the ego to basically tell you to go steal various indices, yet still acts intellectually and morally superior. And I was also disappointed that the touted add-on was just an expansion of fast travel, instead of a chance to maybe learn new spells or do research or... anything beyond another round of "Fed-Ex" quests and the "magic" happens without the player being involved.

Good for Adryn telling him to stuff an alembic up his... calcinator. Or would that be a retort?

I was starting to like Mirel, right up until he opened his mouth to speak. How typical.

I hope Adryn at least spits in his overbearing hand, if not cuts it off.

I bet that guild guide could not get Adryn out of there fast enough!

The Redoran and Guild dorms sound a lot like college dorms!

@ghastley - thanks for the nit! It's now been made a bit clearer.

As for sending Mirel off... well, let's give Adryn some options for escalation.

@treydog - ha, I'm not the only one!

I think tbh it bugs me when in-game quests force you to take on the "stupid brute" role. I know it's hard to give the player real agency, but I like playing smart (+ educated) characters and it'd be nice if they made an attempt at providing for that instead of, as you say, forcing you to do the Fed Ex tasks and letting an NPC take card of the intellectual bits.

ANYWAY.

@SubRosa - yyeeaaah, Mirel is... a character. And I think the whole Caldera guild was happy once she'd left!

Some inspiration may have been taken from certain college living arrangements when it comes to the communal dorms, yes... >>

Last installment, Adryn stopped by Caldera in an effort to rid herself of one (1) propylon index. It did not go well. It, in fact, ended in her angrily telling the Caldera guild head that she'd do research on the thing herself, so there. Last we saw her, she was in Ald'ruhn licking her wounded pride...



Thus began an overall calm and relaxing part of my life.

After agreeing on how to portion the profits, Jamie and I went ingredient-gathering regularly whenever she wasn't off on Redoran business. In addition to the area around Ald'ruhn, we also explored near Vivec – the wilderness began surprisingly close to the city, and was a prime source of marshmerrow, cork bulb and muck sponge.

Even with me keeping back a portion of what we gathered, we were left with enough that it might actually have been too much for Cienne. Thankfully, a few days in I gained a surprising new customer – Methal, finally returned from Maar Gan, apparently part of the alchemy team at the Temple. Why he'd never mentioned it escaped me. At any rate, the man was bad enough at haggling that I took him up on his offer to buy ingredients gladly. Even the way he insisted on telling me about all that the Temple could do for me whenever we met didn't stop me, even if it did leave an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

The steady income eased both mine and Jamie's nerves, but I still dolefully counted up drakes and came far short of how much I might have made selling potions instead. Alas, my very basic mortar and pestle was not up to the task of turning what we gathered into professional-quality draughts, and I didn't have enough saved up yet to invest in equipment of high enough quality to be worthwhile.

Edwinna, it seemed, had no end of clerical and academic work for me to do, something that suited me better than her previous attempt at a task. It was also something I was desperately in need of, it seemed, because I was apparently not as good as academic writing as I'd believed. At least, I certainly had a tendency to forget certain basic facts on the one hand, embroider my reports on what I'd read with details that apparently came straight out of my imagination because they certainly weren't in the books on the other. Edwinna had to scold me on the matter more than once, to my embarrassment.

Perhaps I was out of practice, or perhaps the Dwemer simply captured my imagination more than alchemy ever had, leading me to flights of fancy. Whatever the reason, I had to concentrate very hard to make certain I was including neither more nor less than material with a solid academic foundation whenever I wrote about the Dwemer. For some reason, this frequently ended in blinding headaches on my part. Despite my initial intentions, I found myself returning to my independent study of propylon indexes more and more as a result.

Edwinna had also met my tale of the debacle in the Caldera guild with a shrug. "Perhaps you're the best person to look into these, really. After all, you're the one who managed to not only pick up on the magicka embedded in them when they certainly don't read as enchanted to me, but also activate them. I really don't understand why Folms rejected the idea of working with you on them, but he's always been a..." Edwinna very obviously cut herself off. "So how are you coming along with Azura and the Box?"

Which was how I found myself researching propylon indexes. Truth be told, at the beginning I'd still have rather dumped the thing next to the Dwemer puzzle cube from Arkngthand as a relic of an embarrassing time in my life I'd prefer not to think on, but after the scene in Caldera my pride was on the line. Jamie egged me on by virtue of turning up with another one of the things a mere week later.

"Some pawnbroker was selling it. In Caldera, actually. Shame Mirel never sets foot outside the guild, eh?" She gave me a wink.

