Chapter 4
I do not remember much after this. I think I slept a long time, and I dreamed a great deal. I do not remember most of the dreams, only that I was very afraid. The only dream I remember is this:
The Gold Mask Man held my arm. We were in a great hall at a wedding party, with many torches on the walls and garlands hung from the doors and windows. There were tables laid out with platters of food—pigs and Kwama eggs and great cornucopias of fruit. Every thing was bright with color and light, but it was a bad light, a steady dull orange light like a fire that did not flicker. The windows were bricked in, and the air was heavy like a long-closed room. I could almost see the air, it was so thick.
I do not know how I knew this was a wedding, for I had never seen one before.
Our guests were dead Dunmer; they were mummies wrapped in sheets and skeletons bound with rope and skinless monsters without eyes. Someone had posed them like they were dolls, with their hands around goblets and their heads turned to look at the center aisle. We walked between the dead and the stillness was a perfect thing. The Gold Mask Man nodded to them and held out his arm to them. I heard his lips move and knew he spoke, but no words came out. Instead, there was a whispering sound of many voices. I turned to speak because I would say, "Why are you doing this?" But I woke up.
When I woke up, I tried to move my arms, but I was bound with ropes, and I could not see because there was a dark cloth around my eyes. I heard the man called Vidor Troccius say, "How long has she slept? This is not good, I am sure."
"Three days," said another man. "But if you are right and she is violent, then I see no problem with a few days more. I will keep a sleeping spell on her until we arrive at the Mage's Guild."
I opened my mouth and said, "Do not do this thing," and I was about to tell them that I had the soul sickness and there was a bad spirit in my dreams, and that it had taken me in my sleep. But when I spoke, this made them so frightened that I heard four healers in the room start saying spells at once. I fell asleep so fast that I did not have time to feel anger or surprise. When I woke up at last, I was angry; but these days, knowing what I do, I think this is very funny.
This time, I had another dream. I dreamed that I walked through a wasteland, and that the Gold Mask Man was everywhere, although I could not see him. The earth was cracked from drought, the sky was red, and the wind was very dry and hot. I could not see very far ahead of me, for there was a dust storm. I smelled sulfur and something like rotten eggs. The rocks were cracked and black, and were like great termite towers. All of the plants were dead; the brush was thorny and tangled, the trees had no bark, and all branches and leaves had been stripped away by fire and wind. I felt very heavy, as though I had been bound in a hundred chains.
The strange thing was that although the wind rattled the branches, and I saw rocks fall and thorns scrape against stone, I heard no sound.
Then I heard a woman's voice. But it was a very strange voice, for it was as though she spoke without language, and that she spoke with many voices at once. I remember that the woman seemed to be all around me, as though I wore her like armor. For the first time, I felt safe from Gold Mask Man.
She said, "They will take you from the Imperial City's prison—first by carriage, and then by boat. You will travel through the east to Morrowind and the coast of Vvardenfell. Fear not, for I am watchful."
At that moment I knew everything, but then I fell into a dreamless sleep and forgot. This is the way of gods. They are afraid that mortals should know too much.
When I woke again, I was in a little stone room only as long as I am tall. It had a very high ceiling, and a little barred window, through which I could see gray morning light. There was a rusty iron door, which I could tell had been long shut. They had polished and oiled the hinges, and replaced one. They had nailed a board of new wood against the bars, to block my view of the outside; the wood was still green and smelled of the forest. But this was the only fresh smell, for beneath the door crept the stink of sickness, decay, mold, and rats. Outside, I heard the rustle of clothing and a man cough, and the faraway wheezing of someone with a lung sickness.
When I sat up, I saw that I had manacles on my wrists and bracers on my ankles, and that there was a chain that connected them in the middle and latched onto the wall. I could stand up straight, but I could not spread my arms or walk well, and I could not move further than three steps from my bed.
I thought: "So here is where I will stand trial for the killing of those Nords." I also thought, "I am not sorry," and I knew that the minute I had the chance, I would sneak out, and I would kill anyone who tried to stop me. Then I would go home.
But soon I realized that something was odd. My room was swept and smelled of soap. There were places in the rough stone where someone had tried to remove dark stains. My bed was no slave's pad; it was a tick stuffed with feathers. I had down pillows, and two blankets woven by a master's hand. By my side was a stool, which smelled of soft-skin. It was a recent smell.
The greatest strangeness was this: that of all the wounds I had received in the Nord's field, I was healed of all of them. All I suffered was the headache of one who has slept too much.
I sat up on my bed and I said loudly, "This is a funny thing, to let a murderer live, and to heal her wounds and give her a king's bed."
