Wisdom in Words: An Elder Scrolls Tale
Greg J Miller
~O~
Chapter 25
Middas the 22nd of Last Seed 4E73 Morning
Nikula Pinewatch sighed lightly as she sat behind the front counter of the Black Horse Courier. She'd just finished up with handing over copies of the latest edition to a rider heading out on the Gold Road run to Anvil.
Though she'd seen that Colovian man with the scraggly beard numerous times over the past few months, she'd not known his name at all until that morning. Of course, 'Martin' had become a fairly common name for boys born over the decades immediately following the Oblivion Crisis. That circumstance had only started to wane somewhat over perhaps the past twenty years or so. Even so, Nikula recalled that there had been three boys called Martin at the schoolhouse during her time over there. Though the legacy of Martin Septim was hardly likely to be ever forgotten, it also seemed that his name would follow a great number of more ordinary men throughout their lives.
For a time, it seemed that it might be destined to rival that of Nords by the name of 'Hans'. However, that particular thing tended to cause slightly some more interesting troubles in Cyrodiil. Since most Nords avoided holding to family names, except under unusual circumstances or under duress from Imperial offices insisting upon more unique identification of the numerous Nord's named 'Hans' or other such common names.
Nikula smirked wryly to herself as she tried to think of just how often she'd heard of a Nord going by the name of 'Hans son-of-Hans' or the like.
Despite her own Nordic heritage, she'd avoided that sort of thing and inherited a rather less common family name. She'd heard the story often enough from her father. Alex's grandfather Erik had been born one of those Nords without a family name. Though not quite as common as Hans, there were certainly a lot of Nords called Erik. It was only after he'd settled down with an Imperial woman and taken to running the Pinewatch farm near Falkreath that he'd started to go with that family name. According to her father, it had very much been at the insistence of his grandmother.
In a slightly different manner, Nikula's maternal grandfather Nikulas had only taken the Northwind name during the time that he worked for the Imperial Trading Company in the Imperial City. Even back then, they typically pressured Nord sailors to sign on with something more than just a given name. Even if it was something other than Hans.
Presumably, Nikula's grandmother had been a lesser influence, since she was an Imperial born Altmer without a family name of her own before marrying Nikulas. Aside from the Dunmer of Morrowind and those odd customs of Orcs, most of the other elvish people typically shunned family names as well. She recalled that some of the Bosmer went by 'clan-names', but just as many did not. She suspected that the Dunmer traditions might have been originally derived from something like that, thought she didn't really know for certain. Most Altmer only went by their given names, which seemed broadly varied, but all very Altmeri sounding.
She wasn't really sure what the case was with the Redguard. She knew that quite a few Redguard seemed to only go by a given name. Though they were often different enough to readily avoid confusion over who was who. Some Redguard also seemed to go by Yokudan sounding clan-names or location or the like.
Nikula suspected that some of it had something to do differing customs between the Forebear and Crown factions, but she didn't really know the ins and outs of that either.
Of course, the names of Khajiit and Argonians were often so unique that the Imperial offices were generally satisfied with their actual names. That said, some Argonians did go by Imperialised translations of their names, if they seemed especially difficult for human tongues.
For the most part, the strict tradition of adhering to the use of family names seemed to come from the Imperial provinces of Cyrodiil and High Rock. As a function of the Empire, that sometimes forced people from other regions to go along with that, or at least some version of an acceptable variant that allowed Imperial officials to effectively identify individuals with decidedly non-unique names.
For just a moment Nikula again briefly marvelled over the broad and unlikely circumstances of her own existence. Though her mother's parents had lived in the Imperial City many decades before, and Monika had even been born there back around the beginning of the Fourth Era, her grandparents had travelled right around Tamriel via Skyrim, before settling over in Wayrest. It was only because her mother had left Wayrest behind and come to Cyrodiil and then been with the Fighters Guild when her father had come down from Falkreath to Chorrol, that she'd even been born. Given the great distances involved and other matters of coincidence, it all seemed so very unlikely.
Nikula was shaken from her musings as another Black Horse rider turned up to collect a pile of the new edition for delivery.
