CHAPTER FOUR
Here and Now
The Dunmer had not ignored Artania's quick and unjustified departure and he had noticed her exit the South Wall to go wherever it was she really needed to be at the time. He simply did not know if she was worth the effort to pursue; in the present situation, the wiser course for him would have been not to and anyway, he guessed she would return to the Guild, later. Not even he could explain the exact reason why he thought this particular outlander was different and that she might be able to help him.
But Reldar wasn't the one to bother thinking of what might be and planning his actions any further than his next meal. He was a man of the present and near future, of what was either right there or within his immediate reach; he lived by improvising. So, he soon dropped all thought of her and re-entered, to check on how his own personal status had evolved. He had no trouble finding Phane Rielle, the Breton with powerful acquaintances and relations, who was the local member of the Thieves Guild in charge of getting prices off people's heads. The charismatic, but aged man was on the lower floor, as usual, comfortably leaning against the counter's smooth edge; his part in the pretense that the place was indeed a 'working class cornerclub' had long been the role of bartender.
"Ah, my friend," he greeted Reldar with a broad grin as soon as the Dunmer came into his view range. "Enjoying your evening? No?" He looked affected, if only for the theatrical air such an act provided for him. "Well, you can. I've solved your little problem."
The Dark Elf gave a curt nod in his general direction and considered it to be enough thanking for the news; he wasn't indebted to the Breton with anything – it had been a fair trade, a service for another. "What's on tap?" he asked quietly as his eyes scanned the room for any other new presences. He wasn't familiar enough with the regular 'clientèle' to say that there were no new faces at all, but at least he could spot nothing that looked unusual.
"Whatever you want," answered the Breton. "No skooma, of course. Not that I'm implying you would want any."
Reldar held a sigh within him with utmost difficulty; he felt too tired for Phane's antics that particular night, and he still had much to do. "Give me enough brandy to fill some three or four small goblets," he finally spoke and managed not to look a hundred percent desolate as he did so. That, though he knew the pleasantness of his prospects about how he should spend the evening would end soon and the ordeal would begin anew. There was nothing to look forward to in his present and near future this time.
He decided that the pacing should stop; after all, someone had to be drinking that brandy – not that it was anything vital, but good drinks couldn't just sit by. Managing to flash his usual smirk, Reldar came to a halt, then turned and finally took his seat at the small table on the South Wall's uppermost floor. His hand exerted its regular functions on the goblet in front of him and he downed a good, refreshing long sip of the burning liquor. From across the round wooden surface, Bacola Closcius was eyeing him warily, his own goblet in hand, absently though it was being held.
The Dunmer broke the silence that had reigned between the two of them for the past twenty minutes or more, ever since they had stopped conversing about the beneficial properties of their shared drink. "I doubt a newcomer would bolt straight for the Guild," he mused and began to hold the other man's gaze at long last as he tried to seem casual. "So, what did she truly want?"
"Hmm?" asked Bacola Closcius with a small frown. "What's that?"
"The new girl; the young, brown-haired one who just joined tonight," clarified Reldar.
"Ah," the Imperial man appeared to be taken a bit aback by the unexpected question; he had obviously been expecting another subject. "She asked about old Caius Cosades, up on the North edge of Balmora." Reldar's eyes clouded right as they stared in his own and the proprietor of the South Wall needed no more proof that the Dunmer would fall silent again. Then, the realization came. "Now, how would you even know about her?"
Reldar shrugged. "Don't worry," he reassured the other with a lazy wave of the hand, while his elbow fell gently onto the wooden surface below and stayed there. "I am sure you were eloquent enough in telling her -not- to come out on the terrace. If I still know people, it would be my guess that your warning was precisely why she -did-, after all."
"I see," the Imperial shook his head and a smirk showed in the corners of his mouth. There had always been something exquisite about this Dark Elf, an indefinite natural talent that he could not bring in the light and define; but he was fond of the man. "And what did she say that captivated you so?"
"Captivated me?" Reldar stared in wonder and one of his fine eyebrows rose slightly to form an arc. "It's not as you think; something felt odd about that one."
"Something did," Bacola Closcius agreed almost whole-heartedly. "Do you think she may be trouble for us?"
Reldar shook his head in a rather dismissive and unconcerned fashion. The Imperial relaxed – it was only rarely that his Dunmer acquaintance was wrong about such things. Indeed, despite his rather young age, the Dark Elf knew people like no other, almost as if he had a sixth sense that told him what they were thinking; it may have been natural intuition, or the result of his countless travels, during which he had no doubt seen much. Either way, silence enveloped the scene again and they both sat staring through each other, lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Reldar stood, so swiftly that not one thing other than him moved and it seemed as if the air itself hadn't stirred at all. Or maybe it had been just Bacola Closcius' brandy-induced state of mind that made it appear that way.
