Chapter 21: The Plot Thickens

Only a short while later – it can't have been more than an hour after I fell asleep – I was awakened by a very strange noise, a sort of low-pitched moan. I opened my eyes and almost screamed in terror as I saw a not-quite-human shape looming over me in the dim light. I couldn't make out its features, but I could very clearly see the silhouette of the large, spiked club it held in its hand. As I watched, momentarily frozen with shock, it grasped the weapon with both hands and raised it above its head, poised to strike.

Acting purely on instinct, I flung back the covers and kicked the mysterious figure squarely in the stomach. As it staggered backwards with a grunt of pain, I leapt to my feet, grabbed my sword – which I always kept by me in case of emergencies – and viciously slashed at the creature's face, chest and stomach. It didn't bleed, it… crumbled.

"What the hell's going on?" The noise had woken several people in the other bunks, and a couple of guards had rushed to see what was happening, bringing lamps. "What is that thing?"

'That thing', which was now lying on the floor in a messy heap, was a humanoid figure wearing nothing but a loincloth. Its flesh was a strange powdery grey, as if it were made of ash – in fact, it appeared to me that it was made of ash. The scariest thing about it was that it seemed to have no face – just a burnt-out hole in place of its eyes and nose, and a large, curved gash where its mouth ought to be. I didn't have a clue what it was, but I had a pretty good idea who could tell me.

Wasting no time, I flung on some clothes and hurried out into the streets, leaving the others to clean up the mess. I ran at full tilt through the streets to Caius' house, where I pounded on the door and banged at the windows, not caring who heard me. "Caius! Open up!"

About thirty seconds later, a sleepy-looking Caius answered the door in only his underclothes (ugh). "Ada?" he asked, stifling a yawn. "What is it?"

I leaned against the doorframe, panting heavily. "I've just been attacked in my bed by some sort of ash… zombie!"

"Ah," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Yes. I thought something like this might happen."

"Whaaa…?"

"Come in." He drew me into the house, shut the door, and steered me towards a chair. "Obviously I didn't know this would happen, exactly. But I knew the Sixth House weren't likely to give up that easily."

"What do you mean?"

Caius sighed. "They know who you are now, Ada. Remember that letter you showed me? You may not believe you're the Nerevarine, but Dagoth Ur certainly does. And as long as you're alive, you're still a threat to him."

"So what shall I do?" I was starting to panic.

"Well, for a start, I'd stop sleeping in town from now on. Makes it too easy for them to find you. Maybe camping out in the backcountry is safer."

I felt a painful throbbing in my left temple. "So you're saying I can't even sleep in a proper bed now?!"

"Up to you, of course. Or you could try taking the fight to them; they might have a base nearby."

I winced. I didn't even want to think about taking on any more Sixth House bases after what I'd been through in the last one. What was more, I had a horrible feeling I knew the answer to my next question.

"And… if I leave Morrowind?" I said weakly. "Will he still think I'm a threat?"

"I don't know."

I looked at him with deep suspicion. "You're not just saying that to keep me here in Morrowind, are you?"

"No, Ada, I'm not. I honestly have no idea."

I'd have loved to believe he was lying, but it was no use. When I'd had corprus I'd managed to convince myself that this was all part of Caius' clever schemes, but now that I could think rationally again, I realised that this was impossible. Even Caius couldn't summon up Sixth House creatures at his convenience just to punish me for disobeying his orders. Unless he was somehow in league with them, and… no, that was even more far-fetched.

If I'd only stood my ground, things might have turned out very differently. But I couldn't help it; I simply didn't have the energy to fight any more. I was exhausted, bewildered, sleep-deprived, aching all over from the previous day's 'adventure', and all I wanted now was to curl up in a ball and sleep for the rest of the month, or preferably the year. I was spent.

"All right, Caius," I said wearily, flopping back in my chair. "I give up. You win. If I have to fulfill the stupid prophecies to get Dagoth Ur off my back, that's what I'll do. Just tell me what needs to be done, and I'll do it."

"Very well." He seemed wide awake all of a sudden. "Mehra Milo says the Dissident Priests do have records of Ashlander Nerevarine prophecies, and she has an idea how we might get a look at them. Go to the Hall of Wisdom and Justice and get Mehra to help you find the lost prophecies, then take them to Nibani Maesa and follow her advice. I can't help you from now on, I'm afraid."

"That's all?"

