How I wish I could just make these chapters for a living. But then Todd Howard would be legally allowed to disassemble me at the molecular level.
Chapter 38: Cats!
On the road to Rorikstead, a stop on the way back to Solitude, the General's entourage witnessed a battle between two bandit clans out on the plains of Whiterun. According to Legate Rikke, one of the groups were known to attack Giant camps for their mammoths. The only thing that kept them being bandits were the outstanding bounties on them. The other group was unknown, and none of the Legion cared. Once a clear winner of the bandit battle was cemented, Legate Rikke bade the archers take aim and fire upon the lot of them.
"Seems an awful waste," Mohamara commented to the General while watching the events unfold. "Some of them could have had pathetic bounties, now they're dead and they can't be any better than that."
"Not every clan of bandits will be like the group you found up in Eastmarch," Tullius responded, dismissive. "Most are just people who don't like work, taking orders, and find civilized life too restrictive. If they change their ways, great. But we lose nothing except arrows for disposing of them like the vermin they are right now."
"...Yeah, but those arrows likely cost more than some of those men's bounties."
Hadvar was quick to jump in and tell the two of them how much the steel arrows used by the Legion to cut down the bandits, versus the estimated bounty of the mammoth poachers alone.
General Tullius found his argument being dismantled by accountancy… less than satisfying, and bade Mohamara and his Pink Coats recover as many arrows as possible from the corpses as could be managed.
While extracting arrows from corpses and the ground, Mohamara spoke a prayer of Meridia for fallen strangers: "You are dead, and the dead should be mourned. I mourn you like you are mine, for someone must." He reflected on the people that he should have spoken the prayer for: The necromancers in Wolfskull cave, the Draugr he and Yagraz had killed, Svaknir, Potema herself, and even the vampires they had encountered over the weeks. He stopped in the middle of pulling out an arrow from a cadaver to ask himself: Why hadn't he done so for them?
Yehochanan gently pinched the back of his head and began to spin connections between memories. Everything seemed so… gray, and lifeless in hindsight, and the only spots of color were when he was with a caravan, Yagraz, or doing the will of his Lady. Being more alive seemed the bigger thing than doing what was right for the people who died around him. Perhaps it was because of the Sphere of Kindness-but either way, it helped him to remember his obligations.
When he went back to it, he picked up on his students also doing the prayer for the bandits, without him telling them to do so. The sympathetic bonds within them told Mohamara that they were just words his students spoke, they didn't know the meaning or truly feel for those they prayed upon. He automatically wanted to connect them so that the Pink Coats could truly feel for the fallen bandits, but Yehochanan pinched at his ear.
"No," spoke the spider-crab. "They have taken the first step. They care enough to speak for strangers. You must let them progress naturally, so they can teach others when you are gone."
Reluctant, the Khajiit withdrew from the sympathetic bonds and returned to his work. However, he noticed a pronounced shadow over the Orc he had been extracting arrows from. "Could whoever's in my light move? I need to get this arrow out of his sinuses." The shadow did not move, so Mohamara looked up, ready to snap at whichever student was being a nuisance.
And found himself looking into the face of a sabre cat.
"Don't run," Qorach spoke to him with its gentle voice. "She will kill you if you run-the instinct is too strong. She does not want to kill you, so do not run."
"You should not have let her get so close, then," Yehochanan scolded the Second Servitor.
"She is not your enemy."
However, the Pink Coats did not have the benefit of Daedric living amputations to inform them, so when Adannna looked up and saw a fully grown sabre cat within half a foot of the Master, she did as any sensible person would do in that instance.
Wait, no, she didn't do that at all-because she started to throw rocks at the predator. "Come after me, big stupid Rhojiit!" This, of course, got other Pink Coats to realize what was happening. They too joined in throwing rocks at the sabre cat, the vast majority of them missing because they were mages and their throwing arms were terrible.
"Wait a minute," Galamir said as he missed the eighth stone. "We're not savages! We have magic!"
This precipitated a slew of non-AOE spells being launched at the sabre cat. And still, they missed. Because the non-AOE spells required precision which was why so many of them had switched to AOE spells in the first place.
"How can all of us be so terrible at aiming?!"
Orthorn, however, wasn't one to let a silly thing like missing repeatedly in a, to his perspective, life or death situation discourage him and charged at the cat with lightning arcing over his arms. He intended to Lightning Bolt punch the sabre cat to get it to back off.
None of them stopped to consider why the cat wasn't just killing Mohamara and absconding with the body during this. And when the High Elf lept at the apex predator he found himself held aloft in the air by an invisible force, presumably the Master's will.
Mohamara was deep in the bonds of the sabre cat who, apparently, did not want to kill him. Through her memories, he found a scene of a strange wiggling thing that her instincts identified as 'snake' though she had never seen one. When she bit it, there was a strange whine that brought back ancient instincts of gears and beards which drove her to run away. The snake hadn't even been very filling, she required an elk later to keep starvation at bay.