"I have some matters I need to attend," said the Dunmer and it wasn't difficult to tell that he was picking his words carefully. "Tell me if I can come back here afterwards, or if I should look for another hideout first."
"You can come," the Imperial replied with a small shrug. "I doubt anything you could do can cause trouble for us here."
"We won't be on even ground anymore if that happens," Reldar continued. "Give thought to the service you wish to ask of me in return."
"I always do, don't I?" chuckled the half-drunk proprietor of the South Wall, while his head was feeling heavy, as if it had sunk in water and the rest of his body was still out.
"And stop drinking for the night," the Dunmer continued, shaking his head, then he picked up his backpack from a corner of the room and strapped it to his shoulders with one fluid move. "See you later... perhaps."
Artania considered that her newest accomplishment, of having found the home of Caius Cosades, had been far easier to reach than the previous two. She was glad to knock on the door and see the mild interior light flowing out as it came open, for the night was chilly and the fabric of her garments thin. She could see the source of that light, a paper lantern, as soon as she stepped in, under the careful scrutiny of an Imperial man aged enough for his hair to be completely white, though his face retained part of its youthful smoothness. How exactly that had come about, having in mind she had been told he consumed moon sugar, would probably remain a mystery. Or perhaps, on contrary, he was quite young and aging before his time. Either way, it was a pointless debate.
She examined him further when his back was turned to her, as he closed the door. The muscles that rippled beneath the bare skin – why did men think it was all right not to wear shirts? – denoted that he had once been doing more than just sit about and wait for packages to arrive with obscure prisoners. He was quite short, smoothly about the same height as Artania herself, though of a harder build, as was normal. When he spun again and faced her, it was impossible for her to read a thing in the deep brown of his questioning eyes – he knew as well as she did how to hide what he was thinking of.
There was no one else in the small room, the only one the house apparently had, but the two of them. They had little free space to operate in, caught between a bed and a small corner table, where the rogue could spot his skooma pipe. Ingeniously enough and much to her displeasure, he had possessed the wit to trap her between the wall, the furniture and himself, ensuring she could not hurt him if she still wanted to get away with it.
"Don't just stand there staring at me," the man said once he realized she wouldn't speak. The way he looked at her came with a bit of contempt, almost as if a measure of it had melded with his natural impatience over time and had formed an entire attitude of general disregard for everything. This man had most certainly once been a very busy individual with much to handle in a short time.
"I have this package for you... given to me by the legion captain in Seyda Neen," Artania spoke loud enough to be heard and made sure she sounded impassive and professional. She didn't want any trouble and this man looked like the sort that might make some if she caused him any disservice.
"What are you waiting for, then?" he sighed, and held out a hand. "Let me have a look at it."
The rogue could barely contain a small grin as she slipped the backpack from her shoulders, pulled it open and began to fish through it for the small bundle she was supposed to give to him. It was amazing what Imperial bureaucracy could do to people, how it could turn them into cold and calculated personae with little in the way of consideration for others. True – it was amusing in this particular situation, but in general it was quite a sad truth; that cut off Artania's grin and she just handed the package over, then strapped her bag back shut and in place.
Caius' nimble fingers worked quickly in the way of tearing the seal open and unrolling the bunch of scrolls that came apart once their ties with each other were broken. His eyes darted from side to side as he skimmed through an enormous mass of text, an ability to essentialize that Artania simply had to commend in her mind. Of course, it was but another side effect of the way his life had turned out.
"Yes, yes, very interesting," he mumbled expressly to himself in the end, then poised the same scrutinizing gaze on the young woman and seemed to think for a bit. "So. It says here the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades."
Artania's jaw dropped, only on a mental level, since she had too much in the way of self control to show her awe through any physical means. She knew all kinds of senseless tell-tale about the Blades; they were rumored to be the Emperor's own secret agents, his eyes and ears in all provinces of the wide-spread Empire of Tamriel. Only then did she seem to realize that the package had slipped from her mind in such a way that it did not even induce enough curiosity for her to try and glimpse what it said and contained. Maybe magic had been involved and dulled her natural curiosity in such a way.
Caius Cosades cleared his throat in a highly unceremonious fashion. "You'll be following my orders," he said dryly. "Let me know when you're ready to receive them."
"No, I will not!" she objected mechanically, by a sheer reflex she had refined within herself in years of disobeying the authorities and standing against them. Seeing the rather surprised glance that Caius Cosades cast her way, she smirked and shoved her hands carelessly in her pockets with an apologetic shrug. "I don't care about the Emperor. Sorry."
"Nice choice," the man commented to himself, obviously about the abilities of whoever had decreed she was the one to carry the message to him. Or at least that was what Artania thought, though the strange look he next gave her, and the way his face darkened behind it, did not look comforting at all. "Listen, you don't really have much of a choice. This is Morrowind; still and Imperial province. You look smart – surely you're getting the drift?"
