The City on the Water
Vivec, named for the living god and member of the Tribunal, was the largest city in Vvardenfell, even bigger than Cyrodiil's Imperial City. It was built on the waters of the Inner Sea and centered in the southern Ascadian Isles. The city comprised of nine cantons neatly arranged in a sort of grid, each roughly the size of Balmora's commercial district and connected by high, arched bridges. Each canton towered high above the water and was built like a stepped pyramid, comprised of four tiers and crowned by a domed structure. They were hewn from off-white limestone and embellished with blue-green marble, glittering in the sunlight like sapphires.
Each district was adorned with its own set of banners emblazoned with that district's faction colors and emblems. Adanji immediately recognized the Hlaalu canton to the west, covered by sunset-yellow flags and the emblem of scales representing commerce, while the Foreign Quarter, nearest to the silt strider port, proudly displayed gold and blue banners, the dragon symbol of the empire stitched in ruby red. Decorative fountains were built into the walls, crystal-clear water pouring into basins. At the base levels, similar 'fountains' splashed sewer water into the canals. Adanji covered her nose as she caught a whiff; it was most unfortunate that such a stunning city should also reek of excrement and rotting fish.
The locals seemed not to notice the smell as they bustled about the city. Gondoliers ferried people through the canals to various destinations, docks were busy with men hauling crates to and from large boats importing and exporting wares. Fishermen perched on the waist-high walls or docks, occasionally dropping their catch into a nearby bucket or tossing it back into the sea, sometimes standing to carry their bounty to busy merchant stalls. Vendors sold produce such as ash yams, kwama eggs and saltrice, or peddled extravagant jewelry and fine silks.
As Adanji wandered around, taking it all in, she spotted a sight that made her heart skip a beat. High above the city, just above what must have been the Temple district, floated a giant rock nearly the size of a canton, suspended precariously by unknown means. It bobbed gently in the breeze, like a ship on the ocean, up and down, side-to-side. She could just barely make out what looked like ramps, docks, and rigging built into the rock, and assumed it must have been hollowed out somehow, but she couldn't understand why.
"You must be new 'round here," said a nearby Imperial. Given the din of the hustle and bustle, it was impossible not to hold a conversation without shouting. "Most people just ignore that."
"What is it?" Adanji said, then added hastily, "If you don't mind me asking."
"It's alrigh'," he said, grinning knowingly, "You're in the Foreign Quarter. We don' mind answerin' questions. Jus' be careful in other cantons. Anyway." He nodded toward the rock, "That there's the Ministry o' Truth. Local superstition has it the god Vivec stopped the 'moon', Baar Dau, from crashin' into the city and that it's the people's faith that keeps it sus…susp—uhh, hangin' there."
She quirked a brow, "Do you believe that?"
"Eh. I don' believe in Vivec's divinity, or nothin', but you can't deny he's got power. After all, somethin' had to stop that thing. Whatever it was, I sure hope the magic doesn' wear off or nothin'. If that thing falls, it could be cataton… catast… terrible!"
"Why didn't Vivec just—you know—slow its fall? Lower it gently so he doesn't have to worry about it? Seems like it would be a waste of his energy to keep it in the sky. Also seems dangerous, like you said."
"Yeah, 'specially since the Tribunal's supposed to be keepin' the Ghost Fence up an' runnin', 'mong other things. Quite curious, indeedy." The Imperial shrugged, pointed out a man in a full set of gold-plated armor and a mask with a dour visage, and lowered his voice. "Best not to get into that, though. Locals catch you speakin' ill of their Tribunal, you might just up an' disappear. See him? He's an Ordinator. If you aren' a local Dunmer it's best to steer clear an' keep any talk of conspiracies to yourself."
Adanji nodded as the Imperial continued about his business, eyeing the Ministry of Truth a moment longer. She remembered Caius telling her about the Temple sending people with 'soul sickness' up there, either for healing or for silencing, depending on who you believed. Given recent events, Adanji was more inclined to believe the latter. Why had she heard nothing of Dralosa Athren returning to Balmora, if the Temple really could cure the so-called sickness? Surely it would have popped up somewhere in the rumor mill.
She shivered, and returned to wandering about the city. She realized she had no clue about where she was going. She had occasionally had trouble finding her way in the Imperial City. If she could get lost in her own home, what chance did she have here? Certainly the banners were helpful, but there were plenty she did not recognize, and she had heard that parts of the cantons were built like a maze. She peered around for the friendly Imperial, and saw that he had disappeared into the crowd. For all she knew, he'd gone home.
She supposed she could just ask around for directions—the Imperial had said she was in a friendly district. She scanned the crowd frantically, unsure of who might talk to her in the bustling street, and pushed herself against the canton wall, out of the way. Caius had said Huleeya should be in the Foreign Quarter. Adanji was in the right place, she just needed to find the Black Shalk Cornerclub. Taking a deep breath, she weaved through the crowd and approached the nearest stall. It was piled high with fish, clams, crab meat, and what appeared to be dreugh claws and tentacles, with a price tag high enough she assumed it could be nothing else.
"Yes, sir, can I help yeh?" the Bosmer merchant said when he finished with his customer.
"I'm a woman," Adanji growled.
"Oh—right, the… the hips an'—an' the voice. Very feline—feminine. Yes," he said, ogling her, "But…" His gaze lingered on her flat chest.
Adanji glared. She was perfectly aware of her appearance and she didn't need an assessment from a stranger.
"S-sorry, ma'am, 'm very tired. Long day an' all that. C-can I help yeh? Please? W-would ya like some fish?"
"Black Shalk Cornerclub," she snapped, "Where is it?"