He nodded. "Just remember that Mehra's being watched. If something has gone wrong, find her private quarters; she'll leave you a message there under the code word 'amaya'. Oh, and one more thing…"

"Yes?"

"Just a little advice," he said. "You're no fool, Ada. The days of the Empire are almost over."

I swallowed hard. "Things are really that bad?"

Caius nodded, his expression sombre. "When the Emperor dies, nine hells are going to break loose. Forget about the Imperial City – think locally. Worry about the Sixth House and Dagoth Ur, and squabbles between the Great Houses and the colonists. The rest of the political nonsense doesn't amount to a plate of scuttle."

I'd forgotten to bring my journal, so he had to everything down for me on a scrap of paper. "Take these blacks," he said just before I left, handing me a neatly-folded black shirt and pair of pants. So he did have a shirt! "You can use the house until I return, and I won't be needing this ring while I'm in Cyrodiil. Take good care of them… and good luck."

I plodded slowly back towards the Fighters' Guild, thinking over what Caius had said to me. I knew I ought to be shocked, and upset, but right now I just felt numb. Maybe it was just too much to take in on top of everything else.

If the Empire did fall, what would replace it? I wasn't much of a scholar, but I knew enough history to realise that the fall of Empires didn't tend to be followed by a Golden Age of peace and prosperity. The last time the Empire had come close to collapse was during the Imperial Simulacrum, when the Emperor's chief battlemage had imprisoned him in Oblivion and secretly taken his place. I was too young to remember those times, but my parents weren't, and from what they'd told me – when they were willing to discuss it at all – I got the impression it had been anything but a pleasant time to live through.

As I crossed the bridge over the Odai, I was so deep in thought that I barely noticed the guy standing right in front of me. It wasn't until I got up close to him that I realised he wasn't moving, and was blocking my way. I looked up at him in bewilderment, and realised with a sinking heart that I recognised him: a green robe, a scarred face, and an all-too-familiar glazed look in his eyes.

"The wickwheat is winnowed, and under the harrow, the earth is prepared for planting." His red eyes glowed eerily in the flickering light of the torch he carried."The n'wah must die, and their flesh serve to sweeten the soil."

Hang on, this was a new one. "The n'wah must die?"

"You, foreigner! You must die." He leaned in towards me, his face contorted with hatred."Beasts and men, outlander mer, all must die. Flee his wrath and quit this land, if you would live, or your flesh shall feed the earth."

To say that I really didn't need this right now would be an understatement. "Get away from me." I could hear the tremor in my voice. "Get out of my way now or I'll shove you into the river."

He just stood there, those red gimlet-eyes boring right into me. For a second I thought I might actually have to make good on my threat, but at the last moment he suddenly turned and stalked away. As the retreating figure vanished into an alleyway, I realised that I was shaking.

Back at the Fighters' Guild, I took stock of the situation. I basically had two choices: hire bodyguards, or follow Caius' advice and sleep outside of town. Since the first option wasn't exactly practical on my current budget, it looked like I'd either have to bunk down in the nearest cave or try the barracks at Fort Moonmoth.

Would the Sixth House servants find me if I slept at the fort? Well, it was worth a try. At the very least, being surrounded by a lot of heavily-armed soldiers would make me feel a bit safer.

I packed up as many of my belongings as I could and set out for the fort, now so tired that I was literally close to collapse. Upon arrival, I rolled into the first bed available and fell into a long, mercifully uninterrupted sleep.

It was almost midday when I finally woke up the next morning. I lay there for several minutes, replaying the previous day's events in my head as I tried to collect my thoughts. Okay… I'd killed a Sixth House priest, been cursed with corprus disease, got cured of corprus disease, met a guy who claimed to be the Last Living Dwarf, and nearly got myself brained by an ash creature. Now I just had to work out which of those had actually happened and which I'd just imagined.

The 'Last Living Dwarf' part I was fairly sure was a hallucination, either on my part or more likely on his. That was one of the symptoms of corprus, wasn't it? Perhaps the guy I'd met was in the early stages: still able to speak coherently and hold a conversation, but completely delusional. Poor bastard.

Everything else, though, I was fairly sure had really happened. And I had a nasty feeling that somewhere along the line I'd agreed to become the Imperial Spymaster for Vvardenfell. Clearly I needed to grab Caius before he left and have a long talk about what this actually meant, and how long I'd be doing it for.

I walked back to Balmora in the early afternoon, after a long and vigorous bath and a hearty meal. Before doing anything else, I stopped by the Mages' Guild to buy supplies. Masalinie Merian had already gone to bed when I'd returned the previous night, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw me.