"So you're the one who ate my tail," the tojay snarled, rising up in an aggressive stance.
The sabre cat flicked her ears back and got close to the ground, as her instincts told her to do when her mother was angry.
Back in the sympathetic bonds, Mohamara found something bizarre. A strong magical bond that brought to mind thousands of other sabre cats, plains, and arctic. When he examined it further, he found it reminded him of Ya'graz's thu'um, or the dragon Marcurio had subdued.
Hah-Gahrot-Dur, the thu'um thread named itself. Mind, steal, curse. Not a dragon, but a Shout. Already, a bond between the sabre cat and the nutrients she had drawn from Mohamara's tail, and Mohamara himself were eating at the connection-dispelling bits and pieces of it. When the Khajiit reached out actively to it, the Shout's bond eroded demonstrably but pulled from the threads leading off into the distance to rebuild itself.
The Thu'um was both a form of Tonal Architecture and Mysticism-whether Mysticism was a part of Tonal Architecture was still being hotly debated. Tonal Architecture used sound to alter the very nature of things-their composition, the way natural forces reacted to them, and how things about them were to be discovered. And the Mind Curse Shout refused to be dispelled in this way.
Mohamara refused to accept this. He took a deep breath and returned to the physical world to glare down at the sabre cat. "I'm still angry with you," he told her. "But I will find a way to break this curse. Hopefully before your species goes extinct." He paused, and his ears flicked back as he thought about it. "Is me breaking the curse how they go extinct? Hmm, questions for later." He pointed down at her and activated Tongues to convey his words to her in snarling and automatic body-language shifts. "I help. No more eating tail!" He pointed to Adannna far in the distance, and then to himself. "Cat-kin. Family. Help and be help. Not for eat! Teach to others."
It honestly surprised him how much he was able to communicate to the sabre cat. But the message got through, and the sabre cat bounded away without further incident.
"Master," Orthorn asked, still floating four feet in the air. "Can you let me down now?"
The setup was perfect for another joke, but Mohamara didn't take it. Instead, he simply released the bonds holding the High Elf aloft. The Pink Coats quickly gathered together to inspect the Master for injury without actually touching him, but the tojay instead turned to face them with his arms crossed.
"You stood there, and shot at that sabre cat for two minutes and didn't land a single hit. Do I need to say how pitiful that is?" When none of his students had a viable defense for their failure other than to look at their feet, Mohamara sighed. "Orthorn, I honestly expected better from you at least."
"I think I might be coming to rely too much on Chain Lightning, Master." He bowed and asked for forgiveness, and the other students did so as well.
"None of you even thought to summon a Flame Atronach-something I know you are all capable of doing. So from now until we get back to Solitude, if you have free time it will be spent practicing your aim with Firebolt, Ice Spike, or Lightning Bolt-whatever it is you know best. Am I understood?"
The chastised students nodded and started to go back to collecting arrows when Mohamara spoke again.
"Don't let this failure keep you from trying in the future. I'm pleased that you did try to help. But I've had to learn that you need to think about how to help before doing it too-now it's your turn. Hopefully, it won't bank on chopping off your own hand and having it come to life."
Yehochanan punctuated the scene with his castanet claws.
Rorikstead was home to a particularly advantageous situation, as far as Mohamara was concerned. Not too far off the road was a small town's worth of Khajiit all gathered in one enormous camp. Ri'saad and Ma'dran's caravans had met and combined.
It didn't take much for the General to decide to stop at Rorikstead rather than ride through-Solitude was still days away and with bandits displaced by the battle of Whiterun still clearly an issue, getting the status of local settlements while also resting their horses appealed too much to the General's pragmatism.
And it presented the perfect opportunity to pay Ri'saad back, while also getting to be among the caravan again. He had Hadvar draw up a letter of credit for a bank in Markarth, likely Ri'saad's next stop, and made his way to the temporary Khajiit settlement with his Pink Coats and minder straining to catch up.
His reception was atypical, even for the caravans. Easily recognized figures such as Tall-Cat Kessei, Atahbah, Ma'randru Jo, and Ahnji immediately greeted him, though it took them a long time to realize who he was from sight alone. That seemed understandable to Mohamara-he had new fangs, and a far more colorful fur-pattern than when he'd left them last. Oh, and he was missing a chunk of his tail again, which only Ri'saad's caravan would have experienced before.
Ma'dran and Ri'saad were in the elder's tent with the flap closed-meaning they were not to be disturbed until their business was concluded. So in the meantime, Mohamara sat near the central fire and let the curious cats come to him.
"Ja'khajiit," a cathay from Ri'saad's caravan greeted him hesitantly. "You… look different than when this one saw you last."
