Disclaimer: All Morrowind stuff belongs to Bethesda Software. Rawk.
A/N: Sorry this took so long! I'll be faster next time!
Rock and Destrina peered around the corner, keeping perfectly still. They watched the procession slowly make its way into the city. A normal trade-goods caravan. Or so it seemed. What normal caravan was tended by twelve different slaves and watched by very suspicious and warlike Dunmer?
Destrina was making notes in her journal, scratching the pages with a fingernail. Rock-In-The-River was intrigued by this casual - albeit practical - use of magic, but it did not seem right to ask about it. Besides, there was something definitely wrong with this caravan. It demanded his attention more than a book.
"I've seen those men before," Destrina whispered.
Rock-In-The-River nodded, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Smugglers. See how dee slaves are struggling wid deh crates? Ebony, surely, and perhaps Daedric and Dwemer weapons also." Rock scented the air, and snorted. "Spells on the crates to make dem lighter. But not light enough." He snorted again. The smell of hopelessness and despair from the slaves was unsettling. And all too familiar.
Destrina watched the slaves with a frown. "Something isn't right about this," she said, her anger fading under barely concealed confusion. "Something doesn't feel right."
Rock-In-The-River cast his eyes over the caravan, watching as it slowly crawled through the city streets. Every few moments, a trader would branch off to take a different path through the city, escorted by their burly guards and their struggling slaves. Like all smugglers, these men and women maintained a veneer of respectability and traded legitimate items along with illegal goods. The Ordinators could do nothing but look on with polite placid faces, their scowls hidden behind their masks. The Three Houses ruled Vivec, despite the god residing in his locked palace. The Three Houses decided what was Law.
But Destrina was right. Something about this smuggler's procession was wrong. Rock-In-The-River scented the air again, trying to discern what it was. Nothing out of the ordinary reached his nostrils - sweat, blood, alcohol, travel rations; misery, suspicion, greed, smugness, gold-lust and fear. These were smugglers, their guards and their slaves. So why the feeling that something…
Destrina snapped her book shut as the caravan dispersed and scattered. "Should we follow them?" She paused. "Well, one of them, at least?"
"Which House do you suspect dee most?" Rock-In-The-River said, unable to take his eyes from the scrawny form of a male Bosmer, struggling beneath two creaking crates. If not for the hidden enchantments that held the crates together and lightened them somewhat, that poor Bosmer would have been dead long ago. As it was, he did not look like he had much life left in him.
"Not Redoran," Destrina said. "Other than that…" She bit her lip. "Telvanni."
Rock-In-The-River looked at the Redguard, and raised an eyebrow. "Is dat because you suspect them for smuggling, or because of dee Mad-Elf murders?"
Destrina slid her journal back in her tunic. "It's a fifty-fifty chance that Telvanni is the House behind the smuggling that I was ordered to investigate, Rock. Besides, the Telvanni are famous for their magic. They are the only ones who could cast a spell powerful enough to lighten a crate of Daedric weapons."
"Perhaps."
Rock-In-The-River looked back around the corner. The Bosmer slave was struggling, but a snap from the slavemaster's whip made him stagger. The head merchant looked down at the elf with disgust.
"Move faster, s'wit!" The Dunmer merchant barked. "I won't be delayed because of the weakness of one slave!"
The Bosmer tried to drag himself faster, both crates balanced on his bowed back. The slavemaster cracked his whip again - the Bosmer nearly cried out as the leather drew blood across his legs. Despite the pain the poor elf kept going. The merchant made a noise of disgust, but strode on, leaving the slavemaster and the guards to deal with it.
The other slaves just kept their heads down, but moved almost imperceptibly faster under their burdens. They did not want to be punished the way the Bosmer was.
A Bosmer… A Bosmer slave…
"Rock-In-The-River?" Destrina shook him gently by the shoulder. "Rock, are you even listening to me?"
Rock pointed at the thin pale slave. "What do you see?"
Destrina looked, then frowned and returned her gaze to Rock-In-The-River's enraged eyes. "Slaves. It's horrible, but with those guards, Rock, I can't do anything. Besides, I don't have the authority to free them. My assignment…"
"Look closer," Rock hissed, his throat-frill blossoming dark pink. "Look at the slaves!"
Destrina looked. She didn't see it for a moment, but then her mouth dropped open with shock. Slowly, she began shaking with anger, and the Argonian had to place a strong claw on her arm to stop her from charging forward and dashing the slavemaster's brains out with her mace.
