Chapter Twelve

Concerning The Nature Of Espionage

Solon was freelancing.

It wasn't exactly in the contract, it was true. Morgiah hadn't openly given him leave to make inquiries she hadn't suggested. But he was in the mood for a little adventure, and he had a unique talent for getting people to talk – the sleeping potion was only one of his methods, and a last resort at that. Those talents were the reason the Princess had hired him, he reasoned. So as he wound his way through the teeming streets of Outer Almalexia, he headed for one of the most disreputable taverns he could think of – one that would be up to its rafters in Cammona Tong agents.

He had to admit that his motive was partly selfish. He had his own investigating to do; this business with Dren was weighing on his mind. For all he knew, there was a price on his head.

Above and around him, the towering mills of the Silk Quarter loomed over half-timbered buildings like admonishing masters over unfortunate pupils. There was always a crowd here. The main goods market filled the central plaza, and with different stalls opening at different times, the trade was all-hours. With the constant press of people came taverns, brothels, skooma-dens and Guild hideouts. There was no better place if you liked anonymity.

The faded sign of the Grieving Kagouti Inn loomed from under the eaves of a nearby house. Solon pulled his hood over his brow and pushed open the door.

It was dim. A candle stood on each table, but this was obviously a place where bright light was discouraged. Solon slid along the bar, ordered a glass of sujamma, and inspected the prospects of the room.

Along the main line of the bar the drinkers were loud and raucous. Three were genuinely blind drunk, but the fourth was faking – Solon could identify the tell-tale signs of over-slurring, the control of the mer's arms under the pretence of languor. He was obviously playing his companions for something. Certainly not the kind of situation Solon wanted to get involved in; he turned away. Various other groups were clustered around dingy tables lining the walls. Most were deep in discussion, but one Dunmer woman sat alone, and she was already eyeing him with interest.

He closed his eyes lazily, looking away – and then back, glancing at her through his eyelashes with a gaze that could have melted an iceberg.

She was hooked.

He reeled her in like a fish on a line, and she stood – this was the thing that fascinated him most; they always believed they were acting on their own initiative – and sauntered over, no doubt congratulating herself on her own show of careless confidence.

She slid into the adjacent seat. "Ser, I have not had the pleasure?"

"Dram Saryoni," Solon purred, shaking her outstretched hand. She was a flirt, and he responded accordingly, lingering on the formal touch for slightly longer than necessary. Her lips parted a fraction in anticipation.

"No relation to the Archcanon, I presume?" Her tone was throaty, teasing, pleasant to the ear. He might have liked to talk with her freely had circumstances been different.

"Unfortunately not. I hear he's a soft touch for a destitute nephew, or great nephew, or great great nephew – he's getting less good at hiding his age, no?"

The woman let out a flurry of laughter at this delightful bitchiness, her waterfall of copper curls gleaming in the candlelight. She herself was flawlessly free from blemish, though he judged her several decades older than him. Someone who liked vigour and youth, he surmised, and clung to it wherever she could. "Forgive me," she smiled. "I'm Felara Ules. Enchanted to meet you, Ser Saryoni."

"Dram, please," Solon insisted effortlessly, signing to the bartender to fill her glass. "And the enchantment is of course mine. Are you a visitor to Almalexia, or do you know it well?"

"Very well indeed." She sipped her drink. "In fact, I'm something of an expert. And what of yourself? How is it that I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before? We don't get many new faces in this dive."

Solon leaned back against the bar in a perfect simulation of nonchalance. "And why is that?" Hopefully it would be because this was Cammona Tong turf, and he could start buttering her up for information.

"Because they don't last long if they're not part of the club," Felara purred, suddenly sounding rather predatory. Solon was impressed. So she'd had a secondary motive for introducing herself – to scope out whether he was In, and presumably get rid of him if failed the test. Considering her obvious attraction to him, this dedication to duty was rather admirable.

"Well, it pleases my gentlemanly instincts to relieve you of such unpleasantness. I'm club through and through," he assured with a winning smile. "In fact, I've just arrived from the Ascadian Isles. Perhaps you can fill me in on the talk from the city?"