There was a muttering. A slat in the door was opened. I saw a soft-skin's surprised eyes.
"If you are not going to kill me, I want to go," I said. "I must return to the Black Marsh, and then I must find Moon-under-Stars."
The little slat was slammed shut. I heard muffled voices. A man said, "Go, alert the healer! Tell General Troccius!"
I knew a little about the military, since the Dark Elves are fond of taking slaves of high repute and spoke much about it in the slave house. So I was very surprised to hear this. Was Troccius a slave, that he went taking the census like a common scribe?
Soon I heard men talking in whispers outside my door, and the tramp of boots. My door swung open. Troccius stood in the doorway in his long black cape. There was dew on his boots and the tail of his cape. Behind him, I saw a cell where a Dark Elf pressed his face against the bars. The Dark Elf had no bed at all, just a heap of straw. This pleased me very much.
"Ah! Mud-on-Her-Face," Troccius said. "I am glad to see that you are well."
"What purpose do you have, healing a criminal, and giving her a feather bed?" I asked.
He smiled a little. I know how to read soft-skin faces better now, so I know it was because he was surprised. "No one can say you are not honest," he said. "My friend, you will be glad to know that the Emperor has seen fit to pardon you."
"This makes no sense to me," I said. "What knowledge should an Emperor have of a slave? And if he knew I was a slave in Morrowind, and left me in chains, then he is a hypocrite, and I spit in his face."
The guards grew very quiet, and I saw them sweat. This also gave me great happiness.
"I would recommend that you not insult the Emperor's gifts," said Troccius in a cold voice. "Besides, he has righted that wrong, hasn't he?"
"My people and the Khajjiit, they go in and out of the doors of the slave house," I said. "They are snared like rabbits and sold into the unspeakable trade every day. Why has he chosen to save only one?"
"What he does and does not is no concern of yours," said Troccius. "He is the Emperor; his whim is the law. There are reasons he does not shut down the slave houses and round up the slavers, but that is not for discussion. The case is this. He will forgive you of all of your crimes, and you will not go to the chopping block. But only under this condition."
"You are sending me to Vvardenfell," I said.
The soldiers stood very still now. One turned very white. I know now, from the insignia they wore, that they were the emperor's personal guard. So they knew all his secrets.
"How did you know that?" said Troccius. His voice was quiet. His face had paled like the belly of a dead fish.
"I was told by a woman with the voice of a god," I said. "I do not want to go to Vvardenfell. I would rather die."
Troccius turned; he saw the Dark Elf in his cell, with his face pressed against the bars, and his mouth open. Then Troccius pointed at him. One of the guards raised his sword. The Dark Elf screamed and ran against the far wall, but they opened up the door and went in and stabbed him in the throat and heart. His blood ran out into the hall.
"Is anyone else within earshot?" asked Troccius. "Go, and see."
The soldiers drew their swords and went down the hall on either side. I heard two people cry out, and then silence. As for Troccius, he closed the door behind him. He stood very close to me, for the cell was very small. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
I would have laughed, because I was chained, and there was no need for fear on his part; but I could not smile, because now I was very sorry that I had shown them my knowledge of their language. Maybe they would have spoken frankly if they thought I could not understand them.
"This is a strange business," I said.
"Don't say a word of that to anyone," he said. "If you have any more dreams, you should keep them to yourself. As for slavery, you are not to be sold. What the Emperor wants is for you to go to Vvardenfell for a short time."
"How short?"
"It will be made obvious to you by contacts on the island, who we will introduce to you," he said, very slowly. "When you are finished with your business, you may return to the mainland, and do whatever you like."
"I don't like this business," I said. "How will I know I am finished? What am I to do?"
"You are to wander, and do as you please, and keep contact with the Emperor's agents," he said. "You are to do as you are told, to a… certain degree."
I snapped my teeth together. "I will go home."
"We have contacted a sorcerer of great strength," he said. "You have already been bewitched. When you land on Vvardenfell, the charm on you will come alive. You will not be able to leave the island. If you step onto a boat, and that boat takes you a hundred feet from the shore, you will be gripped by an excruciating pain. You will not be able to walk, to sleep, or find any kind of comfort; you will only find relief once you return to the island."
"This is a foul thing," I said, and showed my teeth.
"It is better than being killed," he said. "You will have the rest of your life to yourself; the Emperor has decreed it. His will is law. No man will be able to enslave you upon pain of death."
"Is the Emperor my friend? Does he walk with me and guard me with his sword?" I said. "I have no need for swordless laws or swordless men; my hand is sufficient. Let any man try to enslave me, and law or not, I will kill them myself. When I go free I will find the Nords and I will burn down their house with them inside, and I will find the slave-house in Vivar and kill every man in it."