"Ah! Y-yes, you'll need to go up one of the Northern ramps. That'll getcha to the upper level of the Lower Waistworks. Enter the large door on yer left and yeh should be facin' a balcony in a large room. Past some merchants and apartments, there'll be a hall to yer left. Follow that all the way to the end and you'll see a sign with a shalk on it—again, on the left. That'll be the cornerclub. Nice enough barkeep, but he'll let just about anyone in. That includes the occasional thug, so b-be on the lookout." He glanced at her armor and her weapon, "N-not thatcha can't lookafteryerself," he said quickly. "Anything else I can help ya with, m-ma'am?"
She supposed she shouldn't bully the poor merchant. As rude as he may have seemed initially, it had been an honest mistake and he was being helpful. She forced a smile, "No. Thank you, that's all I needed."
The Black Shalk Cornerclub was bigger than Adanji had anticipated when she had opened the door. A spacious room, it was filled with warm light and pleasant aromas. Tapestries of various shapes and sizes in brilliant colors lined the walls and a number of round, redwood tables and padded stools were scattered about the place, clearly set up for conversation. Given the time of day, there weren't many people there. Specifically, Adanji noticed that there was a distinct lack of Argonians.
The publican smiled as Adanji approached the bar. "What can I do for you, Khajiit?"
"Do you have any rooms?"
"You're in luck—I have one room available at the modest price of fifteen Septims a night."
Adanji handed him the coin. "I might be staying a while," she said, "I'm not sure how long my business here will take."
He nodded. "Need some food, then? Drink? I can tell you a bit about the city, if you like. It's a big place—even the locals get lost sometimes."
"How much will that cost me?"
"Aha! Seems you understand how things work around here." He grinned, "Five septims and I'll answer anything—thank you. What do you want to know?"
"Alright. Tell me about the layout of the city. What are the cantons like?"
"Oh, that'll take some time to explain. Hope your memory's good." He took a deep breath, "There are three bridges in and out of the city proper…" He then detailed the exact layout of the city, canton for canton, and gave simple directions to places nearby, such as the Imperial outpost, Ebonheart. Adanji sketched a rough map on the back of a note from her satchel as he spoke. "I'd suggest you stay north of the Saints," he concluded, "St. Delyn and St. Olms are poor districts and unfriendly places, and the Temple's worse. Nobody has business with Vivec, so you'll never have any reason to be in the palace. That's the huge, fancy pyramid south of the temple."
Adanji nodded. It seemed people enjoyed warning her away from places after she had already been ordered to go to them. It also seemed this only happened in service to the Empire. She took a moment to study her poorly-drawn map before folding it up and putting it away.
"What brings you to Vivec City?"
"Oh, I'm new around here," Adanji said, "Fresh off the boat, if you will, and everyone tells me Vivec is a beautiful city, full of opportunity. I wanted to see if that's true."
"Aha! A freelancer, are you? Heh. No idea why you'd come to Morrowind for work. If my wife didn't love it here so much, I'd insist on going back to Anvil!"
"You're from Cyrodiil?" Adanji said, surprised.
"Not all Dunmer are locals, you know, as said locals are more than happy to point out. At every opportunity. They just love letting us know how unwelcome we are—how we betrayed our blood because we just happened to be born outside of Morrowind," he said bitterly, "Er—anyway. I make a decent living here, and as I said, the wife thinks Vivec is just wonderful. Has an alchemy shop here, she does. Well, it's more a glorified flower shop, but she has proper business sense. You tell people your flowers can be used in a potion to cure diseases or heal wounds and they'll pay ten times as much for them." He shook his head suddenly, "I'm sorry, we were talking about you, weren't we?"
"It's ok, I really don't mind." The less they talked about her, the less she would have to lie.
"That's mighty gracious of you. My name's Raril, by the by." He tilted his head thoughtfully, "You want a start here, there's plenty needs doing in the Foreign Quarter. You might also try joining the Houses or fighting in the arena…" Their conversation continued for hours, until people started filing in and he had to see to his other customers.
Adanji watched people come and go in silence as she ate her nix-hound and ash yam stew. Though the place was now crowded, she had yet to see any Argonians, save one female, and Huleeya was a man. She knew she had at least a week to find him, according to Caius, but she still felt impatient and a little bit anxious. She was going to have to keep up her cover story if she planned on staying here, which meant she would have to at least give the pretense of job-hunting. It also meant she would have to be careful how she went about asking people for information on the informants, but that was a given.
She kept her vigil for another hour, getting a discreet peek at every customer that came and went until the cornerclub was once again nearly empty. With no sign of Huleeya, Adanji decided it was getting late and departed to her room. While her day hadn't been particularly busy beyond the silt strider ride, her limbs felt heavy and her eyes burned with exhaustion. She enjoyed the privacy, happy to peel off her armor and clothing and throw herself naked into the pillows, drawing the heavy covers up over her ears. In an instant, she was out.
Deciding Huleeya would likely visit the Black Shalk during later hours, Adanji left to explore the city bright and early, paying Raril in advance for another night in her room. The streets were less crowded this time of the day, the only activity coming from merchants setting up shop or cleaning old produce from their stands. For the first time in what felt like ages, it was bright and sunny out, a warm breeze blowing in from the south tickling Adanji's fur. Though she doubted it, she hoped it was a sign of good things to come.
It was almost noon by the time she reached St. Olms, though she had taken her time, enjoying the sun. The canton was flanked by massive statues of Dunmeri saints, casting the inhabitants in shadow. Fresco paintings adorned the walls, telling the tales of the saints; stories of hope—a great contrast to the tale told in the streets below.
The grim atmosphere of the place contrasted the warmth of the sun, almost immediately dampening her spirits. There were cripples and sick people lining the walls, sprawled out on thin bedrolls, bowls set out beside them for donations that might never come. Sunken, hopeless eyes followed her as she picked her way towards the entrance of the St. Olms Waistworks, staring hungrily at her satchel, which she instinctively drew to her chest. It wasn't that she didn't want to help them. After all, she had been in their shoes not so long ago, but she simply didn't have enough for everyone and was afraid that if she gave one beggar some coin she would be mobbed.