After the door closed again, with nothing else demanding her attention, Nikula returned to perusing the copy of the latest edition the Courier on the desk in front of her. It had been a fairly quiet week as far as the news of the Empire was concerned and that was clearly reflected in the slim profile of the latest edition. Aside from some proof reading, there was very little of her own contribution to be seen in much of it.
As had been anticipated, that story about the unrest down at the Leyawiin salt mine had served as the leading article. Both Arturo and Martin had remained dissatisfied with what scant information could be gathered to put into print, but they had to settle on going with what they had. According to communication via the Leyawiin College of Whispers, the dispute between the operators of the salt mine and the workers was believed near to resolution and production was likely resume in the following weeks. None of that represented a certainty of outcome, but they could only readily report what was currently known and truthful.
Martin Doran had tried to pad out the report with some commentary regarding the events that led to the dispute. The matter of mine operators not wanting to pay for enough guards at the mine location was part of it. The other part was more about the Imperial Legion seemingly not doing enough to keep the rogue Khajiiti Renrijra Krin gangs from coming across the border with Elsweyr. Of course, without aggressively policing the border as though upon a wartime footing, there was only so much that the Legion could really be expected to do.
Of course, though the southern kingdoms of Elsweyr had not been part of the Empire for decades, most of them not even holding trade alliances, like the case with Rimmen and Riverhold, there was no state of active hostility or tension like with the Aldmeri Dominion. The independent kingdoms of Elsweyr largely remained as an unruly and chaotic buffer between the Dominion and Empire. Even so, any of the unintended chaos of southern Elsweyr spilling out into County Leyawiin hardly served to preserve the tenuous state of peace.
Moving on from the Leyawiin articles, Nikula only briefly skimmed that latest promotional piece written by Jesper Pellegrin for the Courier. Much like the previous ones, it featured some brief excerpts from the upcoming biography of the Emperor. That material was framed by commentary provided by the Breton bard that seemed to her to be more in the vein of florid storytelling than the tone of proper reporting. Even so, she presumed that was exactly what was expected and required.
The back part of the latest edition had been dedicated to talking up the events of the upcoming Harvest's End festival on the twenty-seventh. There was some mention of the things planned to take place about the various localities of Cyrodiil and such. More of it was about what would be taking place within the Imperial City on Morndas.
There were some musical and theatrical performances to take place in both the Arena District and the Green Emperor Way. Of course it was nothing quite like the Emperor's Day festivals, but it would still likely be somewhat excitable.
The notable influx of farmers and traders coming to the city around Loredas and Sundas, then staying for the day of festival on Morndas would make the place seem especially busy. Undoubtedly, all the taverns and inns would be bursting to capacity and some revelry would likely bring some unusual troubles that spill out onto the streets at times. None of that was particularly unusual.
Though the Wawnet Inn was situated somewhat peripheral to the more frantic activities of the city, there would still likely be some increase in business during the days before and after the festival. Though it would likely be a little more hectic than normal, her mother would be glad of the upswing in the flow of coin.
Unlike some previous times, Nikula hadn't been asked to help out at the inn. She was thinking that it was high time that her brother was called upon to take up some of the slack in that regard. He certainly had a lot more idle time on his hands.
At that point, Nikula still wasn't certain of her schedule over the end of the week and into the next, but Martin had mentioned that Art might want her to put in a part-day on Morndas. Unless there was some unknown reasoning, she expected that she'd still be putting in half-days on Loredas morning and Sundas afternoon.
Martin had already suggested that next week's regular edition would be going out on Middas instead of Tirdas. That would give them just enough time to include something about the festival in that next edition.
Perusing some of the commentary in the back of the latest Courier, Nikula again noticed something else that Arturo had written regarding the Harvest's End festival. Though it was rarely so loudly mentioned in recent times, that day also marked the date of something rather more sombre, which occurred more than seven decades before.
It was on the twenty-seventh of Last Seed in 3E433, the final year of the Third Era, when Emperor Uriel Septim VII and his legitimate heirs were murdered by Mythic Dawn cultists, setting off the events of the Oblivion Crisis. With the involvement of the Champion of Cyrodiil, Martin Septim had been found and together they'd assembled forces to fight off the incursion from Mehrunes Dagon's realm of Oblivion. During the final conflict in the Temple District of the city, Martin Septim sacrificed himself to defeat the Daedric Prince and close the gates to his infernal realm. Recognition of that sacrifice was reflected in the rebuilding of the Temple of the One, situated in the centre of that district.