"Ada!" She took a nervous step backwards as I approached. "Are you… did you…?"

"Yep, I'm cured," I said flatly. "I could explain how, but it would probably take all afternoon."

She hesitated, still hovering nervously at a safe distance. "Are you sure you're cured?"

"I'm fine," I told her. "I promise. I am no longer infectious."

She still looked a bit suspicious, but I finally managed to convince her that I really was 100% corprus-free. "Well," she said. "That's truly amazing. I've never seen anything like it before."

As I left the room, I could hear her and some of the other mages whispering together. No doubt a wildly-exaggerated version of the story would be all over Balmora before the week was out.

Afterwards I crossed the river into eastern Balmora to visit Caius. I knocked at his door several times, but for the first time ever, he didn't answer. Thinking he might be out, I leaned against the door to wait – and was astonished when it instantly swung inwards under my weight.

The house was empty. It looked exactly as it had done the night before, only… no Caius. Looking around the room, I spotted a money pouch lying on the table alongside a short note.

Ada,

Had to leave sooner than I expected. I've left you some gold – you'll need it for expenses.

Caius

So he'd gone. I picked up the bag of gold and jiggled it about in my hands. For ages I'd wanted to be rid of Caius, but now that he'd gone, I actually felt a little lost. What was I going to do now?

I walked back to the Mages' Guild with a heavy heart. Masalinie realised something was wrong the minute she saw me. "What's the matter, Ada?"

"He's gone," I said dully.

"Gone? Who's gone?"

"Caius. I visited him just last night, and now he's… well, gone."

"Oh, sweetheart." To my immense surprise, she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. "Men are such beasts, aren't they? But Ada, my love, I'm sure an attractive girl like you can do better than that." She wrinkled her nose. "To be quite honest, none of us could understand what you saw in him in the first place."

I opened my mouth to protest, and then closed it again. What did it matter now, anyway? "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Take my advice, and find someone closer to your own age. One of those strapping lads at the Fighters' Guild should be just your type." She winked. "After all, you know what they say about the best way to get over a man…"

I'd heard that expression, yes. Maybe it was time I found a boyfriend, I thought. After all, it looked like I was going to be here for quite a while yet. And it was certainly long enough since I'd last slept with anyone (though given that I'd spent most of that time in prison, that was probably a good thing).

Masalinie transported me to Vivec, where I hurried to the Temple canton to look for the Temple priestess Mehra Milo. She wasn't anywhere in the Library of Vivec, so I decided to take Caius' advice and look for her quarters. How was I supposed to find them, though? It wasn't like I could ask anyone.

I finally managed to locate them through a scribbled floor plan someone had left on a desk. The door was locked, and no one answered when I tried knocking. After checking no one was nearby, I set out to pick the lock, which luckily wasn't too much of a challenge.

The room behind the door was clean and tidy, but Mehra wasn't there. She'd left a short note on top of a chest of drawers, and my heart sank as I read it:

Amaya,

Sorry I missed you. I had to run some old documents over to the Inquisitor at the Ministry of Truth, and I'm likely to be tied up there for a while. Why don't you meet me there as soon as you can? Then we can leave together as soon as I'm done. And Amaya, don't forget to bring me the two Divine Intervention scrolls you borrowed. Or, if you used them, buy a couple of new ones for me. I think I'm going to need them soon. Janand Maulinie at the Mages Guild in the Foreign Quarter keeps them in stock.

Alvela Saram is the guard at the entrance; just tell her you're looking for me, and she'll let you in.

Your faithful friend,

Mehra

PS: I left a couple of Levitate potions here for you, just in case. I couldn't remember if you knew the spell or not, so I drew a couple from stock.

How a message like this could possibly have fooled even the most brain-damaged Ordinator was beyond me. Honestly, "I'm likely to be tied up there for a while?" Even I could have done a better job of writing a 'coded' message based on the spy novels I'd read as a teenager. No wonder the Dissident Priests kept getting themselves arrested if this was their idea of 'secret' communications.

So Mehra needed me to spring her from jail, did she? Great, another marvellous opportunity to get myself arrested and tortured. At least I had the Divine Intervention scrolls she'd asked for, so I could make a hasty exit if things got too hairy.

