"You're going to do it, then?"
Erandur nodded. "My mind is made up."
Taking a deep breath, Maramal blew it out of his nose. He said nothing. Erandur knew he was concerned. It was understandable. Had their roles been reversed, he would've been the same way.
His desire to visit the Temple of Mara was an old one. A very old one. In his many imaginings, the place had always been a refuge from his guilt. A place of peace. Where his nightmares had no sway. Now, as he sat in one of the pews before the Lady of Love herself, he felt… calm.
It was odd. In a city like Riften, where scum ruled the streets, how could there exist a place of such remarkable spirit? The temple was like a sole lotus in a eutrophicated pond. After months of corresponding with the priest, whom he now considered a friend, Erandur had finally gathered up the courage to pay a visit.
Maramal had done good work. He led a hard life, and was respected, if not loved, by the citizens. Dinya, his wife, was a dunmer. To find one of his people in Skyrim was always a pleasure, but to meet someone in service to Mara was even better. The month he'd spent at the temple, working with them, had been the best time he'd had in a long while.
But now, it was time to take care of work elsewhere.
"I like to have a quiet moment at the end of the day," Maramal said suddenly, jerking his chin towards the shrine. "Just me and her."
Chuckling, Erandur gazed at her as well. "Maybe you could put a word in for me, then."
"I don't have to." There was a smile in his voice. "She cares about us. All of us. She listens, she knows, she understands. There is only acceptance here. She took you into her bosom knowing everything, and now," he turned towards him, "she sends you to correct sins past. You have her blessing, Erandur. You've always had it."
Erandur nodded. "I've always felt a great deal of guilt running from Nightcaller Temple and leaving my friends to die. I'll never forgive myself for that." He paused to sigh. "But maybe she can."
"Many people ask for it. I listen to them every day." Maramal shook his head slightly. "But you're actively working towards earning it, my friend. The Divines help those who help themselves. Take a step-"
"-and the universe will meet you halfway." Erandur smiled and rose to his feet. "Here's to hoping. I daresay I'll need it."
"Leaving?"
"Yes." Erandur stepped out of the pew and shouldered his knapsack. Then he picked up his staff and held his hand out to Maramal. "Best not to waste time when a decision has been made."
The redguard shook his hand firmly. "Then go with the favour of Mara. You know better than anyone how Vaermina works, but still. Be careful."
"I will."
"And come back once you're done. We'll always have a place for you."
Erandur chuckled. Grateful as he was for the offer, he wasn't sure it'd come to fruition. Vaermina was a potent Daedric prince. To challenge her alone was folly. Unlikely to end well. But some things had to be done despite the danger. Despite the cost.
"Where's Dinya?" he asked and looked around, changing the subject. "I wanted to say goodbye to her before going."
"The khajiit caravans have arrived, so she went to buy incense. They've been delayed for weeks and we've run short." Maramal sighed again. "I keep telling her to not exert herself, especially in her condition, but she never listens."
The dunmer priestess had once been an adventurer. Though she'd settled down, her spirit remained unchained. Erandur hid his amusement as best he could and said, "If Irun into her, I'll make sure she comes straight back."
"I'd appreciate that."
"You worry too much. Let her have these simple freedoms. In a few months, she'll be too encumbered to move properly."
"I know. I know." Another sigh from the redguard. "I just worry."
"It's in your nature and we love you for it." With a nod and a smile, Erandur turned to leave. "Thank you for your hospitality, Maramal. You'll be in my prayers."
"And you'll be in ours. May Lady Mara watch over you."
"May She watch over us all."
Ahkari, with hands on her hips, said, "Seventy."
"Forty," the priestess replied, arms crossed over her chest.
"Sixty-five."
"Forty."
"Sixty."
"Forty."
"Fifty-five."
"Forty-five."
Ahkari held out her hand. "Fifty."
The priestess took it. "Fifty."
"By the whiskers of Alkosh," Dro'Marash said amusedly. "This is like watching a duel."
Kharjo snorted. "She likes handling the business. Let her have fun."
"Negotiating is still not her strong suit." The older khajiit watched as the women shook hands. "Then again, the priestess is a return customer. And we have kept her waiting."
"Uh-huh. But the lesser we make, the smaller our cuts," Khrajo replied and returned to packing up his tent. "I'm all out of cash."
"If you hadn't bought that axe, maybe you wouldn't be broke."
Kharjo looked lovingly at his new, two-handed axe and smiled widely. "I am khajiit, dro. I like shiny things."
"No, ma." Dro'Marash playfully smacked him behind the head. "You just have no impulse control."
"And you are just jealous."
"That I am. It's a good axe. Shame it left you broke, though."
Kharjo didn't reply. It was a good buy, and everyone knew it. He loved his newest acquisition. Buying something with hard-earned gold was a feeling like no other. Dro'Marash himself had recently bought a new suit of plate. A whole suit! Armour was expensive! What was an axe in comparison?
Of course, a thousand Septims wasn't cheap. But the axe more than made up for it. It was exquisitely made by an orcish smith using nord steel. The best of both worlds. And it was enchanted, to boot! It didn't even need recharging. The runic battle axe was a monster, or so he'd been told.
While khajiit weren't allowed to enter cities, their services were indispensible to the wise. And the Dawnguard were wise. Given the seclusion of the fortress, theirs was the only caravan willing to do business with the vampire hunters. They provided what the hunters wanted. In exchange, they got vampire repellents and discounts on Dawnguard gear. It was a fair bargain. He couldn't have afforded the axe otherwise.
But, their two days at Riften were up. It was time to move again, back to Dawnstar. The khajiit trade caravan was always moving, always ready for business. It was never dull, though Kharjo often wished the route would offer more natural diversity. The Nordlands were all snow and mud and cold. It got very tiresome very fast.
"New customer," Dro'Masrash said and Kharjo glanced up. It was another dunmer priest. At least, he wore the same orange robes. He spoke briefly with the woman and embraced her before she walked back to the city. The new one had a knapsack on his shoulder, and a mage's staff in his hand.
Ready for travel. Leaving Riften, then.
"Salutations," said the dunmer. He almost sounded cheerful. Kharjo had never heard a dunmer be cheerful. "Your caravan travels from Riften to Dawnstar, yes?"
"That's right," Ahkari replied. "Are you in need of anything, stranger?"
"Yes, actually. You see, I'm headed to Dawnstar myself, and the roads are treacherous." He smiled. "I was wondering if I could join you. I'll pay for food, of course."
Ahkari considered this, but ended up accepting. Having a mage had its advantages, even for a one-way trip. For some food, it was a bargain. Kharjo observed the newcomer carefully as he deposited his tent inside the caravan. He didn't look like a crook. And the priestess knew him, so that was a good thing. When he caught Kharjo's gaze, the elf smiled and nodded. He nodded in turn, though doubts remained in his mind.
Please, Alkosh, let this not bring any trouble with it.