This one, it turned out, was linked to Hlormaren, another Chimer stronghold half a day's walk from Balmora (although said walk did include a rather steep climb according to my map). A careful inspection of the crystal left me feeling relatively confident I could repeat my feat. Not that I had any intention of doing so; Falasmaryon had been bad enough.

Jamie let that state of affairs go on for another week before she turned up with a smile on her face. She'd had to take care of some business near Gnaar Mok, and since she was on the Bitter Coast anyway she thought she'd investigate Hlormaren. It hadn't hosted any horrifying monstrosities, had however been the headquarters of a group of slavers. "Had" being the key word in that sentence. The place was, she told me firmly, now entirely deserted.

With no real excuse, and with a trained warrior ready and willing to come along for the journey, I found myself standing on the roof of Ajira's building one crisp Frostfall morning, propylon index in one hand, Jamie firmly clutching the other. I had no intention of leaving her behind, and had a vague idea skin-to-skin contact might help with that.

I was also wearing my guarhide boots, freshly treated with a mix of kwama cuttle and shalk resin just the night before. Some mistakes you don't make twice.

For the first time since my impromptu trip to Falasmaryon, I inspected one of the propylon indexes with my magical senses while holding it. Crystal cool against my skin, it was so much easier to feel the hum, the connection leading off into the distance. However, it wasn't going to go off unprompted. Whoever had made it had taken more care than that, I could feel – hadn't wanted anyone who picked it up at risk of being flung through space to a stronghold. No, you had to prime it – feed it a little of your magicka. Like...

So.

Hlormaren's propylon chamber looked much the same as Falasmaryon's. It was only once we exited that the differences became apparent – trees laden with lichen surrounding the fortress, the glitter of sunlight on the sea to the west, and of course the stink of swamp.

Swamp we'd have to trek through on our way back to Balmora. Why had I agreed to this again?

"Well. I bet you Mirel hasn't managed this yet." A pause. "I wonder what ingredients there are to be found in the swamps?"

At least Jamie knew what to say to make me feel better.

The trek back to Balmora went surprisingly smoothly. It was, of course, rather soggy... at least on Jamie's part. On my own, I quickly remembered my water-walking spell, which made traversing the swamps significantly less wet than it might have been otherwise.

"You have got to teach me that spell," Jamie said after I freed a coda flower from the center of a murky pool, balancing on its surface all the while.

"Er... sure?"

I'd tried not to let my skepticism shine through, but I'd apparently been unsuccessful because Jamie scowled. "I'll let you know I'm not completely incompetent, you know! I may be unable to tell lichen from pond scum, but I'm very good at Restoration – I don't see why Alteration should be different."

"Sorry, sorry!" My attempts at teaching Jamie to recognise ingredients for herself had not had much effect, and it had left me a little dubious of my friend's magical abilities. Which was unfair of me – after all, I'd hate for someone to judge me solely on my abilities in the realm of Mysticism. "I-"

I found myself distracted from apologies by the water-walking spell wearing off. Thankfully, I was no longer in the center of the pool. Unfortunately, I was still on its edges, and the feeling of falling from what used to be a steady surface into swamp muck is really not one to be repeated.

"Nchow!"

To give Jamie full credit, she didn't laugh – in fact reached over to help me back onto dry land. "I don't think I recognise that one. Dunmeris lessons going well, then?"

"Well enough."

My experience in Maar Gan had made me look into seriously trying to learn the language. It turned out that several priests from Balmora Temple, led by one Llarara Omayn who'd turned out to be a friend of Ervesa's, held lessons thrice a week in the downstairs classroom of the Ald'ruhn guild. I'd jumped on the opportunity, although I had to admit...

"Mind you, that one we weren't taught in class."

No, for my newly-gained more colourful vocabulary I could thank Tanar Llervi, our guild smith-enchanter, and her stream of invective when her forge wasn't running hot enough, her soul gem supplier was running late, her lunch was cold, or (I was starting to suspect) the sky was blue in a way that displeased her.

"What's the point of learning a language if they don't teach you how to curse properly?" Jamie sounded insulted on my behalf. "I've been thinking of joining those classes, but I might have to think again."

"I'd join anyway." Carefully, I wiggled my toes, then stepped forward. Although the outside of my boot was coated in mud, my foot only felt as damp as sweat would warrant and there was no squelching sound to be heard. Thank the Nine for the treatment I'd decided to administer yesterday– it seemed to have kept the water off well enough. "You just have to keep Tanar company for an hour and you'll know all the curses you could ever need," I continued as I gave my other foot the same treatment. "And it's turning out quite handy."