Felara relaxed, satisfied. 'Ascadian Isles' was, for anyone in the know, a reference to Dren's plantation. "I'd be delighted. But it's so crowded in here… why don't we head out?"

Solon looked at her gleaming curls, full lips, the spark of intelligence in her teasing gaze, and thought: why not? She was interesting, and Solon was always keen to explore an interesting personality.

He discarded his glass on the counter and angled his arm. She took it, and they stepped out into the night.

Morgiah was in her study, quill in hand, the lamps lit to a creamy glow by Kippet the maid. She had been trying somewhat unsuccessfully to gather her notes on the investigation, but her mind was stuck on her conversation with Helseth the previous evening.

When she'd seen his carriage approach from the window, a sudden flash of nostalgia had gripped her. For a moment she was plunged back into Wayrest, the only stable environment her extraordinary family had known, into the memory of the tentative comradeship she had shared with Helseth before everything had gone wrong. Without pausing to check herself, she had rushed to meet him.

The fantasy hit its first snag when she felt his animosity at her entrance. Whatever he had been doing, he clearly felt caught out. And then the invitation to dinner – it had popped out before she could stop it. What had she been thinking?

He had refused, of course. And the years of separation and distrust had broken through the charade, crashing down between them like an ironclad wall. In the back of her mind had been a wild hope that perhaps if they could talk on their own for an hour, he might confide whatever ill-advised scheme he was concocting and she could steer him away from it. He was her little brother. It was her job to mentor him, not spy on him.

Ridiculous, of course. They were not children any more, and this was not a game of jack-dice they were playing. It was a game of politics, of countries, of lives. Lives that could be lost.

She crushed the spike of disappointment in her chest and returned to her notes.

In the Great Bazaar of Mournhold, Gwynabyth and Eadwyrd were spending some of their newfound wealth at the best alchemist's in the city. With finally enough money for some real extravagances for research into their tonic, they had taken the opportunity at once.

"I'm so sure that water is the missing link," Gwynabyth declared passionately, rummaging through the sheaf of notes in her satchel. "All our findings point towards the sea. Fish, it has something to do with fish. Scales."

"There are a lot of different fish," Eadwyrd pointed out dryly. "How selective do you think we need to be?"

"Well, that's what we're here to find out." Gwynabyth managed to stuff the sheaf back into her satchel and began to scour the shelves. "Any marine ingredients – particularly ones that may have innate magical properties. Rejuvenation, protection, that kind of thing. That's why I thought of scales – they protect, don't they?"

"You can't seriously want to buy everything in this shop that has anything to do with the sea," Eadwyrd protested as another customer clattered down the stairs. "It seems a little vague- oh, sorry," he broke off, stepping back to let the customer through. "Not to mention extravagant. We need to budget, even with the salary from this new job. We have to save enough for passage back to High Rock."

But Gwynabyth didn't answer; she had paused, hand hovering over a bar of sload soap, staring open-mouthed at the customer who had just passed by. Halted in his train of thought, Eadwyrd followed her gaze – it was an Imperial, probably a few years older than himself, dressed head to toe in armour. As he opened the door his eye caught Gwyn abyth's unabashed observation; he preened outwardly for a moment, puffing his chest and giving her a flirtatious wink before striding outside.

Eadwyrd turned back to Gwynabyth, flustered and confused. All right, the Imperial had been sort of handsome, but he had never known her go moonstruck over adventurers before; she was far too clever for that. Muscles… what were muscles? He'd thought she'd be more interested in someone intelligent and gentle. Scholars, maybe. Or poets…

Gwynabyth was still staring at the door. "Did you-" she whispered – "did you see what he-"

"Yes, I did," said Eadwyrd a little sulkily. "I don't see what's so-"

Gwynabyth came back to earth and saw his expression; she looked torn between amusement and impatience. "Eadwyrd, you goose," she snorted. "He wasn't that handsome. I meant, did you see what he was wearing? His armour?"