Things were better inside, though only marginally, and Adanji still stuck out like a sore thumb. Here, at least, there were some shops. A Khajiit hawked simple jewelry made of painted clay beads. Other, similar shops, filled with handmade baubles were set up here and there, near stacks of crates and barrels. An Orc strummed halfheartedly at a lute, gesturing occasionally toward a basket at his feet. Two Temple priests made their rounds, handing out miniscule amounts of food to the beggars. Adanji couldn't help but wonder why the priests weren't outside, helping the sick instead. Wasn't that what the Temple was supposed to do?
"You, there! Khajiit!"
Adanji turned. She was surprised she hadn't noticed this man before; he was the only person in sight who seemed like he did not belong. His vibrant, gold-trimmed clothing was obviously expensive and his fingers glittered with too-many rings. A bulging purse hung at his side. She could easily make out the drakes pressing circular lines into the leather. Despite his obvious wealth, he had a sour countenance. His face was screwed up in disgust and his nose wrinkled, like he smelled dung.
"Yes, you." He had a nasally sort of voice, as if he were sick, "You Khajiit stick together like a school of slaughterfish. You wouldn't happen to know where to find Addhiranirr, would you?"
Adanji gawked at him in disbelief. Was he genuinely that ignorant? Ignoring the blatant racism, it wasn't exactly prudent to insult someone before asking for their help, and he clearly had money. Why didn't he pay off one of the many desperate souls here for the information? "Who's asking?"
"Ugh. I don't have time for this. Look. It's very important. Why don't you tell me what you know so I can be on my way?"
"What is in it for poor Najjan?" Adanji said coolly, donning her fake Khajiiti accent, "The human has a fat purse, there..."
"Excuse me? Do you have any idea who you're talking to? This money belongs to the Empire!" he said, waving his coin purse around wildly, the coins jangling loudly inside it drawing stares from the whole quarter. "I simply cannot afford to pay off beggars, especially when Addhiranirr already owes—" He cut himself off.
Ah. A tax collector, then? If Addhiranirr owed him money, that would explain why she was hiding. "You work for the Empire?" She gasped, "Why didn't you say so?" She leaned in conspiratorially, "Najjan has a problem with some guards in the mainland, yes? What say her friend who is so big and powerful in the Empire helps her out? What say her friend puts in a good word for Najjan? Then Najjan will be glad to tell the friendly agent of the Empire what she knows." She knew tax collectors didn't actually have any influence, but he didn't have to know she knew.
He grinned, taking the bait, "Alright, er… Najjan, was it? I'll be happy to give your name to the guards when I return to the mainland."
She feigned excitement, putting on a large, innocent grin, "Najjan will be free, then?"
He nodded, "Yes, yes, you'll be, um… free. Now tell me where Addhiranirr is."
"Najjan saw her friend Addhiranirr this morning. Her friend tells Najjan she must hide, though she does not tell Najjan why. Then Najjan saw her friend Addhiranirr boarding a ship not an hour ago. Najjan thinks she saw the ship heading south."
"South?" the tax collector said, "Of course! She must think she'll be able to give me the slip in the mainland. Well, she won't be able to hide from me! Thank you, Najjan. You've been a big help. I promise when I return to the mainland I will put in a good word for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a boat to catch." With that, he was gone.
Adanji smiled to herself. That had been easier than she'd thought. Now she just had to find out where Addhiranirr was really hiding. She hoped she hadn't accidentally pointed the tax collector in the right direction, though she doubted it. If the Khajiit had information for Caius, it was unlikely she would leave.
Placing a hand on her coin purse, Adanji approached a merchant at one of the stalls. He was busily threading a piece of twine through teal beads and didn't seem to notice her. "Excuse me," she said, drawing his attention, "Have you seen a Khajiit by the name of Addhiranirr around here?"
The merchant cocked a brow at her, "Addhiranirr? Seems she has friends everywhere. There were a man in fancy clothes come by, earlier, asking around for her all this morning. Very loud. All that money, though, and he were too stingy to spare a single coin for the information."
"Yes, I took care of him." Adanji said.
He grunted, "That's nice. I'd be sorry to see all that coin go, but, as I said; he weren't interested in sharing."
"He may not have been, but I am." Adanji pulled out a few coins, passing them as discreetly as she could across the counter, but leaving her hand firmly on top of them, "If you can tell me what I need to know."
He glanced down at her hand. "How much?"
"That should be around fifteen septims, by my estimate."
"Ten more, and my family can eat good, tonight."
She nodded, adding the coin to the pile, "Addhiranirr?"
"I saw her sneaking 'round yesterday. She looked like she were heading for the Underworks."
"Thanks." Adanji removed her hands, allowing him to scoop the pile into his strongbox.
"Mm-hmm."
The Underworks was the lowest tier of the canton, set right at water-level, and served as the city sewers. Adanji assumed they must flood at high tide, given the water stains along the walls. The stench here was almost unbearable. No wonder Addhiranirr's hiding here. That poncy tax collector wouldn't set foot in such a place.
Up ahead, she saw a shadowy figure disappear around a corner.
"Addhiranirr?" she said.
"Sss! Go away."
Adanji ignored her, instead walking right up to the Khajiit, slowly and with her hands raised to show she was unarmed and meant no harm. "Caius sent me. I'm supposed to talk to you."
"Is that so?" She bristled, "So, Caius tells you, 'Speak to Addhiranirr,' and you have done this thing. Good job," she said sarcastically, "Now go away. Addhiranirr does not wish to talk to you right now, and because why? Because Addhiranirr is, at this moment, distracted by a very nice Census and Excise agent who also wants to speak to her." She shifted on her feet, as though she was about to retreat.