Indeed, Artania understood what he meant very well. "I'll... think about it," she promised dejectedly. "But don't rush me."
"You will return, then, for your orders," said a confident Caius. "Perhaps it's not good for you to start right now anyway. Look at you. Lack of experience personified. Tell you what... take these..."
His speech had turned to mumbles progressively as he turned away and opened a small drawer on the side of his corner table. From there, he pulled out a small bag and counted out two hundred septims, which he handed to Artania.
"But I have..." The rogue cut herself off in time. This was ridiculous; she was getting money and she had just been about to deny them? "Thanks."
"I knew you'd see some sense," nodded Caius with a smile as she pocketed the money. "Use those to buy some useful equipment, or to train your combat. Or whichever other 'art' you wish."
"Yeah... I will..." Artania accepted, though not whole-heartedly. I knew you'd see some sense. Now she knew why she had first wanted to refuse the money, but it was too late. Dirty Imperial money, obtained by exploiting the poor. Maybe.
"Well, it's dark already," the man remarked calmly. "Since you'll be a Blade and I'm here all day and can sleep any time, you can use my bed to rest. Just don't steal anything from around here."
"You mean.. rest at your place?" Artania asked, perplexed.
"Or at the house of any other Blade," Caius shrugged. "I'll give you a list of them when you've done me a first favor. Right now, here'll have to do."
"No, thanks," the rogue's decision was made instantly. "I'll guess I just have to find a tavern."
"Suit yourself. Let me see," Caius mused for a bit, then obviously an idea came to him. "Yes. For your sort, I'd suggest the Lucky Lockup, just by the Council Club, which is vis-a-vis of the silt strider."
"Right... Lucky Lockup," Artania took to heart, though she shrugged carelessly. "Thanks, and g'night. Don't expect me back too soon, momma."
She wasn't perfectly aware of what had given her the nerve to speak like that and she didn't care. Caius Cosades rolled eyes with his eternal patience and opened the door, inviting her out. She strolled off casually, with her hands once more shoved in her pockets. Whatever was to come, this was ceasing to look like she was as alone as she thought. And the present situation wasn't exactly different from her life in Cyrodiil.
After all, what mattered for one who could die any minute, other than the current moment?
Reldar arrived in Balmora's market square, as far as he could estimate, a few minutes before the appointed hour. Being a bit early always allowed him to study the scene and sketch a backup plan in his mind, for the case when things didn't go the way he hoped. No one was out in that part of town, though Balmora had some amount of nightlife, so he assumed the locals and guards alike had been bribed away from the market for the duration of his meeting. That was the disadvantage with the Hlaalu – they loved bribes. Now, had he been in Ald'ruhn or some other Redoran territory, things may have gone differently.
"Reldar Tures," a voice which he could attribute to another Dunmer male called to him from the shadows of the armorer's shop.
He turned, to see a dark, hooded figure standing there; he had probably missed it the first time he looked, so well concealed it was. "You're the new contact?" Reldar asked with half a sly smile, and did not give the shady one the satisfaction of appearing surprised.
"Maybe," the other one replied enigmatically. "Name's Bredvil Faryon." He came out of the shadows and stopped a few feet away, but did not remove the hood, and the folds of his long cloak were concealing whatever weapon he carried. "I heard something... unfortunate happened to the old one."
"It was an accident," Reldar excused himself with a simple shrug. "Well, basically."
"House Telvanni does not tolerate that sort of 'accidents'," Bredvil replied impassively, and perhaps grinned to himself.
"House Telvanni needs me," Reldar refused to back away a single step; he seemed quite certain of himself, though only he knew this was a huge bluff.
"Do we?" asked the hooded one with amused curiosity.
"No, but you just revealed yourself clearly as one of them."
Reldar's image of the typical outlaw was an allure of permanent elegance and a personal aura of charm, no matter of the other involved factors. That was why he first took the time to chuckle as he dipped a most respectful bow, as low as his rush permitted him, and only then took off before the other could react. The dart was thrown too late and it missed him, causing a bang against Ra'Virr the trader's front door. He should be busy explaining that... maybe, Reldar thought to himself as he climbed down some extremely dark stairs into a humid and mostly unused alley between the backs of houses and shops on both sides. From there, he took a few turns and crossed quickly to the bank of the Odai River. Just as he came back out into the light, he bumped right into a figure he had seen that day already.
He overcame his surprise sooner than the other did, and he thought quickly.
"I need your help," Reldar and a lost-looking Artania told each other at the same time.
The Imperial rogue was just as awed as him, but while she tried to speak again, the Dunmer grabbed her hand and pulled her away. "No time," he explained to her unceremoniously, offering the most charming smile he could muster over his shoulder at that speed. Thus, the question of where she was being taken remained unanswered for Artania.