There were seven slaves in total in this part of the now-dissembled caravan. But there was no Argonian or Khajiit among them. The slaves were some of the members of the so-called 'Free Races': two Redguards, two Imperials, and two Bretons - male and female of each - along with the male Bosmer slave.
"Those FILTHY…"
Rock-In-The-River pulled Destrina back out of sight as the caravan disappeared around a corner. "As you said, Destrina," he said dryly, "You do not have the authority to free them."
"But those are Redguards! Those are my people!"
Rock-In-The-River gave a hiss that ended the argument. "And how do you think I feel whenever I see my brothers and sisters of dee Black Marsh under their whips, Redguard? No," he let go of her arm, "You wait. You watch. You plan." He scowled at her. "Precious liddle else you can do."
"But…" Destrina's protests faded. She steeled herself with a breath. "Now what?"
Rock's tongue flickered. "We follow them. I have dere scent." And slowly, he faded from sight.
Destrina watched, wide-eyed, as Rock-In-The-River disappeared. "By the goddess…" Where the Argonian once stood was now nothing but air.
"Are you coming?" His disembodied voice asked, "I cannot hide like this forever."
"I can't even see you!"
Rock sounded pleased. "Good. You are not meant to." He paused. "Follow me."
"How?"
The Argonian sighed. "Follow deh sound of my footprints, Redguard."
Destrina listened, and heard the sound of Rock's padding footsteps. Moving quietly herself, she followed the sound, keeping half an eye on the caravan.
The slaves plodded along the road, hurried by the slavers and the shouts of the impatient merchants. Destrina could not help but wonder why no-one was curious about the strange variation of slaves - wouldn't Dunmer notice that the usual array of Khajiit and Argonians was replaced? Why did no-one see the difference?
There was a whistle from at the head of the caravan. The head merchant lifted his hands, and waved them lazily over the heads of the slaves. Though they staggered on, the slaves seemed to shimmer and change.
"What in Molag Bal's unholy name?" Destrina stared. The slaves had transformed into Khajiit and Argonians as she'd watched. Magic! A minor enchantment. But why?
An Ordinator came around the corner. He saw the procession, nodded brusquely at the head merchant, then marched on.
"Paid to heed no mind to dee merchants," Rock's voice murmured thoughtfully. Destrina thought she could see the Argonian's vague outline against the smooth stone walls. "But obviously, dey are not paid so much that they would not 'not-notice' Redguard, Imperial and Breton slaves."
Destrina clenched her teeth as Rock-In-The-River faded back into sight. "But why hide them now? Why not keep them hidden all the time? Surely, someone like us might notice."
"Oh, yes?" Rock shook his frills. "And what would someone like us do, Lady Redguard? Report it to the guards? They'd think us liars or madmen. Take matters into our own hands? Dat's what de bodyguards are for. We'd be cut down…" He hissed, then composed himself. "Dis is your mission. What should we do?"
"I need proof that the House Telvanni is smuggling goods." Destrina said, dragging her eyes away from the transformed slaves. "I need proof."
"A ledger, perhaps?" Rock smiled slightly. "I could help you wid dat."
Destrina nodded. "Yes. That would help me. Thankyou."
"Don't thank me until after I have brought you back your book." Rock-In-The-River peered around the corner again. "And you shall have it. It will not take long."
Destrina frowned. "Well, what shall I do until then?"
Rock looked back, seemingly unconcerned. "Get some sleep? You seem fond of that."
Destrina pulled a face. "Very humorous. No, thankyou. What if something happened to me? Like before?"
Rock paused, and seemed to be thinking. "Listen," he said finally, almost grudgingly, "Far south of Vivec, across the water, there is a ship. It crashed on a sandbar many years ago. That is my home. You may stay there, as long as you tell no-one where it is."
Destrina stared. "I won't. Thankyou for your generosity."
Rock-In-The-River shrugged, then turned his attention back to the caravan. "I will meet you there." He stepped out from behind the corner and vanished, but Destrina heard his feet against the stone as he hurried to catch up with the caravan. She watched the caravan as it moved up into the Telvanni section, then turned to go.
Rock-In-The-River. He worked for the Morag Tong, yet he was willing to help her. Why? She didn't know. Ever since she had run into him, that Argonian seemed to have become part of her life. Or she part of his. Either way, nothing seemed clear - why was she helping him, and why he her? Was it really because they needed each other's help? Or was there something else?