"Wait! I took care of him."
She stopped, giving Adanji her full attention. "You did?"
Adanji nodded, "I told him you went to the mainland. He should be getting on a boat there, soon."
"Huh. This is a clever trick." Addhiranirr suddenly smiled, her fur lying flat. "Now Addhiranirr can leave the sewers. She was getting tired of the smell. Indeed, you have done Addhiranirr a good service, and now she is very pleased to be helping her friend in any way she can, especially if it makes Caius happy."
"Good," Adanji said, "Caius wants to know about the Sixth House and Nerevarine cults."
"Yes, of course. Addhiranirr knows nothing about this Nerevarine cult, because it is just silly superstition. So you tell Caius this. Nobody in her right mind pays any attention to this nonsense. Prophecies and ancient heroes reborn and other silliness—bah! Fuzzy tales for little kitties." She waved her hand dismissively, "Now, this Sixth House cult, this is something Addhiranirr knows about, because it is about smuggling. Some smart smugglers are suddenly too busy for their old clients, because they have a new employer, the Sixth House, who pays very well. But what do they smuggle now? Addhiranirr doesn't know, because they are very secret. This is odd, because these smugglers are always loud and bragging, and now they hush up like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats."
"That's it? No hint as to what they're doing?"
Addhiranirr shook her head firmly, "None, and Addhiranirr pays very close attention to these things, so she should know. Smuggling is big business, you see. Addhiranirr can tell you one thing, though. Whatever they are smuggling must be very bad. Very dangerous."
Adanji was noticing a pattern. Every time she asked a question, the answer only left her with more questions. It felt like an endless cycle. When she left the sewers her mind was buzzing with so many conspiracies she almost didn't notice the shift of weight in her bag. She jerked out of her daze and saw a youth darting away with her coin purse. "Hey!" She darted off after him, all other worries, for the moment, gone. "Get back here!"
The boy shoved through the crowded streets, weaving through a tight throng of people, and Adanji was sure she was about to lose him. As she rounded a corner she was shocked at what she saw. A lean elf with a long, loose blonde ponytail had caught the child and was admonishing him as he took the coin purse.
"Arathor?!"
The Bosmer caught her eye and smirked. "I really am getting tired of fetching your junk for you, you know."
"What on Nirn are you doing here?"
"Habasi sent me to look after you." He let the boy run off as he tossed Adanji her coin purse.
She frowned. "Doesn't she trust me?"
"I think so." He shrugged. "I don't know why she wouldn't. I think she just wants you to be safe. She told me to help with your assignment."
"Oh… really?" Her heart sank. How was she supposed to get information for Caius without Arathor finding out her secret? "What did she tell you about it?"
"Nothing. She told me you would fill me in."
Great. At least she could make something up. "Well, I'm staying at the Black Shalk Cornerclub. Meet me there and I'll tell you all about it, then."
"Meet you there? Not a chance!" He jabbed her in the side with a playful elbow, "I'm going with you. It's a pretty sorry thief who gets her pockets picked, after all. If I don't watch you, you might get conned, or spill all your gold into the sea! And that would be just terrible."
Adanji sighed heavily. "I don't suppose I'll ever live this down?"
"Not a chance."
"Of course. Come on, then..." They continued their trek in relative silence, giving her time to make up a story. It bothered her that Habasi sent Arathor to spy on her. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, she thought. Habasi seemed to be having issues trusting people, judging by her drunken rant, and she had just learned Adanji was with the Blades. That didn't make the situation any less annoying, however.
"Adanji." She froze. That voice. She and Arathor turned to see a Dunmer, his empty eyes fixed solely, unblinkingly, on Adanji. "I am a sleeper. One among many."
Arathor cursed, putting a hand protectively on Adanji's shoulder. She didn't move. She felt rooted to the spot and her fur began to rise. The Dunmer kept talking in that hollow, lifeless voice. The nearby crowd began to stare, backing away in horror. "Not again," someone whispered. "Someone call the guards!"
"Your Lord Dagoth Ur calls to you. The great and true Lord has a message for you. A warning. Leave Morrowind. Spread the word that Dagoth Ur is Lord. That he is coming and will drive the n'wah from the land! The outlanders will leave or they will perish. Resdayn will be restored its rightful owners."
"Yeah?" Arathor growled, "Well my great and true fist has a message for your face!" He rushed the Dunmer, punching him across the jaw. Before the sleeper could recover, Arathor grabbed Adanji by the wrist and pulled her away. "Come on, Adanji, let's get out of here! Hurry!" The crowd parted, letting them pass just as an Ordinator approached from the opposite direction, drawn by the chaos. They didn't stop running until they were in the safety of Black Shalk.
"So…" Arathor started after they had a minute to catch their breath, "That was… unsettling."
"And that was an understatement." Adanji sat at a table in the corner and motioned to Raril to bring two drinks.
"You know, I've encountered those 'sleepers' before, but they've never used my name," Arathor said, twirling a lock of hair between his fingers. "They just called me 'Outlander.' Did you know that one?"
"No," Adanji said, drumming her claws on the polished surface of their table, "I've never even seen him."
"Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever heard of a sleeper calling anyone by name. That's..."
"Unsettling?" she said with a wry smile.
"Understatement."
She had to agree. What could it mean if the Sixth House or the Sleepers or whoever was interested in her? Could it have something to do with the reason the Emperor had sent her here? She had no answers, but every possibility racked her nerves.
"Have a good day in our city, ma'am?" Raril asked as he set down the bottles of flin, placing empty glass mugs beside them. "I'm guessing not," he said when he noticed her expression. "Locals give you trouble?"