Even just offering Dunmeris greetings had resulted in a definite thaw in many of the native Dunmer I ran into. The effect was dramatic enough I'd started making a concentrated effort at the language, setting aside at least an hour every day to practice what I'd learned so far and look up vocabulary we hadn't covered yet but which I figured might be useful. (Llarara hadn't taught us a single plant yet! I had no idea where her priorities were.)

"I'll keep that in mind," Jamie said as she watched my efforts. "A lot of Redoran really isn't too keen on outlanders, it can only help. Ready to go?"

Again, Jamie comes through as a true friend.



And Adryn is still Adryn---



And I like the subtle way you show us that Adryn knows much more about the Dwemer than the books say- but she cannot prove any of that knowledge.

If the smith runs out of useful phrases, Athlain recommends the stable-hands- they have a ... colorful vocabulary, as well. I guess when one's work involves the... material theirs does, you develop language appropriate to the task.

Marshmellows and muck sponge, sounds yummy!

Sounds like Adryn prefers to write fiction over reports!

The best words are never taught in class. Unless it is a class on the Urban Dictionary.

It sounds like Adryn has settled into life, sort of at least. But I suspect that the simple existence of an ingredient-gatherer, hopeful alchemist, and Guild gopher is not something she will be truly satisfied with. I think she has too much of a romantic streak in her. The Dunmer are calling, as are the proplyons.

- of course I had to look up what an alchemist gets from that. Apparently you wouldn't want to drink the stuff, but the water walking/breathing aspects of the kwama cuttle should be good for boots, if it makes them repel water that way.

My recollection of using water walking was that you got quite a bit of warning as it faded. I assume Adryn had expected it to last a bit longer, or a re-cast would have been in order. Will they be foraging for Ampoule Pod now?

I absolutely loved young Nerevar’s trip to the Dwemer city. Even in the ruins in ESO there is the sense of awe when you get to where you can see over the city, and you captured it. Tremendous!

I’ve enjoyed catching up with Adryn’s adventures. The Adryn and Jamie parts are my favorite. I love their friendship.

Jaime is growing on me! I really enjoy her company as much as Adryn does, if not more . . .

Enjoyed the meditations on learning a second (third, fourth, whatever) language - the best parts are learning to cuss in new ways . . .

As Julian would say, Cacat!

@everyone - apologies for the absence! I was so busy one weekend that I forgot to update, and then the weekend after I was in the Alps with no internet connection.

@treydog - I'm very happy to hear that my hinting that there is something really really off about Adryn's knowledge of the Dwemer right now came through! I'm of course limited in how direct I can be by the fact that my POV character has no clue what's going on, but I was hoping people would pick up on this bit.

Finding stable-hands may be a bit of a trial in Vvardenfell, but I suspect I can always point Adryn at some guar-herders if push comes to shove

@SubRosa - yep... I think you're entirely right that this life wouldn't be enough for her, but Adryn isn't exactly the best at self-reflection so it may take a while for her to work that one out. I guess we'll have to see how it goes

@ghastley - I admit in this particular case I went more with "what ingredients sound like they could offer a plausible treatment for leather", although ofc kwama cuttle's water-walking effect should also add some nice magical water-proofing. Re: water-walking - yeah, you can see the spell wearing off, but at the same time I'm fairly sure I once also managed to miss it entirely and I'm not nearly as distractible as Adryn! (I like to think...)

@Grits - am glad you like the Adryn and Jamie show! Jamie was always meant to be a recurring character, but I had some trouble working her in at the start. Now they're both in a place where they have reason to interact a lot, and I like playing them off each other - they have a nice dynamic, especially because Jamie is emotionally intelligent/insightful in some ways Adryn is really lacking and can use that to keep herself from getting entirely steamrollered (as opposed to, say, Varvur).

@haute ecole rider - true story, Adryn learning Dunmeris was the plan from the start but coincidentally I'm currently trying to learn Spanish and am using some of my experiences as fodder there. Even though I'm still fairly empty as far as curse words go - something for my to-do list... And I'm glad you like Jamie! As mentioned to Grits, I'm glad I have reason to have her around more because I very much like her dynamic with Adryn.

And now for the update...

Last installment, we saw Adryn settle into her life, including ingredient-gathering expeditions with Jamie in the swamps around Balmora. Last we saw her, she was testing out new colourful Dunmeris vocabulary after her water-walking spell hat worn off unexpectedly.



After that, I took much more care when it came to recasting my water-walking spell before it ran out, and the rest of the journey back to Balmora went smoothly. It rather surprised me – at this point I was used to any journeys in the wilderness getting quickly derailed by naked Nords, ash storms, random strangers in need of rescue, and similar such horrors. As a result, it came as something of a shock to climb to the top of a steep hill and see Balmora spread beneath us in the evening twilight with nothing more than my tumble having occurred on the trip.