Sighing, I took the letter and the Rising Force potions and made my way to the shrine of Vivec on top of the canton. Rather than just drinking one of the potions, I donated one to the shrine for the usual 24-hour Levitation blessing. The last thing I wanted was for the spell to wear off at an inconvenient moment. I levitated up to the Ministry of Truth, where a female Ordinator stood guard on one of the balconies – I could tell she was female because she didn't wear the usual closed helmet.

"Excuse me," I said cautiously, hovering a few feet away from her. "Are you Alvela Saram?"

"I'm sorry. No pilgrims allowed in the Ministry," she said firmly. "I'll have to ask you to lea- wait, you're not here to visit anyone, are you?"

I shook my head, and she quickly handed me a key she'd concealed beneath her belt. "Mehra said you would come," she whispered. "I'll say you subdued me with magic and stole my key. It opens all three exterior doors – the upper back door is best."

"I don't suppose you happen to have keys to the cells, do you?"

"I'm afraid not." Of course; that would have been too easy. "Search for the keys in desks; no one carries keys while on duty. Mehra is in Prison Keep in the cell on the far right. Oh… and some of us are sympathetic to the Dissident priests, but kill an Ordinator, and you'll lose that sympathy. Mehra said you've got rank in the Temple, so maybe you can bluff your way through."

Somehow I doubted that my extremely low rank in the Temple would allow me to bluff my way past the guards – or, for that matter, that anyone would believe I was capable of subduing an Ordinator with magic. My only hope was to stay out of sight until I got to Mehra. Luckily I had a secret weapon: my Amulet of Shadows. (Boy was I glad I'd been lucky enough to find that thing!)

I flew up to the back door Alvela had mentioned and cast the amulet's enchantment before braving the Ministry of Truth – probably the first time a non-Dunmer had ever entered it except as a prisoner. The interior was gloomy and forbidding, as you'd expect from a prison carved out of a big floating rock. I didn't waste time searching for keys – I just hurried through the corridors, past doors with creepy names like 'Hall of Processing', until I reached the one marked 'Prison Keep' and used an Ondusi's Unhinging scroll to open it.

I found myself in a vaguely circular, cavern-like room with a high domed ceiling. Heavily-armed Ordinators patrolled the room on raised wooden platforms, while a group of miserable-looking prisoners milled about on the rock floor below. Mehra wasn't among them, but I could see a heavy door on the right side of the room which presumably led to her cell.

I floated up and over the guards and down to the cell door, where I prepared to cast the Chameleon enchantment again before trying the lock – only to realise there wasn't enough charge left on the amulet. Bugger. I didn't have any Ondusi's Unhinging scrolls left either, and there certainly wasn't time to try and pick the lock.

I tried casting the Unhinging spell myself, once again cursing myself for not having paid more attention to my magic lessons. I'd been the despair of my Alteration tutor, but she'd certainly had the last laugh. It failed, of course, and now I had only seconds left before the spell wore off.

My second attempt failed just as miserably, and moments later I realised my hands had become visible again. I cast a desperate glance around me, and noticed several of the prisoners looking at me in astonishment and confusion. The guards hadn't spotted me yet, but they soon would. Ignoring the other prisoners, I closed my eyes, concentrated really hard, and whispered the words of the spell one last time.

The click of the lock sliding back was the most wonderful sound I'd ever heard. Quickly I yanked open the door and slipped through it, hoping the loud creaking sound wouldn't alert the guards. But it seemed my luck had run out – just as the door swung shut behind me, I heard an angry shout.

"Shit!" I announced to a surprised-looking Mehra Milo. "I think they're on to us."

With admirable presence of mind, Mehra strode over to the door and cast a Lock spell on it. It would buy us some time, though probably only a minute or two at most. "Do you have the scrolls?" she demanded.

I nodded and started to dig around in my pack for the Divine Intervention scrolls. Outside I could hear loud banging on the door, and lots of yelling in Dunmeris – angry curses and shouts of "Find the key!"

I found the scrolls, threw one of them to Mehra and quickly cast the other myself. Seconds later we were both standing in the courtyard of a large Imperial-style stone building. "Where are we?" I asked, blinking.

"Outside the Imperial Chapels in Ebonheart." She smiled. "Of course, normally I only use Almsivi Intervention scrolls. But for my escape from the Ministry of Truth, a Divine Intervention scroll was just what I needed."

A grin spread across my face as I realised how clever she'd been. Even if the Ordinators worked out where we'd gone, none of them would know Divine Intervention spells. By the time they got to Ebonheart we'd be long gone.