"You could say that." Adanji gratefully took a deep drink of flin, relaxing as the warmth spread through her limbs, "No luck finding that job, either."
"Well, I'm sure you'll have better luck tomorrow. Who's this?"
"A friend. He valiantly saved me from a pickpocket." She smirked inwardly, catching Arathor's eye. He had not missed her sarcasm.
"Saved you from a pickpocket, eh?" Raril scrutinized the Bosmer suspiciously, "Well, I'd be careful of charity from strangers, 'round here. This Bosmer might've had a hand in that theft and played the hero so he could get something more out of you."
"Excuse me?!" Arathor sputtered, face turning red, "That's—"
"I'm just pickin'," Raril said, then leaned in to Adanji, "But seriously. If this man gives you trouble, now, you let me know." He strolled off, whistling to himself.
"What was that all about? Who does he think he is?"
Adanji shrugged, trying to hide her smile and failing miserably. "We had a long chat yesterday. I guess he took a liking to me."
"Mmhmm..." He lowered his voice, "That's a nice cover story, by the way. Traveler looking for work? Oldest trick in the book." Adanji wasn't sure if he was being serious or not, so she said nothing. "So. Speaking of work, what's this job Habasi has us on?"
"Has me on," Adanji corrected, "She wanted me to look into the Camonna Tong."
"Really?" he said incredulously, "Seems more like work for someone else. Someone of higher rank."
"It's just information gathering, that's all," she said quickly, "Habasi already set up the informants, too. I just have to talk to them. She's seen some strange patterns and wants to make sure the Camonna Tong isn't involved."
"Alright, so what sort of patterns are these?"
Adanji had to work hard to keep her exasperation in check. If Arathor was going to follow her around he would likely hear something about the Nerevarine and Sixth House. He had to expect it, but Adanji had a feeling he wouldn't accept it. "All these disappearances? The attacks on outlanders? Habasi thinks it reeks of the Camonna Tong, but she's heard whispers about local superstition. She wants to make sure the Camonna Tong isn't working with cultists."
"Cultists?"
She hesitated. "The Sixth House and Nerevarine cults both hate outlanders at least as much as the Camonna Tong. She wants information on both groups in case they're in cahoots with them. They might make dangerous enemies." That was true enough, at least. The best lies, after all, were hidden bits of truth.
He stared at her unblinkingly, as if that might allow him to burrow into her head and read her thoughts. It was all she could do not to shift under his gaze. Finally, he relented. "I don't see why she's wasting her time with this nonsense, but if that's our job..."
"I know," she said, attempting to assuage his concerns, "I don't understand it, either, but I trust Habasi." Even if it seems like she doesn't trust me.
"Why did you pick this place?" Arathor said the next day when Adanji woke. He had been waiting outside her door, loitering against the wall and startling her as soon as she left her room. She wondered how long he'd been up.
"Beg pardon?"
"The Black Shalk. It's completely dull. No dancing girls, no friendly games of Nine-holes, and it smells far too clean. In fact, I don't think one person has smoked a skooma pipe in here since the city was built. And you, insisting on having your own room? It's not like you don't share a room with an entire guild every night anyway."
Adanji rolled her eyes. "You just wanted a free bed. Anyway, I happen to like the change of scenery, and I think it's nice to be alone sometimes." She wondered why Arathor had even mentioned the dancing girls. He hadn't been paying much attention to them, since Chirranirr's death. She kept that thought to herself.
He heaved an over-dramatic sigh, "If you insist. Just promise you aren't going all respectable on me?"
"Me? Respectable?" She grinned, "Never."
Adanji had tried to get rid of Arathor after breakfast. She had told him how she could take care of herself, how the information she was gathering really wasn't all that important, and had even tried to convince him how very boring the library would be, but he had refused to listen. "Habasi wanted me to help you," he had said with a note of finality, "So I'm going to help."
The walk to the Temple canton had been long and Arathor hadn't shut his mouth once until he saw the Ordinators at the doors, glaring at him from behind their cold masks. "You'd think they've never heard of humor," he whispered into Adanji's ear as they neared.
"Shh!" She was feeling uneasy enough just being swallowed up by Baar Dau's great shadow; she didn't need any reason for conflict with the guards. She smiled at the Ordinator as he moved to stop them, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
"What do you want, scum?"
"I'm sorry." She worked to keep her voice even, despite his hostile greeting, "I heard the library is open to everyone? Was I wrong?"
"No. Unfortunately."
"Then may we go in?"
She was certain he was sneering under those expressionless golden lips. "Go. Do not cause trouble or we will gladly exact justice. Now move along."
She was thrilled to be away from the Ordinator's leery stare as they entered the Hall of Justice, where the library was located, but the relief was short-lived. It was full of Ordinators. Arathor mercifully kept his mouth shut as he followed her. Remembering Caius' instructions, she had warned him not to draw attention to them or to Mehra Milo, and he seemed willing enough to comply to those wishes, now.
She tried to look natural as she browsed bookshelves, occasionally picking something up to skim through, before gingerly putting it back on its shelf. Finally, at the end of an aisle, she saw Mehra's copper hair. Seeing no one else, she approached her. "Mehra?" she hissed.
Mehra nodded, "Can I help you?"
"Yes. I was doing some research on the various schools of magic, you see. I'd like to join the Mages Guild and want to educate myself, but I don't know where to start. Do you have any books you could recommend?" 'Caius sent me,' she mouthed so Arathor couldn't hear or see from his position behind her. 'The Bosmer isn't with me.'
Mehra stared a moment, gaze shifting between Adanji and Arathor, then nodded again, "Yes, Outlander, I have just the thing. Follow me." She held up a hand to stop Arathor, "Only the Khajiit," she murmured. Arathor glowered, but held his tongue, apparently remembering not to make a scene. He returned to browsing the many books as Mehra led Adanji to a back room. Once they were alone, she spoke, "You're the one Caius sent?"