"Same time Mondas?" Jamie suggested.

I couldn't find a reason to argue, especially once I offloaded my haul. I'd vaguely remembered from my early days on the island that coda flowers were valuable, and was more than happy to see this proven true. Sadly, this was less true for many of the other ingredients I'd gathered – the mushrooms, in particular. Probably not much of a surprise, since I remembered from my experiments with Ajira in my first days on the island that they didn't exactly offer much in the way of useful effects. Cienne actually didn't want to buy them at all for that reason; Methal was thankfully willing, but even with me haggling my very best the coin still didn't amount to much. I left the place once again brainstorming how I might get my hands on a decent-quality alchemy setup for personal use.

"And space to use it," Ajira added the next morning.

"How so?" I inquired as I slathered scrib jelly over my roll. My voice echoed a little in the empty dining hall.

After my initial escape to the Ald'ruhn guild, I figured it wouldn't be particularly prudent to head straight back to Balmora for the breakfasts. I'd resigned myself to missing out, only to find Ajira on the guild guide platform the next morning, bearing not just a bag filled with fresh spiced rolls and various toppings but also balancing a pot of Dulnea's tea. I had no idea what she'd done to talk the woman out of it... nor what I'd done to deserve such a good friend. I knew Ajira enjoyed the group breakfasts, and although Erranil joined us sometimes most days it was just the two of us.

"An alchemy lab takes room, yes? And it has special requirements. You must be able to heat the calcinator, must have a vent for fumes... even if friend Adryn chances across a grandmaster's equipment, she cannot simply set it up in the guild dining hall, can she?"

I brought my palm to my forehead. I should have thought of that.

"M'vith yah!" I swore.

I was coming to like the Dunmeris curses – for some reason, they rolled off the tongue a lot more easily than the Tamrielic ones ever had. I really needed to thank Tanar one of these days...

"Your pronunciation is excellent," Ajira observed.

"Thanks!" Ajira would know, I supposed. She'd proclaimed herself surprised I didn't speak the language already when she'd first stumbled on me bent over a sheaf of vocabulary – it turned out she was in fact completely fluent in it. Probably not a surprise, since she was from Vvardenfell.

"Particularly the th, Ajira thinks. Many speakers of Tamrielic she knows have trouble with it, great trouble – but friend Adryn sounds almost like a native."

I blinked in surprise. "Well, it's the same sound as in Ta'agra, isn't it? Like in rawlith, or thjizzrini."

Ajira's ears, relaxed against her head, stood straight up. "Friend Adryn speaks Ta'agra?" The astonishment couldn't be clearer if she'd taken out a headline in the Courier.

"Er, yes." I suddenly realised that our discussions about comparative linguistics had skipped over part of my own language skills. I'd told Ajira I'd never tried to learn a foreign language before, but not... "I've always known it. I honestly don't remember how or where I learned." Even as the words left my mouth, I could feel how odd they were.

It was one of the bigger mysteries of my existence: how a Dunmer child left in a village in Daggerfall came to speak Ta'agra. I knew it had been the subject of a number of hushed discussions. Do'kharza, who'd said I had a picture-perfect Reaper's March accent, was particularly interested and liked to suggest travelling to Anequina to see if we could find some trace of my history. "When everything is over," he'd say, and I'd happily imagine some past for myself filled with adventure and mystery and possibly Baandari.

By the time everything was in fact over, I'd lost both my protectors and my taste for looking back. This was the most I'd thought about my language skills in years.

"Ajira is grieved to admit she is jealous."

"Oh? Do you not speak Ta'agra, then?"

Most of the Khajiit I'd met in Skyrim had – handy for being able to keep in practice with it after Do'kharza was gone, never to mention lose my child's vocabulary and phrasing. Even if I was still at something of a loss for curse words, unlike in Dunmeris. Personally, I thought Dar'munaq had taken perverse pleasure in keeping his language squeaky-clean around me.

Ajira's mouth pulled into a grimace. "She wishes. But no. You must understand Ajira's family, you see."

"Oh?" I poured myself a cup of tea, then leaned back. This sounded like a story.

"It begins with Ajira's grandfather's grandmother. Ajadhi, was her name, from Quin'rawl. A beautiful land, of wild jungles and ancient temples, blue seas and sandy shores. Unfortunately for Ajadhi, also a dangerous land, with hoarvors and wamasu... and, some moons, slavers."

My heart sank. I could tell where this story was going and I didn't like it. "She was captured?"