"We need to go to the secret Dissident Priests monastery at Holamayan," Mehra continued. "I have a friend named Blatta Hateria who can take us there by boat. When we arrive we will get the lost prophecies from Gilvas Barelo, the leader of the Dissident Priests."

We hurried through Ebonheart – me flying, Mehra walking – until we reached the docks, where a young Imperial woman stood on board a small fishing boat. I'd noticed her and her boat a few times in passing, but hadn't thought anything of it. "Hello, Mehra," she said with a smile. "Want to go fishing?"

"We certainly do." Mehra hurried me onto the boat, and we set off for the headquarters of the Dissident Priests.

Holomayan was another three-days' journey away, out on one of the remote islands of Azura's Coast. While we travelled, I told Mehra everything that had happened to me since I last saw her, and mentioned that Caius had been recalled to Cyrodiil.

"I wonder," she said, frowning. "I never know what he's thinking. I think he's involved in something secret, something dangerous. I was hoping he might help us, and now he's gone…"

We reached Holomayan a few hours before dawn on a cold, misty day. As we walked up the steps to the monastery, Mehra told me that it had once been a shrine to Azura – I just couldn't get away from Her Twilightness, it seemed. Apparently the door to the shrine only opened at dawn and dusk, the magical twilight hours sacred to Azura.

We settled down outside the door to wait patiently (well, not quite so patiently on my part) for it to open. Finally, as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, the magically-sealed door slid open with a loud rumbling sound.

Mehra led me inside, and while I took the opportunity to eat and freshen up, she went to explain the situation to Master Gilvas Barelo. A short while later she took me to Barelo, an elderly man with a gentle, wise face, and introduced me – to my horror – as the outlander who believed she might be the Nerevarine. Having kindly dumped me right in it, she left us alone so that we could discuss the Lost Prophecies.

Master Barelo showed me copies of several documents from the 'Apographa', the priestly writings suppressed by the Temple. The first one was the document actually known as 'The Lost Prophecy', which he read out to me:

"From seventh sign of eleventh generation,
Neither Hound nor Guar, nor Seed nor Harrow,
But Dragon-born and far-star-marked,
Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain,
Blessed Guest counters seven curses,
Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade,
To reap the harvest of the unmourned house."

"I've annotated your copy with our best efforts at interpretation," he said. "But a rough summary might be: 'An outlander – foreign-born, but welcomed as a guest – confronts seven curses beneath Red Mountain. His hand, blessed by Azura, uses a cursed blade to bring justice to House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both.'" He shook his head. "The Nerevarine? An outlander? That wouldn't please many Ashlanders, and it may explain how the prophecy got lost."

I could well imagine that it wouldn't please the Ashlanders. On the other hand, 'Dragon-born' certainly seemed like a pretty clear reference to Cyrodiil, or at least the Empire. No matter how little I liked it, the idea of my being the Nerevarine was getting more and more plausible.

"The prophecies all say 'he'," I pointed out, grasping at straws. "Doesn't that mean the Nerevarine would have to be male?"

"Well, the word in the original Ashlander tongue is gender-neutral," he explained. "It was translated as 'he' simply because everyone assumed that Nerevar's reincarnation would be a man." Oh.

The next document he showed me was a poem describing the 'seven curses' mentioned in the Lost Prophecy:

...through the doors of the unmourned house
where scoffers scoff and schemers scheme
from the halls of the oath-breaking house
rings seven curses of gods blasphemed

first curse, Curse-of-Fire
second curse, Curse-of-Ash
third curse, Curse-of-Flesh
fourth curse, Curse-of-Ghosts
fifth curse, Curse-of-Seed
sixth curse, Curse-of-Despair
seventh curse, Curse-of-Dreams...

Heaven save me from yet more Ashlander poetry. At least this one vaguely rhymed, sort of.

"Fire and ash come from Red Mountain," Barelo explained. "Flesh is corprus. Ghosts, Seed, and Despair are unclear, but Curse-of-Dreams seems to refer to recent cases of soul sickness and Sleeper attacks in the towns."

As I was still trying to absorb all this, he shoved a heavy pile of books into my arms. "Here are a few books about Nerevar you might find of interest. We have also prepared a document for you called Kagrenac's Tools, which will explain to you the terrible secret that the Temple conceals about the true history of the Tribunal. It is to conceal this secret that the Temple persecutes the Nerevarine and the Dissident Priests."

I thanked him, trying to look grateful, and retreated to the library to study the books he'd given me. To my surprise, I actually found them quite interesting. It seemed there was rather more to the story of Nerevar and Dagoth Ur than most people thought.