"Yes." Adanji said quietly, in case an Ordinator walked by, "He wanted to know about the Sixth House and the Nerevarine Cult."
"I'm afraid I know nothing about the former," Mehra said, "But I know a good deal about the latter."
Adanji pulled a slip of parchment from her pack, ready to jot down notes. "Please tell me everything you know."
"Ready? Alright… The Temple worships Nerevar as a saint and hero," Mehra began, "But prophecies of his reincarnation are punished as wicked heresy. The Nerevarine cult claims the Tribunal are false gods, hence the Temple's persecution of the Nerevarine cult. A group called the Dissident Priests disputes Temple doctrine on the Nerevarine prophecies. The proscribed book 'Progress of Truth' describes their beliefs. Get a copy of the book for Caius Cosades. It will tell him things he needs to know about the Nerevarine cult."
Adanji jolted down Progress of Truth in the upper left corner of her notes, underlining it twice. "What are the Dissident Priests?"
"They dispute Temple doctrine, and are outlawed and persecuted by the Temple. Ordinators arrest and imprison heretics, and the Empire cannot interfere. In brief, the Dissidents challenge the purity and divinity of the Tribunal, suggesting their powers are sorcerous, not divine, and perhaps akin to the powers of Dagoth Ur. They also condemn the arbitrary power of the Ordinators, and accuse the Temple hierarchy of self-interest and corruption."
"I suppose that explains why the Temple persecutes them."
She nodded grimly, "But there's more to it than that. Their attacks on the Temple weaken the faith, and leave the people defenseless against the influence of Dagoth Ur. Faith is what strengthens the will of the believer against Dagoth Ur's lies. Faith is the source of the divine power that sustains the Tribunal in their battle with Dagoth Ur. Since the Empire invaded, some Dunmer have turned away from the Temple; that's why Dagoth Ur grows stronger, why blight storms and monsters threaten the land."
Despite the general insistence that this was all superstitious nonsense, small shiver ran down Adanji's spine. She ignored it, jotting down the last of her notes. "Is there anything else?"
"Nothing important. Remember to find a copy of Progress of Truth. The Temple has outlawed the sale or possession of the book, so it'll be hard to find. We have a copy here, but I fear I'm being watched by the Ordinators here, so I can't give it to you. A safer plan would be to search local booksellers. Some ignore Temple bans on outlawed books for profits, or for principles."
"Wait, back up. You're being watched? Why?"
Mehra sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest. "I do not care for Temple politics, but I have read Progress of Truth, and it troubles me. I have friends—former priests—who have gone into hiding, so I am bound to come to the attention of the Ordinators. I am careful, but I'm afraid. I'm no secret agent, like you or Caius. Sooner or later I, too, must go into hiding. If it is not too late..." She shuddered. "When you return to Caius, tell him I am worried, and that if something goes wrong, I will leave a message under the agreed code word 'amaya'."
Adanji nodded, scribbling down 'amaya' under 'Progress of Truth,' and stuffing the note into the bottom of her pack, well out of sight. "You seem to trust Caius a lot," she said. "Don't get me wrong, he seems honorable enough, but I didn't expect a Temple priestess would trust any outlander."
"I understand your confusion," she said, "But Caius is a dear friend. Like me, he admires the best traditions of the Temple; charity for the poor, education for the ignorant, protection for the weak. He is a Westerner, but he has come to love our land and our people. But like me, he distrusts the arbitrary power of the Ordinators, and like the Dissident priests, he suspects the Temple is hiding something. He sees the failing virtues of the Temple as a threat to Morrowind's political stability." She glanced around nervously, lowering her voice as an Ordinator passed them by. "Please, I have told you everything. You must leave before they get too suspicious."
She nodded. "Don't worry, I'll get your message to Caius. Be careful, and thanks for the information."
Adanji found Arathor where she had left him, reading Sermon Fourteen of The 36 Lessons of Vivec with acute interest. "You should read this," he whispered, "Vivec gets up to some crazy stuff. I mean, you'll never guess what he's doing with Malog Bal! I'll give you a hint; there's lots of polishing and biting of spears."
Adanji shook her head, "Later. Come on, we're leaving."
"Aw, so soon? You said it would be boring here, but I think—ow!" She cuffed him over the head, "Alright, alright, fine."
"Sorry," she whispered, "I'd just rather be out of here as soon as possible."
"Did you get what Habasi wanted?" he hissed.
"Yes."
She could feel the eyes of Ordinators burning into their backs as they left.
"So what was that all about?" Arathor said when they were out of earshot.
"What?"
"Your informant refusing to speak with me?"
"Oh. That. I think she was told to expect one person, not two. Since she expected a Khajiit..." She trailed off, letting Arathor connect the dots himself.
He nodded. "Alright. Well, did you at least find out anything useful?"
"Not particularly," she lied, "You were right, it's just nonsense. The Nerevarine isn't real and the cult is nothing more than a bunch of savages. A complete waste of time."
"Uh-huh. So why did we have to rush out of there?"
"The Ordinators were getting suspicious. I don't like them."
"Yeah… I guess that's fair."
"Good." She elbowed him playfully in the ribs, "Come on, it's getting late and I'm starving!"
The Black Shalk cornerclub was bustling with activity when they returned, several drunks talking loudly over the din. A Nord was rambling about how she had earned a small fortune in the arena, only to lose it all gambling. A Bosmer was complaining about his nagging shrew of a wife. An Orc boasted proudly of his daughter becoming a smith, and how she would one day run his shop. None of the gossip concerned Argonians or cults. Adanji was just about to sit down when she heard a commotion to her right.