"Gods," said Troccius. "Then this is a terrible thing we are doing; but it can't be helped. You will be taught how to fight a little by our masters here in the Imperial City; you will be taught how to use a little healing magic; and then we will set you on the island. When you are free, you will know it. Surely it shall not take longer than a year or two. Hopefully it will temper your wickedness."
I laughed in his face, and he left. He had a stricken face and I saw that he did not like me. This is a funny thing. Only a man who has everything—the law, and money, and a good life—can despise a man who has nothing and no way to procure what he wants and needs except by force. What wickedness is there in justice? And if a man does not receive justice from the hand of law, should he not seek it himself?
That night I was afraid to sleep, because I thought that I was to be married to the bad spirit, and I did not want to dream of the wedding night. So I went to the door and shouted. I said, "I need a plate and some pebbles."
The guard said through the door, "What use have you for that?"
"I have the soul sickness," I said. "If I sleep, the bad spirit will take me. I must wake myself up."
But they laughed at me and said, "You have slept a great deal already, and you haven't been taken yet. We will not get a plate for you! What is this nonsense?"
So I kept myself awake into the dark hours of the night by several means. I shook my chains. I sang the songs of my people very loudly. I said all of my books to myself. The guards outside groaned and cursed at me. Sometimes they opened the slat and they said, "Be quiet!"
I said, "Bring me a plate and some pebbles!"
By the fourth watch they brought me a plate and some pebbles. I slept a little, and it was fine. I had no bad dreams. But the Gold Mask Man waited at my door. I know; I saw him through the slat.
The next morning, Troccius came to my cell and shut the door behind him. He said, "What is this I hear about plates and pebbles?"
"I have the soul sickness," I said. "There is a Gold Mask Man who is trying to cast a curse on me." Then I told him about my dreams.
Troccius set his mouth in the way that humans do when they are thinking.
I said, "Bring me a book on soul sickness or a shaman with knowledge."
Troccius said, "You were asleep for a week and three days. You appear of hale mind."
"I told you that I wed the Gold Mask Man," I said. "What do you think will happen next? I tell you, I will not give him any more of me. Give me a book or a shaman."
"I will go to the archmages today and ask on your behalf," he said. "Wait for me. In the meantime, you will see a master who will teach you the arts you need to survive on Vvardenfell."
My new life was a very strange one.
They moved me to a different cell. It was bigger, and in its own corridor, which was locked and guarded by three men. No other prisoners were kept there. Troccius said, "It was a mistake to keep her with the other prisoners. We cannot hide her forever, but we must do our best to."
"Why?" I said. "I never hid before."
"Don't ask questions," he said.
"This is strange business," I told him.
Every morning, I was given a simple breakfast of ham or eggs with fruit and well-water. Then I was taken in chains to my teachers by several guards. The guards took me by different routes every time. They covered cells with blankets so the prisoners could not see me, covered my face so I could not be seen, bound my body so my gender could not be told, and bound my mouth so I could not talk.
They would take me to a large circular room with sawdust on the floor, torches on the walls, and a big window on the ceiling. They would cover the doors with charms that sound could not escape, and then the room was surrounded by twelve Imperial guards. They took the chains and bindings off of my body. Then I would learn, for this room was where the tutors came to see me.
My first tutor taught me the fine arts of the Imperial language. He also taught me Dunmeri, the language of the Dark Elves, and how to read, write, and speak it. He was a little old Dunmer with arms like sticks, and he shook all the time. I could have killed him even with the chains on my arms, and I would have liked to, but I will not lie: I liked the learning of the language. By knowing their tongue, I could listen at their doorsteps. I would find their secrets and use them against them. It pleased me very much. They had a very ugly language, even uglier than the Imperial tongue. It rattles and hisses and slurs, and uses the front of the lips, which is very hard for me.
When I had learned from the tutor for three days, I told him, "Tell me what they will do to me."
"I do not know," he said. "And if I did know, they would not let me tell you."
My second tutor was a small soft-skin who they call a "Breton." They are very thin and pale and dark-haired. When they stand next to Imperial soft-skins, they look like children. She tried to teach me the magic of healing. But I was very bad at it. She said, "This one is no good with magic. She does not have the affinity."
I said that I did not mind, because I knew of good herbs for salves and potions for all manners of illness.
Troccius said, "That is not good enough. If she breaks her leg in the wilds, no one will find her, and she will die."
"That is not so," I said. "First, I will set my leg. Then I will make a brace of a strong stick or a bone and bandages from cloth, or hide, or fibrous leaves of the…"
"You will die," he said. "Now practice the words."