Ajira nodded gravely. "Captured and taken to Morrowind, never to see her jungles again. Her daughter Nisaari was born in the slave-camps of a Dres plantation, sold to Hlaalu when she was still a kit. And do you know what slave-owners hate? They hate their slaves speaking a language they do not know. A lullaby to a crying child could be fomenting rebellion, after all. And so Nisaari spoke only little Ta'agra, and her children none at all."

I bowed my head at the weight of pain in that story. A language might seem a small thing in comparison to all else that had been lost... but in the last month I'd learned myself how hurtful it could be to be unable to speak your ancestral tongue.

"And so Ajira does not speak Ta'agra, just as her friend does not speak Dunmeris," Ajira said, echoing my thoughts. "But at least Adryn is learning, yes?"

"Are there no classes for Ta'agra? Nobody willing to teach? Surely some of the free Khajiit in Morrowind can speak it."

Ajira waggled her hand in a side-to-side motion. "There are fewer not from Ajira's background than you might think. And when it comes to the Khajiit from Elsweyr, there are... differences of opinion regarding certain matters. It makes some relations fraught." Leaving that impressively vague statement behind, she continued. "Ajira has not heard of classes."

The words I'm sorry were on the tip of my tongue. A helpless statement, that, one that spread its hands and said it is an awful thing you tell me, but there is nothing I can do about it. All I can do is express my sympathy and move the conversation to happier matters...

The words were on the tip of my tongue but stayed there, arrested by a niggling impulse. It was the same impulse that had led to any number of unpleasant happenings over the last few weeks, involving kagouti, naked Nords, murderous Velothi, and of course we couldn't possibly forget Varvur. Alas, even knowing the likely consequences didn't stop it from growing stronger and stronger, replacing the words I'd been planning to speak with ones quite different.

I sighed in defeat and promised myself that Athyn Sarethi would not hear of this.



And that was how I found myself giving Ta'agra classes.

They weren't originally intended to be classes. I was rather dubious of my ability as a teacher, never to mention shy in front of large groups. No, I agreed to try teaching Ajira some of what I knew and figured that would be the end of it. However, lingering near the guild guide platform the next morning I was surprised to find two passengers coming from Balmora instead of the expected one. Jobasha came out of the teleport with a stately nod, teapot in one hand and a notebook in the other. Given his proximity to people that would be able to call certain events I was doing my best to avoid down on my head, never to mention a certain favour I'd been hoping to ask of him, I decided acquiescing to the unexpected extra student was the best part of diplomacy. And since I'd agreed to one extra already, I felt I couldn't turn down Ri'Shajirr and Baissa who showed up the next day. And only a monster would be able to refuse little Ma'Vija...

To make a long story short, one thing led to another, and by the end of the week breakfast was getting unwieldy enough that I found myself asking Edwinna how one went about reserving a classroom.

Edwinna's initial reaction was surprisingly wary – I suspected a story involving illicit use of guild rooms hiding behind her skeptical look, one I'd quite like to hear – but her skepticism turned into delight when told of the purpose. "It's an excellent idea," she said. "The Dunmeris lessons have been very popular, and Vala's course in basic literacy is one of the mainstays of the guild. I've been wanting to arrange more classes for the public – it's just difficult to find anyone with the necessary expertise who's also willing to teach. Would you mind if we advertised them?"

I paused. It was a fair suggestion, even if I thought word of mouth was already doing all the advertising they needed. All the same, I had some very good reasons to want to avoid drawing attention.

Considering the events of my first weeks on the island, this might admittedly look rather like barring the gates with the frost troll already inside. However, if I'd managed to avoid drawing Guild attention up until now, I'd really like that to continue.

Edwinna apparently noticed my hesitation. She added, "Of course, as the Mages' Guild would be profiting from your activities, we would be willing to pay you for your time."

Images swam before my eyes... alembics, calcinators, bubbling potions in a small but well-appointed alchemy lab. One of those cloaks Bivale Teneran's shop under Skar was selling now that the days were growing cold, beyond my means thus far thanks to the hood lined with imported snow fox fur from Solstheim. A filled bookshelf. Enchanted earplugs.

"Done," I said instantly. Then my sense of self-preservation caught up with me. "...can we at least keep my name off the adverts?"

"I suppose so," Edwinna said, shooting me an odd look. Apparently it wasn't a request she'd expected me to make.

"I like my privacy," I tried to justify myself without using the words fugitive, Thieves' Guild, dragged back to Skyrim, or anything else that may have described the true state of affairs but still constituted things my guildmistress Did Not Need To Know. "Besides, it's probably better if we don't shout the fact that a Dunmer is teaching the class from the rooftops."