All the 'official' accounts of Nerevar's life agreed on several points: Dagoth Ur of House Dagoth had betrayed the Dunmer during their war against the Dwemer. Lord Nerevar, with the help of his three closest counsellors – his wife Almalexia, and his friends Vivec and Sotha Sil – had united the other Houses against the Dwemer-Dagoth forces. The Dwemer were defeated in the Battle of Red Mountain, Dagoth Ur was killed, and House Dagoth utterly destroyed.

However, Kagrenac's Tools told a slightly different story. According to this, the Dwemer had discovered the heart of the god Lorkhan beneath Red Mountain. A Dwarven priest named Kagrenac had crafted enchanted tools to steal power from the heart, hoping the Dwemer could use them to create a new god for their own benefit. When he used the tools at the Battle of Red Mountain, the entire Dwemer race had instantly vanished from the mortal world.

Dagoth Ur had not betrayed the Dunmer – instead, Nerevar had left him to guard the tools while he went to consult his counsellors. But Dagoth was seduced by the power of the tools, and used them to grant himself divine powers. When Nerevar and the Tribunal returned, they fought and Dagoth was badly wounded – but not killed. After Nerevar's death, the Tribunal succumbed to the temptation to use the tools, turning themselves into gods the same way as Dagoth Ur.

This, the author claimed, was why the Tribunal's powers were fading. Dagoth Ur had been driven mad by the corrupt power of the tools, but the Tribunal had been corrupted by them as well. And since Dagoth Ur was closer to the source of their power, he was slowly growing stronger, while they grew weaker.

It all sounded very far-fetched – gods' hearts, evil cursed tools of DOOM – yet as I thought about it, everything seemed to click into place. The sudden disappearance of the Dwarves… the Tribunal's failure to stop the Blight… and that letter from Dagoth Ur talking about Nerevar's 'betrayal'. In his madness, no doubt he'd convinced himself that he really was innocent of any wrongdoing.

I wandered over to Mehra Milo, who was seated at a table nearby, hoping she might be able to tell me more. She was completely absorbed in a book, and didn't even notice me there until I coughed politely. "Ah, Ada," she said, with a somewhat dreamy smile. "Forgive me; I was caught up in my reading."

I looked down at the book she'd been reading. To my surprise I realised that it was Children of the Sky, a simple schoolroom book about the Nords of Skyrim. "Are you interested in Nord culture?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "These people are our ancient enemies. Like all man races, they are of inferior blood, but otherwise are human in every respect. Are they capable of enlightenment? Do they have souls? Who can say?"

I gazed at her for several moments in stunned silence. Had she just said what I thought she had said?

Now don't get me wrong: while I've met people of every race who don't fit the usual stereotypes, I have to admit that for the most part they largely hold true. The Nords are hard-drinking louts who live for fighting, the Khajiit have refined thievery into an art form, and we Cyrodiils will talk you into selling your own grandmother and then haggle over the price. Deep down almost everyone prefers their own people and culture, and anyone who tells you they don't is probably lying. But to convince yourself that your own race really is better, that being born Altmer or Imperial or Dunmer actually makes you a superior being – that's a different matter entirely.

Here was an intelligent, educated woman, with several human friends, open-minded enough to challenge the doctrine of the Temple she belonged to – and yet she was questioning whether Nords (and by extension, all humans) had souls. Did she even realise she was talking to a member of the 'inferior' man races? From the faraway expression on her face, I got the impression that she'd completely forgotten. But even if she hadn't, I suddenly realised, it didn't matter – from her perspective she was just making a simple statement of fact. Almost all Dunmer probably felt that way, even if they were better at hiding it.

Suddenly I felt a long, long way from home. Who the heck was I kidding, thinking that these people would ever accept me as their Nerevarine? I had to get out of here.

I wandered out of the room, leaving Mehra to her book, and went to speak to Gilvas Barelo. "Well, I think I'd better be going," I said, trying to sound casual. "I… need some time to think about all this."

"So soon?" he asked, a little surprised. "But you know you can only enter or leave Holamayan at dusk and dawn? Please, make yourself comfortable here. Rest in our beds, and make good use of our services."

"It's OK," I said firmly. "I have some Almsivi Intervention scrolls left. Thanks for all your help with the prophecies."

I'd taken one of them from my pack while I was speaking. Before Master Barelo could reply I unrolled it and cast the spell, not even caring where it would take me. It was time to go back to Plan A.