"Oh," said Eadwyrd, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't notice… what was so special about his armour?"

Excitement flooded into Gwynabyth's voice. "Dreugh! It was dreugh-plate! Of course…"

"Their protective hides," Eadwyrd said, realisation dawning. "They have a sort of inset healing charm…"

"And that passage in Baron Dwynnen's Alchemia!" Gwynabyth said breathlessly. "'The half in the sea'… we assumed he was talking about measurements, but it must have been a reference to the dreugh! Half man, half sea-creature. Dreugh wax! And- oh, Eadwyrd, I think we've cracked it!"

Laughing in delight, she threw herself at him. He caught her up, swung her around, her smiling face just inches from his… he felt the familiar lurch in his stomach, that wave of helpless falling that had only gotten stronger over the years.

Oh, this is what it should be like! Not the tight-lipped, socially-refined relationship of his parents, not the poor doomed obsession of Lord Castellian to Queen Elysana – it should be all playful banter, equality, Gwynabyth's soft arms round his shoulders, her warm body so close, her chocolate eyes, teasing laugh…

I'll tell her, he thought. I'll tell her very soon now.

In the dim lamplight of the rented room, Solon watched from the bed as Felara Ules brushed her hair. She was sitting at the little bureau, unashamedly and comfortably naked. Solon was growing to like her more and more as the night went on; the immediacy and passion with which she had made love, the articulate wittiness of her speech, the graceful poise with which she held her body. Her vibrancy was totally alien to him – he, whose every action was ulterior, whose every word was premeditated – and he found himself irrepressibly drawn to a nature so opposite to his own.

"I'll be visiting the Ascadians myself in the next few days," she informed him. "Can you give me the low-down? Dren shouldn't be back from Almalexia for a week or so yet, but I'd like to get myself integrated before he does."

Solon was momentarily surprised. Dren was here? Paranoia reared its ugly head, but he mastered himself before it could show. Dren would have far more important business in Almalexia than chasing a runaway conquest.

"What's he over here for?" he asked as casually as possible. "He's got pretty much everything he wants at the estate. Important business, is it?"

Felara tossed him a wicked glance, mischief in her expression. "You didn't hear it from me of course, but he's been at the Palace. I bet he and Helseth are cosying up – after all, our new Majesty doesn't seem nearly as shy of unconventional means as the old one, and who wouldn't profit from a relationship with Dren?"

"Who indeed," murmured Solon. This was the stuff he wanted to know. He wondered how long he could keep her on the subject before it looked suspicious. He decided to throw Manos' information into the mix and see what it turned up. "I wonder if he's taking a greater interest in Almalexia – after all, there's Tong in practically every part of the city now. Much more than even a year ago, if you ask me."

"True," Felara agreed. "He must have stacks of reports in that basement at the plantation. Used to be so you could hardly get in the door; imagine what it's like now! I bet he has dirt on every noble in the city."

"Not to mention the Royal family," Solon pushed.

"Probably them more than anyone. I hear he's got swing on a few Palace servants." She laughed. "Wouldn't want to be them in a crossfire. Can you imagine? Royals on one side, Cammona Tong on the other? Not for all the ebony in Caldera. "

"Mm," said Solon, an undercover agent employed by the Royal Princess to doublecross the Cammona Tong. "Certainly not."

Soon after dawn the next day, Morgiah once again assembled her players. The meeting was far less crowded this time; only two of the seven recruits were present. Solon and Caius sat before Morgiah's mahogany desk, looking as comically mismatched as two people possibly could.

The Princess flipped through their reports. "I am most impressed with your work so far, Ser Gothren. Nenya's trust in you was not misplaced. I must admit, though, your news is disconcerting." She looked up and addressed Caius. "Sergeant Cosades, I will fill you in – Ser Gothren has discovered a worrying degree of Cammona Tong control in the city. It seems that most of the major governmental bodies have been infiltrated, including the Palace."