"Well, well! What 'ave we got, 'ere?"
"Looks like a filthy lizard, boss."
Lizard? Adanji cast about for the source of the voices and saw, in the far corner, a black-scaled Argonian in light leather armor being surrounded by three Dunmer with profoundly vague expressions. She had a sneaking suspicion that the Argonian was her informant. She tried to catch Raril's eye, hoping he might do something, but he was studiously scrubbing at a non-existent stain on his counter, pointedly ignoring the ruffians.
Adanji frowned, disappointed, and cautiously approached the small group, her mind reeling. Normally, she wouldn't get involved, but if this was indeed Huleeya…
"My boys here don't like you," she heard the squat Dunmer sneer. He must be the ringleader.
"So sorry," the Argonian hissed sarcastically. He seemed unusually calm. Adanji glanced between the three of them, noting they weren't armed, and relaxed a little.
"I don't like you, either," the squat one persisted.
"Yes, well, I'd love to help you with that problem, but I simply don't have the time to cure every imbecile in the world of their bigotry."
"Whas' with all them big words? Yer jus' askin' fer trouble, aren't ya?" said the tallest one who closely resembled a mountain.
"Maybe you should leave," spat the ringleader.
"Yeah. Yer not welcome here."
"Oh really?" the Argonian said, drawing himself up and placing a hand on the hilt of his blade. "See, in case you weren't aware, we're in the Foreign Quarter. Since pretty much every non-Dunmeri race is, by your rather broad definition, a Foreigner, I'd say I'm more than welcome. Maybe you're the ones who should leave."
"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" Adanji said just as the ringleader looked ready to strike. She tried to puff out her chest to look imposing and felt like a complete idiot as she did so. The four spun around and gawked at her, the mountain of an elf guffawing as if he thought a scrawny Khajiit wouldn't pose much of a threat.
"You could say that. I was going about my business when I was accosted by these troublesome fools," the Argonian said, "They have harassed me before and I do not think I will have peace for some time."
"Hey! Who're ya callin' fools?!"
"Hold on," Arathor muttered as the Dunmeri returned to their bullying, "I've got this."
"What are you—" Her jaw dropped in disbelief as she saw Arathor approaching an enormous, besotted Orc from behind, lift a chair, and break it over his head. The pub went deathly quiet. Even the three Dunmer thugs turned to watch. The Orc stood, hands balled into fists, and rounded on Arathor.
"Er—I didn't do it!" Arathor said quickly, hiding bits of broken stool behind his back, "They made me! The Dark Elves! It was their idea!" He pointed desperately to the three Dunmer, who began to back away slowly. The Orc growled at Arathor, knocking him out with a single backhand before bull-rushing the unfortunate thugs.
"BAR FIGHT!" a drunken patron screamed. It was all downhill from there.
"B'veck!" Raril cursed, the color draining from his face as he ducked down behind his bar. The cornerclub exploded into the raucous of fist and bottle hitting flesh and bone, nearly drowned out by drunken shouting and wild threats.
"I think they're distracted!" Adanji shouted to the Argonian.
"I'd say so," he replied. Adanji ducked and weaved through the crowd, grunting as she caught a fist in the arm, grabbed Arathor and dragged him down to her room with the Argonian's help. He had done something incredibly stupid, but he was her friend and she couldn't just leave him to get trampled on.
"You sure your friend will be ok?" the Argonian asked as they exited out the back.
"Yeah, he'll be fine," Adanji said. "So, I have to ask. Why didn't you just kill those three? They weren't armed. It would have been easy."
"My code forbids it," he said, all but confirming Adanji's suspicion. "I cannot kill without a writ, unless I am attacked first. Those fools know it, too, and assault me only with words. Thanks for the help, by the way."
"It's no trouble, Huleeya, though I think you owe your thanks to Arathor." She turned, cocking her head, "You are Huleeya, right?"
"That is correct. Am I to assume you've been looking for me?"
"Yes. Caius sent me."
"Ah, so you're the one? Unexpected. Come, we will go to my friend Jobasha's bookstore. There, we can talk in private."
Jobasha's Rare Books was on the other side of the canton, and up some stairs. Though a 'closed' sign hung on the door, it wasn't locked. When they entered, the first thing Adanji noticed was the subtly pleasant scent of leather and old parchment, as well as pine and dust. It reminded her of First Edition, back in the Imperial City.
"Yes," Huleeya said as he closed the door behind them, "We should be free from distraction here. What are your questions?"
Adanji asked about the cults.
"I can tell you about the Nerevarine and his cult, but I have no information on the Sixth House." Adanji had come to expect an answer like that.
"Alright," she said, "So what can you tell me about the Nerevarine?" The question was getting so old to her, it felt like some boring, daily routine. However, she knew the answer was important, so she paid attention, hoping to learn something new.
"To understand the Nerevarine cult, you must understand the history of the Ashlanders. Nerevar means something very different to the Ashlanders from what he means to Dunmer of the Great Houses. You should also know about the persecution of the Nerevarine, and the legacy of the False Incarnate, for the Nerevarine cult is at the heart of the ancient conflict between the nomadic Ashlanders and the settled Great House Dunmer. Here is a summary for Caius, but ask your questions, and I'll answer in detail."
Adanji took his summary, written in elegant hand, skimming over its contents.
'The History of the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine Cult
In First Era barbaric Dunmer culture, settled Dunmer clans (the Great Houses) and nomadic Dunmer tribes (like the Ashlanders) were roughly equal in numbers and wealth. Under the civilized peace of the Grand Council, and with the strong central authority of the Temple, the economic and military power of the settled Dunmer quickly outstripped that of the nomadic Dunmer. The nomadic Dunmer were marginalized into the poorest, most hostile land. In particular, into the Vvardenfell wastes. For the Ashlanders, the return of a reincarnated Nerevar represents a longed for and largely romanticized Golden Age of Nerevar's Peace, when the nomadic tribes enjoyed equality with the settled Dunmer, and before the Dunmer people had for the most part abandoned traditional ancestor worship for the autocratic theocracy of the Tribunal Temple.