As usual, there would be a quiet moment of remembrance for the last of the Septims held in the Temple District on that morning.
Aside from the generally more family friendly activities of the open-air entertainments and performances about the city, most everything else about the festival would likely revolve around the heavy drinking of copious volumes of alcohol.
With some encouragement of generous tax-concessions depleting Imperial coffers, tradition held that taverns offered free drinks during the Harvest's End festival. As her mother had told her often enough before, the trick was to encourage patrons to buy more food to go with their drinking. Proper records did serve to off-set monthly taxes after the fact, but the coin still needed to come from somewhere to pay for all the alcohol consumed, one way or another.
Just as Nikula was about to set aside looking to the new edition of the Courier, she noticed something on the listing of performances scheduled for the festival.
A performance of "The Passion of the Sacred Lily" was listed for late afternoon on Morndas at the Memorial Pavilion on the southern side the Green Emperor Way.
Though she'd never actually read the stageplay, she'd previously heard the general idea of it all. Some people thought that it was some sort of celebration of the more lustful interpretations of some followers of Dibella, of a like that really seemed more reflective of Daedric Sanguine followers. However, it was supposed to actually be more of a representation of the opposite of that. The stageplay was meant to be an examination of the true nature of the Divine Dibella and how the purity of her teachings can be easily subverted by those of somewhat less than pure motive or understanding. It was supposedly said to expound the view that the distance of separation between the teachings of Mara and Dibella was never intended to be broad or at all contradictory.
In passing, Nikula idly imagined that it might be something that she probably should make the time to read. Even if it wasn't really something that immediately attracted her current interest, she supposed that it might serve to gain some insight into what kept some others so actively distracted from what she considered as more serious pursuits.
Though it seemed that a long road might still lay ahead of her, she remained far more driven in the pursuit of becoming seriously recognised for her contributions to writing the news of the Empire, than exploring what might be expected by anyone citing the value of following the teachings of Dibella or Mara. To her mind, anything of that nature would remain concerns of the still distant future. At least, for the time being.
After returning from grabbing something for lunch from a open vendor stall in the marketplace, Nikula sat down at the front counter to eat, expecting a rather tedious afternoon ahead of her. Aside from the brief interruption of another delivery of crates of paper for the presses, her expectations were reasonably met.
While she was outside, she'd thought that she'd spotted that same Altmer stranger again, coming out of the weapons and armour store across the street. Since he had the hood pulled up on his cloak, she wasn't quite certain that it was the same one that she'd seen over at the Feed Bag the previous week. Even though, she thought that he did look like the same one. She still held no idea of who he was or why she'd only noticed him from time to time about the Market District only recently. In any case, she could hardly expect to recognise every face that passed by on the streets of the Imperial City and since it didn't seemed to be a matter of notable interest or concern, she gave it no further thought.
Only one thing of possible interest passed that afternoon. Martin Doran returned from speaking with Arturo and made mention of something yet to be sorted. He'd said that though it wasn't yet in set in stone, Art might want her to go spend some time observing some of the festival entertainments on Morndas to contribute to writing articles covering the activities in the city during all of that. Martin suggested that he'd be doing some of it and that Art also planned to have Jesper provide something as well. Unless something else especially newsworthy emerged, the Harvest's End festival was likely to be the main focus of the final edition for the month. Added to that, they'd need as much material as reasonably possible and it would need to be written quickly to get the presses in motion by Tirdas afternoon.
Nikula responded enthusiastically enough to Martin's suggestions. Though it wasn't really the kind of important news that she'd prefer to be writing, at the least, she would be writing something for the Courier.
She expected that it was going to be something of a rush and that she might well be doing part of it on Morndas evening, if it was to be ready for Tirdas. She didn't mind so much about any of that. Not so long as it led to more important work down the track.
Even though she wasn't at all busy that afternoon, Nikula had somehow lost track of time. It was well after five when Martin came back downstairs from speaking with Arturo again about something. He seemed surprised to see that she still there.