As I said the last, I realised it was a valid argument in and of itself. I hadn't missed the looks some of my new students had sent my way. Given how they'd come to lose Ta'agra in the first place, it was hardly a wonder if my presence as a teacher grated... but that still didn't mean I cared to make myself a target for any young angry Khajiit.

"Well, if you say so." Judging by her nonplussed expression, Edwinna, like the good absent-minded scholar she was, had missed the undercurrents entirely. "It shouldn't be a problem to keep your name out of it, anyway. Now, what time slot were you thinking?"

Those pesky naked Nords do tend to derail things don't they!

Learning those swear words is the most important part of picking up a new language. I can swear in several languages, none of which I can otherwise say a single sentence in of course.

So Adryn is going to make mad monies teaching Cat-Speak! That is an interesting turn, but one entirely obvious once you saw the snowball effect starting to take shape.

I can see Adryn's point about keeping her name off the announcement. But will there be expectations of "Ta'agra for Dunmeris speakers" that she'll have problems fulfilling? Better get it promoted as "Ta'agra for Tamrielic speakers" up-front.

There also ought to be some free lessons in something for her from this. Just don't let her end up not getting paid!

This latest part was a perfect sampling of the humor and the poignancy that is Adryn's life on Vvardenfell. And once again, her innate goodness- which she of course, DOES NOT possess, shines through, as she agrees to give the precious gift of language back to those from whom it was taken.



Good luck with that- I think he knows if a lizard runs across a rock anywhere in Ald'ruhn.



And of course, one has to be delighted by the things Adryn's heart most desires.

One of my favorite things is the slow, disjointed (because that is how it is happening to her) revelation of Adryn's past.

Insert the usual apologies for vanishing just before the end of the chapter here. I meant to be back earlier, but life has been a tad ridiculous for the past six months. The good news is that it's getting back to normal and my new job is looking a lot better than my old one was at the end! The other good news is that I finally managed to finish the section I was stuck on in the upcoming chapter, so I have the sort of buffer build up that means I'm happy to start posting again.

@treydog - thanks for commenting, glad you like it! And especially glad you like the parcelling out of Adryn's past, as this is very much a purposeful Thing. You also might like this installment, in that case...

@ghastley - that is actually a... really good point. Like, I think the fact that it's run through the Mages' Guild will make the language obvious, but OTOH most of the enslaved or slave-descended Khajiit speak (a dialect of) Dunmeris as their native language and a few of them might actually not know that much Tamrielic. I might need to do something with this.

In general, I try not to go back and edit earlier sections because I'm going to have a hard enough time finishing this already, but something I wish I'd done more of is work with the languages - the idea of Dunmeris vs Tamrielic and how it works in Adrynverse is something that crept up on me as I was writing and it should really have a greater presence in some of the earlier chapters than it does. Oh well!

@SubRosa - The subtitle for this fic: one brave alchemist vs the naked Nords of Morrowind! And the Ta'agra thing is something I've wanted to introduce for a while, but I hadn't quite had the right opportunity. (Although another edit I might make is to go back and drop in a reference or two to it in earlier chapters, so it's less out of nowhere.)

Last installment, Adryn's peaceful life at the guild took a strange turn when she was coerced... OK, let's be honest, coerced herself... into volunteering her skills as a language teacher. Everyone is a little puzzled about how exactly Adryn comes to speak Ta'agra, Adryn herself included, but she's not inclined to think overly much on her past - especially when there is money to be made.

Let's see how that's going.



One of the advantages of my new role as Ta'agra tutor to what was beginning to seem like half the free Khajiit in western Vvardenfell was that it gave me the opportunity to interact more with Jobasha. After a few awkward starts, we'd mutually decided to forget about any initial meetings involving blackmail, Jobasha's contacts in the Thieves' Guild, him getting me arrested for murder, and other such trifles. This was fine by me, as it allowed us to form an acquaintanceship on a much more solid foundation: namely, books. Jobasha claimed his to be the finest bookstore in Vvardenfell. That title was no exaggeration, because his ability to procure rare volumes was unparalleled. I was beginning to think that if he decided the Oghma Infinium would look good on his shelves, it would be there within weeks.

Today, he stayed near the doorway as the rest of my class filed out and I poured myself some water from a flask, throat dry from near an hour of speaking. In any other person, I'd have called what he was doing dawdling, but Jobasha was far too dignified for any such activity.

"Jobasha has some of the items you were asking about," he said once the rest of the group had left. "Here."

A thick book was pressed into my hands. It was bound in brown hide inscribed with sinuous curling patterns that spread in three lines across its front, another along the spine.