I had not hated Troccius in the beginning, but now I hated him, for he was like a father, and I was past the age for fathers.
So the Breton mage gave me many foul potions to drink, which hurt my belly, but did nothing else.
Later, three men came to see us. When they saw me, they hated me, for they were Dark Elves. They did not greet us at first, because they were surprised. Because they did not like me, I smiled and said terrible words in my own language.
One wizard said, "I do not like her teeth."
Another said, "Should she not be bound?"
The Breton said, "Archmages, you have been chosen because you are the best in your art. But we have run a risk employing you, as we know that your race has no love for the Argonians. If we find that you have mishandled this ceremony, you will be killed."
This was a marvel to me.
So the archmages bowed their heads and made a great ceremony for me. They drew signs in the dust and lit many candles, then gave me more potions to drink, and wrote inscriptions on my body in inks of many colors. They bid me to lie down and to stand up and to stretch my limbs in different ways, and chanted great words, and burned strange fires and incense. They ground precious stones and strange plants, and mingled them with odd powders that I had never seen, then bid me eat it. It was bad stuff.
After that, a strange fire woke in my belly, which went into my arms and legs. Then when I said the magic words, I could heal bones and wounds. But it is still a very hard business and I do not like it. It gives me a bad headache and makes me very tired.
Later, the Breton mage gave me a strange necklace made of silver and emeralds. It made the fire in my belly stronger. She said, "Do not lose this. It is worth more than ten houses."
"Why would they give this to me?" I said.
"I do not know," she said. "But if I say a word about you outside this room, they are authorized to kill me."
My final teacher was a Person of the Root. He had a crown of horns and fine feathers. He was older than I was, but very strong, with arms like cords, and had many scars and tattoos. He was to teach me the spear, which our people use best of all peoples. I did not think I would be happy to see any person, even one of my own people. If I had been young I would have hated him because he looked like the Hunters from my tribe. But I was very happy to see him. I spoke to him in my tongue, which was old and strange to me now, because I had not used it with another Person for a year.
I said, "Are you a slave, too?"
He said with a snort, "Do I look like a slave? No! I am a Master from the Fighter's Guild."
His name was Scratches-behind-Ear, because when he thought he would scratch at his feathers. He said he was a "mercenary," a sword who fights for money.
This was my favorite part of the day. It was good to speak the right language, and to use the traditional tools of my people. I learned how to stand, which is the most important part. He said, "Your stance is your foundation." I was taught how to dodge, to use the killing thrust and the swipe. I learned to use my strength and speed and head. It was good to stab the training dummy; I thought of the Nord and it made my strikes strong. Scratches-behind-Ear told me I was good, and that I would be fine in the wilderness, for most bandits are not very good at fighting and have poor gear. They find their strength in groups.
"There are bandits there?" I said.
"Many," he said. "Vvardenfell is full of lawless country."
"So I am to kill bandits."
"Perhaps."
Then I asked him, "Do you know why they keep me here?"
He said, "I do not know. But they pay me well, and they have warned me: if I say a word about you outside this room, they will kill me."
Then I would be brought back to my cell, and I would be given clean water to drink, and fresh fruit and the haunches of rabbits and Kwama eggs. My evening was spent with books, which they gave me about Vvardenfell and Morrowind, as well as good maps. I said the words to myself in my dreams, which were good, for I had been given a potion to drink every night and a bewitched bracelet, which would keep the Gold Mask Man away.
But the more I thought, the more confusion I had. A god and an emperor wanted me. But they were going to throw me onto an island, and leave me there alone, where I might die. Troccius said, "If you want to be alone on Vvardenfell, you may. No chains will bind you. You must only speak to a few people, whose identities will be made known to you." This is a strange thing. If they would send me on a mission, then I would like it much better, for there would be rules.
Instead, they said, "You will be free there!"
But what sense is there in that? I was not free. I was still a man's slave. I could not go home. I could not look for Moon-under-Stars or the Traveling Salesman. I had to live on an island that is full of blight storms, where the disease is very bad, even for the Dunmer.
"Tell me what the emperor's purpose is," I told Troccius.
"You will see soon enough," he said.
I wish now that I had been wise, and that I had not loved the learning so much. I wish I had remembered the lesson that all soft-skins work for each other first. I tell you, I am too easily drunk on knowledge. If I had not loved knowledge, I would have thought about escape. I could have escaped, if I wanted to, but I never tried. My belly and my head was full, I was warm, and I had no bad dreams anymore. I did not worry enough about why an emperor and a god and a general should pay such attention to a slave. Fool! Fool! Sometimes happiness is an empty head.