Advising that he was just about to head off home after speaking with Ja-Mere downstairs, Martin prompted Nikula to call it a day and that he'd see her the next morning.
Collecting her satchel and slinging it over her shoulder, Nikula was soon on her way.
Walking along the main street of the Market District, Nikula noticed in passing that most of the open vendor stalls had packed up for the day. Some of the other stores were still open and would be a while longer. Some were already starting to close. Likely as a result of low custom expectation for the remainder of the fading day. Of course, the taverns and inns would be just gearing up for the early evening rush of activity. All of that was fairly normal.
Though it wasn't much later than usual, Nikula noticed the slight shift in the shadows cast by the late afternoon sun, which had already fallen below line of sight behind the tall stone walls of the city. It was about two months since the solstice of Midyear. The sun was already setting about an hour earlier since the peak of summer. Though she wasn't sure of it, by her casual reckoning, it seemed that the sun was setting about a quarter of an hour earlier than a week before. Since that didn't seem right, she was trying to work that out in her head as she passed through the gateway into the Elven Gardens District. Only exchanging a nod with the city guard standing by the open gates, she managed to maintain her train of thought. Still uncertain of it, she'd decided that it probably was more like the passage of a fortnight for the sun to be setting a quarter hour later. It was probably those rainy days of the previous week that erroneously affected her perception. She'd imagined that her father would probably know exactly what the case was, but the times of sunrise and sunset over the seasons was hardly something that she studied with anything more than casual observation.
There weren't so many people on the main street of that district at that particular moment. Not that she was really paying much attention. The elderly male Bosmer sharing a joke of some sort with a guard on the corner by the King and Queen Tavern only barely registered in her peripheral awareness.
Her main focus was just about getting through the city and then down to the village before dusk set in. Unless she observed anything that might represent something of importance that could qualify as a newsworthy occurrence, the ordinary and mundane was unlikely to draw her attention.
Headed along the last block of the street before reaching the Talos Plaza District, Nikula heard some odd noises coming from the alleyway between the houses on her left. The first part sounded like raised voices, then there was a sound like something wooden being bashed against stone. A somewhat feeble panicked cry of a male voice gave her reason to pause and look down the stone archway toward the trees and bushes at the back of the houses.
"Lemme be." A male voice called out weakly for a second time.
Though it probably should have been the first thing on her mind, Nikula hadn't given any thought to calling out to that guard back over near the tavern. If another guard had been standing by the gateway to the next district, she might have been prompted to do the most logical thing and call out for help. Instead, she dashed down between the walls of the stone lined alleyway toward the source of the desperate sounding voice.
Reaching the far end of the alleyway, Nikula observed the cause of the ruckus. It took only a moment for her to recognise that beggar who she'd previously spoken with. That one going by the name Xander. He was down on the ground in the shade of a tree off to her left. A pallid Imperial man in dark leather attire and dark cloak with the hood pulled back was standing over him.
It wasn't immediately obvious what any of it was about. Only that Xander clearly appeared in great fear of the stranger and that he might have been hurt, but she couldn't yet tell whether he was or otherwise. She hadn't thought about what had happened to another beggar weeks beforehand, or else she might have been even more concerned in the moment.
"What are you doing?" Nikula had spoken up without even thinking at all about the wisdom of it.
While Xander continued to cower on the ground, the stranger shifted his gaze in her direction, with a threatening expression. His eyes appeared bloodshot to the point that he almost looked like he was half-Dunmer or something like that. The way his expression seemed contorted with rage, though it was hard to tell, he somehow looked less healthy than the beggar he was threatening on the ground.
"The Courier girl." The Imperial spat the words as though they were intended as insult of some sort, also implying that he already knew of her.
Xander whimpered again incoherently.
"Leave him alone." Nikula tried to sound far more confident than she was feeling in the moment. However, her tone of voice easily betrayed her attempt at bravado.
"I was planning to get to you as well." The stranger kicked the beggar in the leg and then in his ribs, causing Xander to groan in pain as he rolled over to his side, seemingly unable move any further away. The Imperial then shifted his weight on his other leg and rapidly lunged forward, catching Nikula by her arm.