Destrina felt shivers down her spine. Someone was watching her. She carefully cast her eyes around, and saw a stealthy shadow behind her. She stopped, and turned to look back. The shadow was gone.
"I know you're there." Destrina said loudly. "If you have a quarrel with me, show yourself."
Nothing. Silence and nothing. Destrina frowned. "Come on, Johorn. If you want to kill me, now's the time."
The challenge went unanswered.
Destrina turned back and started walking a little faster. Far, far south of Vivec, a ship caught on a sandbar. She knew water-walking spells. She could run there. She could hide and be safe.
But then Rock would lose his home if others knew about it. And she didn't want that. Rock had trusted her with the secret of his home, and she would not betray it. She had to run elsewhere, and then cross to Rock's ship after she had lost her pursuers.
Destrina broke into a jog, then a run, heading for the bridge that connected the city with the wild. She could lose her pursuers in the forest. Then she would go and wait for Rock-In-The-River, and the hunt for Mad Elf would continue.
The stone beneath her feet gave way to dirt and grass, and her footsteps were muted. The Redguard ducked and swerved between the trees, moving further and further from the city. She looked back. The shadow following her had company. And they were gaining. The same ones who tried to kidnap her in the tavern, no doubt. Johorn and his friends come to finish what they started.
Well, she wasn't going to let them catch her this time. She had a mission to complete, and by the stars, she was not going to let some arrogant Dunmer men disrupt her quest to find and solve…
A tree-root grabbed Destrina's foot, and she stumbled. She barely had time to right herself before Johorn was there, a blade at her throat. The other three surrounded her, blades ready and faces savage. She struggled, but she was outnumbered and unprepared.
"You've been a nuisance for far too long, Redguard." He hissed, pinning her facedown into the grass, "But you've made yourself very useful just now. Out here," he laughed and gestured to the trees, "Who is going to hear you scream?"
Rock-In-The-River followed the caravan, occasionally lifting the heavy burden of coin from the slavers and the merchants. Rock was not picky. Money was money, no matter where it came from. And when it came from filthy slavers… well, you'd better just take everything you can get your claws on. He tucked a few bottles of strange herbal alcohol into his tunic - perhaps later Destrina could tell him what they were. She was a healer, after all, and worked with herbs. She would know.
The caravan stopped. The burdened slaves - still covered with the illusion - lifted their crates onto the head-merchant's cart. Each one was flanked by a slaver guard, and watched carefully. After they had unloaded the crates, the slaves were harried back towards the slavers' carts, where they were shackled together. The crates on the slaver's cart were not enchanted - one sniff told Rock-In-The-River that those crates held only food and iron. Nothing illegal. The head merchant got the alcohol, the Daedric and Dwemer weapons and the ebony, but the slaver got the slaves? What if the merchant wanted to unload his goods? And wouldn't the merchant want to sell the slaves? What is going on?
The head merchant held up his hand. "I want the goods to hit the market by morning," he told the slavers, "And as for the rest, I want them in the usual place."
The head slaver nodded obsequiously. "Of course, sera."
"And I want them alive and healthy before tonight," the head merchant said loftily. "Especially the females. The last one escaped, and our benefactor was not pleased. You will be seeing him tonight, by the way. He will be inspecting the goods. They had better be to his liking."
"Understood, sera."
The head merchant sniffed, then led his cart on. The now-unburdened slaves stayed behind, with the head slaver and his carts. Rock-In-The-River looked between the split caravan, puzzled. To follow the head merchant would certainly lead to the ledger that detailed the smuggling, just like Destrina wanted, but… 'the benefactor'? Was there some power behind the Houses' smuggling? To find proof of this would see Destrina's quest answered ten-fold, and perhaps then something would be done about the smuggling.
But the way the merchant spoke suggested that the 'benefactor' wanted the slaves themselves, not the illegal items. Someone was paying for slaves? Well, yes, obviously, but these weren't slaves.
These were members of the free races.
Rock-In-The-River frowned, looking between the merchant and the slaver caravan, trying to decide which one to follow. He promised Destrina a ledger, a record of the smuggling. But here was an opportunity he could not pass up. A possible way to end the slavery in Vivec, as well as to sate his own curiosity.
Rock-In-The-River followed carefully behind the head slaver. He wanted to meet this 'benefactor' for himself. Keeping behind the shackled slaves and watching out of one eye to make sure he did not bump into the bodyguards, Rock followed the slaver caravan deep into the Telvanni section of the city.
A/N: More soon!