The Nerevar of the Ashlanders
This is the story of Nerevar as an Ashlander might tell it.
In ancient days, the Deep Elves (Dwemer) and a great host of outlanders from the West came to steal the land of the Dunmer. In that time, Nerevar was the great khan and warleader of the House People, but he honored the Ancient Spirits and the Tribal law, and became as one of us. So, when Nerevar pledged upon his great Ring of the Ancestors, One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star, to honor the ways of the Spirits and rights of the Land, all the Tribes joined the House People to fight a great battle at Red Mountain. Though many Dunmer, Tribesman and Houseman, died at Red Mountain, the Dwemer were defeated and their evil magicks destroyed, and the outlanders driven from the land. But after this great victory, the power-hungry khans of the Great Houses slew Nerevar in secret, and, setting themselves up as gods, neglected Nerevar's promises to the Tribes. But it is said that Nerevar will come again with his ring, and cast down the false gods, and by the power of his ring will make good his promises to the Tribes, to honor the Spirits and drive the outsiders from the land.
Persecution of the Nerevarine Cult
The Tribunal Temple regards the mysticism and prophecy of the Nerevarine cult as primitive superstition. The Ashlander Ancestor cults and the Nerevarines in particular have always decried the worship of living Dunmer as abominations, suspecting the unnatural lifetimes of the Tribunal to be signs of profane sorcery or necromancy. Though the authoritarian and intolerant Temple priesthood has always been inclined to tolerate Ashlander ancestor cult practices, they have always threatened Nerevarine claimants with death or imprisonment. And while generally tolerant of various cult worships, the Imperial Commission of the Occupation outlaws cults hostile to the Emperor and the Empire, and threatens members of such cults with imprisonment or death. The Ordinators are allowed a free hand when dealing with outlawed cults like the Nerevarines.
Peakstar and other Incarnates in the Past
In the past, others have claimed to be the reincarnated Nerevar of prophecy. The most recent is known as Peakstar, a mysterious figure who has reportedly appeared and disappeared among the Wastes tribes over the last 30 years. The Temple notes that these False Incarnates discredit the Nerevarine prophecies. Singularly, and illogically, the Ashlanders acknowledge a history of false claimants, calling them "Failed Incarnates," but they regard them as proof of the validity of the prophecies, rather than contradiction. Among the Nerevarines there is a fable of a Cavern of the Incarnates, where the spirits of the Failed Incarnates dwell. The Nerevarine cult is a mystical cult, and it glorifies, rather than shrinks from, contradictions.'
A Cavern of Incarnates? If it was real, maybe it was where Peakstar had gone, and why she had disappeared. Of course, Adanji thought, that was rubbish. Or at least highly unlikely. She was getting far too involved in all this. Between work and her nightmares, she must be losing her mind. "These are very detailed notes," Adanji said, "I'm not sure what else to ask you."
He seemed to appreciate that, "Yes. I do like to be thorough..."
"Who's up here?" a voice growled, making Adanji jump. A tawny-furred Khajiit in an ankle-length nightgown had slunk up behind them, a candlestick raised defensively over his head. He lowered it sheepishly when he saw Huleeya. "Ah—Huleeya, my friend." The purr in his voice suggested more than mere friendship, "It is good to see you. Who is your guest?" The Khajiit eyed Adanji suspiciously.
"This is…" Huleeya fumbled, gesturing in Adanji's direction.
"Adanji." She smiled. "Nice to meet you."
The Khajiit frowned, crossing his arms, his ears tilting back.
"She is a friend," Huleeya said, "Here for information."
"Ah. Any friend of Huleeya's is a friend of Jobasha. But the hour is late and my shop is closed. Unless you have an urgent need of something, Jobasha would humbly ask that you come back tomorrow."
"Actually, come to think of it," Adanji said, noting the walls lined with shelves stacked high with books both common and rare, "I need a copy of a book. One that Ordinators might not be so happy to see lying around in a shop, if you know what I mean?"
Jobasha's ears perked. "This one does have a, ah, private collection locked away in the back of his store. Precisely which book were you looking for?"
"Progress of Truth."
"Ah, the Ordinators would indeed be very displeased if Jobasha had such a book in the open." He smiled wryly, "It is very good you come after hours, then, when no Ordinators are stationed in my shop. Wait here."
He disappeared down the stairs and Adanji heard the shuffling of papers and books, the metallic sound of a key turning in several locks, and the creaking of rusty hinges as what must have been a hefty lid was lifted. More books were shuffled, followed by wood slamming on wood, the clicking of locks, paws padding up the stairs. Jobasha peered into the room, glancing about conspiratorially before approaching Adanji and handing her a worn, heavy leather tome. Chipped gold-leaf highlighted the inscribed words 'Progress of Truth' on the battered spine.
"Two hundred drakes," he said flatly.
"You can't go down at all? How about—"
"No. Jobasha does not haggle over rare items. Take the book at its current price, or leave it."
"Ok," Adanji said grudgingly. She supposed, given the book's reputation and its rarity, it could have been much worse. She counted out the coin and handed it to him, her purse feeling a great deal lighter.
"Good. It is a pleasure doing business with you. Better to have that book out of my home, at least." He smiled weakly as she slid it into her bag, running his claws through his mane. "You be careful not to let anyone catch you with it. I would rather not imagine what would happen to someone caught with that in their possession."
"I will," she promised. She had everything she needed. Now all she had to do was get some rest and she could depart for Balmora in the morning.