"Get off… off…" Struggling to free herself from a firm grip, Nikula uttered a grunt and then made an incoherent noise, which somehow gained in volume and transcended a normal cry of protest. The loud noise emerged from her mouth. So loud that she actually startled herself with it. It seemed to reverberate off the stone walls of the buildings. Accompanying that sound, it seemed as though a great gust of wind had come from her.
Apparently just as startled, the stranger had released his grip upon her arm, sailed backward over the top of Xander from the apparently unseen force and then slammed against the stone wall of the building just behind him, falling to the ground.
In the very same moment, Nikula had toppled over backward and landed forcefully on her arse on the grass behind her. Without yet moving and sitting wide eyed, she tried to keep her focus on the threatening stranger.
The brief look of surprise on the face of the Imperial had not lasted long. As soon as he was on his feet again, an expression of mixed rage and contempt accompanied a low guttural growl.
It seemed that the attacker was about to lunge forward again. However, noises of shouting voices from the main street seemed to alter his intent. Shaking his head and grunting, he cast a glance toward the back street in the opposite direction.
Nikula watched in mixed fear and awe as the stranger made a gesture of spellcasting and he then shimmered like a waterfall, then faded from visibility. Cringing slightly, she held her breath, listening for footfalls coming toward her.
"What's going on here then?"
Nikula nearly wet herself in response to the male voice at her back. Scrambling to her feet, she was just barely relieved to see the guard of the City Watch standing in the alley archway. He looked like the same one she'd spotted by the tavern.
"I… I… he…" Nikula was babbling and seemingly pointing toward the tree.
"Was that you making all that noise missy?"
With her mouth wide open, but saying nothing, Nikula was alternating between nodding and shaking her head.
The guard maintained a stony expression. "You can't go about the city letting out those Nord battle-shouty things. Folk get locked up for far less than that."
"But I… I don't…" Nikula was shaking her head again in wide-eyed protest.
"I think I should take this matter in hand." A male voice with an odd accent came from behind Nikula as she was facing the guard.
Both Nikula and the guard looked to the source of the words. A tall male Altmer with stark white hair had suddenly appeared on the scene and was standing by the stone-framed well. Neither of them had noticed him or heard him coming until he'd announced his presence. Again, though not at all certain of it, Nikula thought that he looked like that same Altmer that she might have spotted more than once over the past week or so.
"Who are you then?" Though the Altmer had spoken with a tone of authority, the Colovian guard seemed to take offence over the perceived interference.
The tall Altmer held up his open hand. He held a medallion of some sort with the symbol of the Penitus Oculatus. "You will recognise this." That was evidently intended as statement of fact, rather than a question.
"One of them lot." The Colovian guard didn't sound impressed, but his expression declared that he knew that he wasn't in any position to object.
"Yes, as you say." The Altmer didn't seem to take any offence from the guard's tone, as though taking offence was clearly beneath him.
The guard looked to the beggar whimpering on the ground as though he'd just noticed him. His gaze flickered back toward Nikula, then toward the Altmer, before returning to Nikula again. "You responsible for that?" A tilt of his head indicated Xander.
Nikula shook her head with a bewildered expression. "No. No, I… I ah, I heard him calling out. A strange looking man was standing over him. I… I don't who he was… or what he was… but he used some sort of invisibility magic and took off."
"And so you used some sort of Nord battle-cry thing?"
"It… it was… it was an accident. I don't even know how to do that sort of thing."
Without sounding particularly annoyed, the Altmer spoke up again. "I believe that this matter is somewhat outside the range of your responsibilities soldier. It is part of an ongoing investigation being conducted by the Penitus Oculatus."
With a slight shake of his head, the guard released a sigh. "Righty then. Just doing my duty. I don't want no trouble. And don't want no trouble over not doing my duty."
The Altmer maintained an even tone. His expression gave nothing away. "I can assure you that your duties have been fully attended. I can take the matter from here."
The Colovian sighed again. "If you say so."
"I do." The Altmer returned a slight nod.
After a final quick glance around the area, the guard turned about to head back out to the main street. Four or five individuals blocked his path, milling about in the alleyway. "Comon, you lot. Nothing to see here. One of the Emperor's agents is having one of them special investigations. Everyone back to your own business."
Wide-eyed, Nikula briefly returned her attention to the Altmer, then looked toward Xander, who was still cowering on the ground.