"It is quite difficult to find books written in Ta'agra these days," Jobasha told me. "Alas, Jobasha could not find one accompanied by Tamrielic. He hopes this will do – it is called Hazura di Ahnissi-ro Shir'fado, his sources tell him." He pronounced the words very carefully.

"Thanks, Jobasha. I'm sure it'll be fine," I said with more confidence than I felt.

Unfortunately for the breadth of my classes, although I knew how to speak Ta'agra perfectly well, I'd never learned to read it. It was a lack I felt quite sorely when I was standing at the front of a slate-board with a piece of chalk in my hand, with Baissa's eyes boring into me silently communicating her disbelief that a Dunmer claimed to be a suitable teacher for the language of her people. I'd known vaguely that Ta'agra didn't use either the Tamrielic or the Daedric alphabets, but figured that with both of them under my belt, my codebreaking skills, and the fact that I was fluent in the spoken language, I'd be able to figure it out easily enough given an example.

Studying the book now, I felt this had been something of a rash claim. The winding patterns looked very pretty. Decorative, in fact. The thing they did not look like was anything I could recognise as writing. I'd been expecting something more familiar – I couldn't even make out distinct letters.

"And here," Jobasha interrupted my worrying. "Jobasha apologises for the wait – his contacts said it was not easy to find. They also said they could not lay hands on an imbued one at all, which Jobasha also apologises for."

This second book was bound in leather much darker than Hazura's undyed hide, and it bore only a single sigil, a stylised eye embossed in a gleaming green metal my trained eye identified as orichalcum. The symbol of the Illusion school.

"Thank you so much," I told Jobasha as I took the tome. I wasn't surprised it had taken some time to find. Books like this, which described a specific spell well enough a reader with a basic foundation in magic could use them to learn it, were very uncommon in Morrowind at the best of times. Imbued books, which bound the knowledge magically so that the reader could pick them up near-instantly, were entirely unknown. I wasn't sure why – I'd always found both sorts very handy myself – but apparently people around here preferred to learn directly from a teacher.

This spell, of course, was one I'd rather not ask one of my guild-mates for. Although after my experiences on the island so far I thought I had genuine need of it, I figured it would still raise some rather unpleasant questions. Jobasha, of course, had all the discretion of a professional, never to mention that he already knew more than enough to destroy me should he ever desire to.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked Jobasha as I slipped both books into my bag.

"Hmm..." His whiskers twitched. "Jobasha feels he cannot, in good conscience, ask money for the Ta'agra book, as he expects to profit from it himself. For the other... one septim."

I didn't haggle, although I had to admit it hurt me to pass over a gleaming septim coin with no argument. But it wasn't as if he'd already had the book on the shelves. It had been a special request and he'd clearly gone to some effort to find it. Haggling would be disrespectful.

Jobasha gave me a steady nod as he took the coin. "I hope it treats you well."

Later that evening found me in the library, studying my new acquisition. Privacy, sadly, was rather hard to come by as an apprentice staying in the guild, especially on days when one of Edwinna's Dwemer excavation troops was in Ald'ruhn to give her their artifacts, deliver their reports, and (to my eternal regret) go celebrate their return to civilisation with lots and lots of drinking. Still, hardly anyone used the library this time of day, and there was a small table and chair tucked away behind the Theoretical Philosophy section which was invisible from the more frequently used areas. I'd used it before and it worked well enough.

And speaking of things being invisible...

I frowned down at the tome which was open in front of me. The description of the spell wasn't easy to follow, but my ability at minor illusions was serving as a better foundation than I'd expected and I thought I was ready for my first attempt.

Invisibility, I'd decided while crouching behind boxes in Arkngthand, would be an incredibly handy spell to know.

"Like an illusion, but build the magic up far more before you let it go," I muttered to myself as I got to my feet and moved into a casting position. "Then make sure it covers you completely, not a gap left..."

I concentrated. After a moment, green light flared-

The Breton woman was short, shorter than me, wearing a plain dress and apron with her dark hair piled in a complicated knot on top of her head. I wasn't the best with faces, but I felt reasonably sure I'd never seen her before. Those icy blue eyes would have stuck in my memory, I was certain.

"Can I help you?" I asked, making sure my body blocked the doorway. If I didn't know her, she had no business in the back rooms of the Skeever's Nest... nor, of course, in what they connected to.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Her voice was light and high-pitched, with a distinctive Daggerfall accent. Unfair as it was, it immediately grated on me. I didn't like being reminded of Daggerfall, and had gone to some effort to rid myself of my own accent years ago. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but the sign outside said you were looking for barmaids?"