Caius looked surprised. "That's out of character as far as I know, your Highness. Infiltrating the Palace? Sounds more like espionage to me, and the Cammona Tong are a cartel, not a spy network." He hesitated, shooting a sideways glance at Solon. "Well… not all spies, anyway."

"Until this week, I would have agreed with you," Solon replied, "but my recent information indicates otherwise. It seems they are not here of their own initiative; rather, they were invited."

"Invited?" Caius frowned. "What on earth do you mean?"

Morgiah tapped her quill against the inkwell. "Helseth has always had a talent for working with a province's existing organisations. He sees them as a kind of natural resource. There was a similar situation not long ago regarding the Dark Brotherhood."

Caius looked sour. Too late, Morgiah realised his closeness to Nenya meant he was aware the exact nature of that particular 'situation'. It would not do to get her recruits all het up about Helseth taking out an assassination writ on the Nerevarine.

"Which," she continued with contrition, "I apologise for on behalf of his Majesty, of course."

Caius shrugged, looking resentful. "Not your fault, your Highness."

"I apologise anyway. But to continue: this report is alarming. Ser Gothren, you said you have intelligence that Dren is keeping extensive records on the royal family at his estate in the Ascadian Isles?"

"It appears so, your Highness."

Morgiah frowned. This was unwelcome news. "Sergeant, I am intrigued by your findings also. These black-robes seem to be popping up everywhere. Tel Fyr, you said?"

"Yes, oddly enough. The locals are getting jumpy. There's something not quite right about Tel Fyr these days."

Solon raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Has Tel Fyr ever been 'quite right', I beg to ask?"

A smile twitched Morgiah's mouth. "Master Fyr is rather an eccentric. Do you have any idea what might be going on, Sergeant?"

Caius wrinkled his brow. "Curio got some information from a Hlaalu contact in Sadrith Mora. It seems Ser Fyr has been ordering a lot of alchemical equipment to the tower in the last twelve months."

Morgiah's momentary humour evaporated. "Alchemy?" There were too many links with Helseth here for comfort. She didn't like the idea of her brother getting chummy with powerful a sorcerer like Divayth Fyr. Fortunately, she herself was not without contacts in Sadrith Mora.

Now a choice lay before her. It seemed plain that Dren's mansion and Tel Fyr were both places that merited investigation, but which should she cover first? She was of a mind that these particular recruits might benefit from teaming up. It was obvious that one more assignment with Curio would push Cosades over the edge, and she didn't fancy smoothing over a murder as well as everything else.

Of course, she could cover both by splitting them up and sending them to one location each… but the mention of alchemy had put another thought in her mind.

"I am placing you together on this particular case," she finally announced. "I want you to go to Dren's estate. Get in there and get rid of those records by any means necessary. We simply can't afford to have Dren sniffing around. Ser Gothren, use your Tong influence if need be; I know you have bargaining power in that area."

To her surprise, Solon did not look at all happy with this decision. She shrugged it off. If her instincts were correct, he and the sergeant would prove a good team, however oddly matched they might seem.

After the two had bowed and left, she took out a fresh sheet of parchment and addressed a letter to Gwynabyth and Eadwyrd. If alchemy was coming into play, it was just as well she had two of the best alchemists in High Rock on her doorstep.

A/N: Thank you very much for the continued reviews - I really appreciate the time it takes to write one! Finwitch (great name), you're right, Sharn gra-Muzgob could well have been one of the anonymous cloaked figures Morgiah saw in Scourg Barrow - but of course, it would all depend on her age. According to lore, beastfolk tend to have shorter lifespans than the other races (although I believe the jury's out regarding orcs, since they were actually elves at one point). Considering the timeline (Morgiah first visits Scourg Barrow in 3E 399), Sharn would have to be at least 50 in Morrowind to have been present back in High Rock (the main fic date is 3E 429, and one assumes it takes at least 20 years or so to become a good enough mage to dabble in Necromancy). So... well, I'm probably delving far deeper into this than you wanted :p

Anyway, thanks so much for the thoughtful comments! x