"Xander, are you alright?"
The beggar firstly responded with a whimpering groan. He shook his head. "Ain't hurt that bad, young miss. I've had worse." He tried to get up, then crumpled back down to the ground with a cry of pain.
The Altmer stepped toward him. "I would suggest that you are… rather more hurt than you claim. In fact, I imagine that are rather fortunate to be alive."
Xander cringed at the Altmer's approach.
The Altmer appeared to release a silent sigh. "I am not here to harm you further." He remained standing and gestured in a manner that indicated the casting of a spell, though there was nothing readily visible to be seen as he held out his hands over the beggar.
The Altmer's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. "Yes, as I suspected. A broken bone in the leg... and one broken rib. Remain as still as possible." He didn't wait for Xander to provide any acknowledgment or consent. He began casting another spell. That time, the magicka gathering about his hands was more apparent. Sparkling magic cascaded down along his forearms and shimmered down over the injured beggar for a lengthy and prolonged moment.
The Altmer nodded slightly. "That will not completely heal all injuries. However, the bones should be back in place and partly restored. I would recommend that you avoid placing any undue pressure on the leg and rest as much as possible over coming days."
Without trying to get up, Xander nodded and bowed his head. "Blessings of the Divines be upon ya. I have no way of repayin' ya."
The Altmer tilted his head slightly. "A full explanation of exactly what transpired here with suffice as proper payment."
Xander shook his head, blinking his eyes. "I don't nothin' about nothin'. I swear."
Maintaining a direct glare, the Altmer raised his eyebrows, then frowned. "We both know that is untrue. I am perfectly aware of what you already know from previous circumstances and activities, most likely directly related to this afternoon's altercation. What I require from you is an account of what occurred just now, before my arrival on the scene."
The beggar shook his head with his mouth half open.
Nikula spoke up. "I... I saw part of it."
The Altmer shifted his gaze in her direction and raised his eyebrows in question.
Nikula involuntarily inhaled a sharp breath. She felt like there was something off about the way the Altmer moved, but she couldn't quite recognise what it was. "I... well I heard Xander calling out. I was on the main street. I dashed down the alleyway and saw that... that strange looking man standing over him. Looked like he was gonna kill him... or least give him a severe beating."
Without shifting his expression, the Altmer prompted her further. "I take it that you managed to acquire a good look at the attacker?"
Nikula nodded ambivalently. "Yeah... sorta. Dark hair. Not so tall. He sorta looked like an Imperial... Nibenese looking... but his eyes were all messed up... sorta bloodshot... and he looked sorta... sorta sickly." Nikula paused with widening eyes. "He might've... he might've been a vampire. I... I've never seen one before... not that I know of... but he..." She trailed off.
"Did he speak to you?"
Nikula nodded. "Sorta. Said he was... he was 'gonna get to me'. He mentioned the Courier. He seemed to know that I worked for the Black Horse Courier." Her expression telegraphed a concerned measure of surprise.
The Altmer returned his gaze toward the beggar. "What did you hear?"
Xander cringed again. "I didn't tell him nothin'."
"That is not what I asked." The Altmer maintained his glare.
Xander was shaking his head again. "I... I... he turned up outa nowhere and started beating on me. He... he was askin' about what I know about the Emperor and who I been telling about it. He... he said... he said something about... about Clavicus Vile... but I told him don't know nothin' about nothin'. An' I sure don't known nothin' about what he was askin' about."
Nikula interjected. "Clavicus Vile... the Daedric Prince?"
The Altmer glanced blandly in her direction. "As suspected."
Nikula frowned. "So... so that man was a vampire... with… with something to do with Clavicus Vile?" Her eyes widened as another thought suddenly came to mind. "And he killed that other beggar... the other week?"
Xander whined again. "I didn't say nothin' about nothin'."
The Altmer ignored him, looking toward Nikula with narrowed eyes. "I firmly suggest that you keep that notion to yourself."
Nikula shook her head. "But... but, I work for the Courier. If this news is important..."
The Altmer's sharp glare served to cut her off. "Anything that you think you know is still a matter of ongoing investigation. Investigation under the jurisdiction of the Penitus Oculatus. Interference on your part may well hinder my ability to effectively deal with the perpetrator. That will not be tolerated by my peers. Added to that, you will only place yourself and others at greater risk."