I relaxed. Just a prospective employee for the public front, it seemed. Recent events had made me paranoid. "Of course. You'll want to speak to Hrednolf – stay here, I'll get him for you."

I turned to head back into the corridors. This time of day, Hrednolf should be in his office. He'd better be, I thought grumpily, because I didn't have time to chase him down. I was supposed to be meeting Charon and Ingerte right now, except that one of the junior members had grabbed me on the way gabbling about someone being at the door asking to speak to someone in charge. I'd have words for her, later – it should have been obvious that what had been meant was in charge of the inn, not-

A whisper of cloth from behind me.

"Oh, and by the way, Adryn?"

She knew my name.

I whirled, but too late, far too late, because the spell was already in flight.

Green light enveloped me. I tried to scream – the inn was packed, a single shout and my guildmates would come running – but to no avail. The spell was already threading its way through my limbs, around my throat, and my body refused to obey me.

The last thing I heard before the magicka reached my heart was, "It isn't wise to stand against the Thief-King."

The spell fizzled and died in my hands. My heart was beating as though it was trying to escape my chest, my hands were shaking, and I really, truly wanted to be sick.

Forcing down the bile took some work, but I refused, I absolutely refused to vomit in the library. I was in charge of my body and I said it was not going to throw up.

Exactly the way I hadn't been in charge of it when-

Blood on my hands-

"Stop it," I whispered. "Stop. It's over, it happened, there's no point in thinking about it-"

The second night bell had rung before I was calm enough to attempt the Invisibility spell again. A futile effort, it turned out. Even though I didn't have another flashback, the green light flaring around me immediately sent me jerking backwards, the structure of the spell lost in panic. I tried closing my eyes, but it didn't help. Apparently it was enough that I knew it was an Illusion spell I was casting. And the feathery feeling of the invisibility magic as it enveloped my body felt exactly the same as being hit by the spell, before it had-

Before I had-

I bit savagely on my lip and tried the spell again. This time, it fell apart almost immediately, not even reaching the point of producing light.

Eventually, I let myself drop to the floor beside the desk I'd been using. My hands were trembling faintly as I wiped at the cold sweat that beaded my forehead.

"Curse it," I whispered. "Curse it."

A hysterical giggle rose in my throat as I considered telling Edwinna that there were, in fact, not one but two schools of magic I was unable to wield effectively. My minor illusions didn't qualify – they were barely cantrips. One of the ways one could tell this was because they, unlike proper spells of the school, didn't come with the classic green light that characterised the Illusion school.

The green light that apparently now gave me actual panic attacks.

"Molag Bal take it-"

After a long moment, I pulled myself back to my feet, trying to squash down my turmoil as I did so.

So I wouldn't be able to learn the Invisibility spell after all. Well, it had been a long shot in the first place, since I didn't have much experience with the school and the spell would probably have been too advanced for me anyway. I'd just have to rely on other methods. Potions sprang to mind – there had to be a recipe that didn't involve ground diamond.

And as for my suspicion that my inability affected all major spells of the school? No matter, surely. True, Chameleon would also have been nice to know, but it wasn't as if I'd been planning on learning any of the others. I wouldn't inflict a Command spell on anyone if my life depended on it. That extended to all the other mind-altering spells as well. Charm, Calm, Frenzy, Rally... whatever the effect, I wasn't going to take away someone's free will like that.

After all, I knew what it was like.

It isn't wise to stand against the Thief-King.

I fought down a shudder.

At any rate, what was left? Night-Eye? I had good night vision, and there were always potions. And I wasn't an adventurer, was planning to stay well out of any situations that might require combat spells like Blind or Silence. No – I could do without the Illusion school.

Decided, I gathered up my belongings. The Invisibility tome went on top of the stack, to be returned to my cupboard and begin gathering dust. Maybe I'd ask Ajira or Jamie if they had any use for the thing. It'd be a shame for Jobasha's efforts to go to waste, after all. I suspected Jamie didn't have the skill required for the spell – a natural mage, she was definitely not – but if she managed it, surely it would come in useful. Or perhaps Ervesa...

Head full of plans, I left the library, doing my best to leave my past behind as I went.



Notes: All credit to the Ta'agra project for the Ta'agra book title.

There is no sense holding on to trifles like murder accusations.

Spell Tomes! yay!

That was a disturbing flashback to Daggerfall. Adryn has some serious PTSD.

So red-light invisibility would work? Someone cast color-blindness on her, quick!

Intriguing flashback, to what? And where?, when? ...? The Skeever made its appearance in TES V: Skyrim, so this isn't an in-game reference except possibly as a geographical clue. I'll have to wait for more.