"But... but a vampire… and a Daedric Prince." Nikula wasn't giving up easily.
The Altmer maintained a serious expression. "The relationship involving Clavicus Vile's patronage of the Cyrodiilic Order of vampires is not uncommon knowledge. However, the specific circumstances of precisely what is currently unfolding need to be kept confidential until the current matter is properly resolved."
Nikula opened her mouth, but remained silent.
The Altmer added further comment. "The assailant is evidently pursuing anyone involved in the recent spate of rumour mongering involving suggestions of dealings between the Emperor and that Daedric Prince, pertaining to occurrences during the Umbriel Crisis. That would appear to include a number of beggars and seemingly yourself."
Nikula shook her head. "But I don't know anything either." She cast a quick glance in Xander's direction. "Only what Xander told me... and he didn't know much of anything. Just what he heard from someone else."
The Altmer resumed. "It is not matter of what of you actually know, but more a matter of perception... perception of what you might know."
"But... but the Emperor..."
"I am assured that the Emperor bears no responsibility for what has transpired. It is a matter involving a rogue vampire who knows too much about certain things that he should not know... and perhaps the added influence of that Daedric Prince."
"But... but I work for the Courier. People need to know. To be warned. I can't... I can't just say nothing."
"You must. For the time being. At the very most, you might say nothing more than a street beggar claims to have been assaulted by an unknown vampire. At the least, that is not a completely irregular occurrence. I would suggest it far better than even that remains unspoken, at least for now."
"So... so, I need to keep quiet about it?" Nikula was frowning again.
"Yes, for now. You must remain quiet... and remain on guard. The rogue likely knows how to find you. I cannot be watching over each of you and actively pursuing the vampire at the same time. As it transpired, I arrived here far too late to intercept the rogue and he'd already escaped the area. I have perhaps wasted further time here, but I suppose that cannot be helped."
Nikula shook her head, trying to process all of what she'd just heard.
The Altmer reached under his cloak and produced two small vials. He handed one to Nikula and the other to Xander. "Take this and consume it. It is a preventative cure for disease. I cannot say for certain whether either of you have been infected by that vampire, but this will deal with anything of that kind. I certainly do not wish for any more vampires in this city."
Nikula considered the small vial with a serious expression. Xander guzzled his vial down without any hesitation.
Focussing his attention upon Nikula, the Altmer had something else to add. "Another thing... it was unwise to tip your hand by using that Dragon-voice ability so openly."
Nikula frowned. "But I don't know what that was. It just... it just... happened."
"Your father should have spoken with you about it. Since he has not, I recommended that you speak with him at the earliest opportunity."
"You know my father?"
"After a fashion. It was a long time ago. Not the best of circumstances. Yet no lasting concern came of it." He paused, shifting his posture. "If you learn of anything pertinent, or need to call the local soldiers for assistance, advise them to contact me… Agent Darkwater."
"Darkwater?" Nikula furrowed her brow at the odd sounding name. "What kind of name is Darkwater?"
"A matter of convenience. Nothing more." The Altmer gestured with a sharp nod of his head. "Dusk approaches. You should hurry back to the village." He turned to Xander. "And you might find it far better to try passing some time over at the Temple during the evening hours. At the least, it would be a place of relative safety in the current circumstances."
Xander nodded in an uncertain fashion. "My thanks to you, mister Darkwater. I'm in your debt."
The Altmer responded only with an expressionless nod. He shot a final glance in Nikula's direction. "I have a duty to attend." Not inviting any further discourse, he turned about and headed for the back street, moving with brisk and purposeful stride.
Xander shifted on somewhat unsteady legs, evidently favouring the good one. "I ain't gonna test me luck any further, young miss. I'm plannin' on getting' over to the Temple of the One, like he said. I got lots to be thanking the Divines for today. If ya want, I'll walk with ya as far as Talos Plaza."
Nikula murmured her agreement and returned an absent nod.
Both of them keeping out a wary eye, they headed back to the main street of the Elven Gardens District and kept moving toward the centre of Talos Plaza.
~O~
"What's in a Name"
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