"And you look like you lost a tooth," Mohamara observed. "Got into another fight? Here, let me whip you up a regeneration thing to grow it back." The tojay began to draw soul-thread from his amulet and approached. One of the cathay's excessive number of earrings became the host to a dense packet of Nordic knots with the regeneration effect.
While this was happening, the Pink Coats save Adannna were visibly uncomfortable being surrounded by so many Khajiit who seemed at least annoyed by their presence in the living space portion of the caravan. Adannna was occasionally greeted or chatted to in ta'agra, mostly about how skinny she was and how she needed to eat.
"Such big fangs you have, ja'khajiit," declared Atahbah once she made her way over to the fire as well. "And you've dyed your fur, and put in earrings-this one guesses Ahkari told you of the traditions while you were away?" She looked over the Pink Coats and her tail began to twitch ever so slightly. "Ri'saad will not like that you have brought strangers, though. Already he is upset with Ma'dran for letting you join with the Legion."
"I didn't join the legion," Mohamara corrected as he cinched the last knot on the earring of regeneration. "I was conscripted because the Imperials don't have anyone remotely competent in the field of enchanting." He glanced over at Hadvar. "I'm not being insulting, by the way. By the standards of competency for enchanting I've been trained to, there isn't anyone in Skyrim even remotely close."
"I'm not complaining," Hadvar shrugged. "Your work is well worth the generous budget and wages you get. Would be different if we had a substantial Shadow Legion presence, however-they don't take criticism well."
It was then that Atahbah noted Yehochanan and puffed her fur out considerably. "Ja'khajiit, do not move. Is strange mudcrab on your back." She fished around for a stick until someone handed one by another caravaneer. "I smack it off, then you run."
"Hmm? Oh, this isn't a strange mudcrab. He's Yehochanan, a sort of...pet?" With unspoken orders, the spider-crab crawled onto Mohamara's scalp to be clearer to see. "He spins some sort of...sugar-silk? Cotton candy? I don't know exactly what it is, other than it catches the light like oil on the ground. If it kept for any length of time, I'd have a bunch for you to try selling."
Atahbah either didn't listen or had a thing against crabs, because the second Yehochanan clacked his claws like castanets, she hit the spider-crab like a fastball with her stick. However, the First Servitor was not helpless. A trail of prismatic silk followed behind him and allowed the spider-crab to catch the wind, and ride it back, right at Atahbah with pincers flared.
Invisibly, Mohamara caught the spider-crab before he could pinch Atahbah to death, and brought the Daedric creation back over to him. "I've learned some new magic since I left. So trust that I can handle a crab on my back, Atahbah?"
Reluctantly, the Khajiit merchant set down her batting stick and eyed the tojay. "Where did you get such a strange pet, ja'khajiit?"
"I made him out of my hand after it got chopped off."
Atahbah looked at Mohamara in steadily increasing alarm until Marandru'jo walked up to her and held out his hand.
"Pay up," he said with a flat voice. "I won the bet, he turned out to be just as mad as Skooma Cat."
Stunned, Atahbah mechanically handed over a small pouch of coins to the male cathay. They both left the scene shortly thereafter.
"Ja'khajiit."
Mohamara looked over at Ri'saad's tent to see the flap held up by the eldest caravan leader, still standing inside.
"Come, speak with Ma'dran and Khajiit," said the ancient cathay, still as droopy faced as ever. "Caravan will keep your guests while you speak."
"What does that mean," Brenelin asked, a note of fear in her voice. "Adannna? Master? What does he mean by 'keep?"
"Relax," Adannna waved the Bosmer's worries away. "Elder means they stop us from leaving or doing anything other than buying from the caravan. This one will tell you when you misstep, trust Khajiit."
With the matter clarified, Mohamara walked into the caravan leader's tent, which had the flap dropped down behind him. Inside, Ma'dran sat cross-legged and still almost reached the top of the tent. He watched the pastel tojay find a spot to sit, while he puffed on a sugar pipe.
Ri'saad found his seat again and sat with slowness brought on by arthritis. "Much has changed since we saw you last, ja'khajiit." Ri'saad leaned in close and examined the earrings the tojay wore, squinting in the low light. "You dye your fur, as a tojay should. And you wear silver and gold in your ears, as Khajiit should. Have you perhaps spoken to Ahkari while on your travels, and she has told you these things?"
The shortest Khajiit shook his head. "I've met someone who asked her about those things, but I've never spoken to her myself."
"Hmm." Ri'saad sat back and rubbed his forehead. "This one had hoped you had news of her caravan. With all safe roads to Eastmarch, Winterhold, and the Rift closed to us, we have no way to see with our eyes."
"Ahkari's caravan is most important of all caravans," Ma'dran rumbled around his sugar pipe. "Is where the ma'khajiit are sent after our workers are too… carefree. This one has a ma'khajiit with her caravan, had hoped to show her to you."
Mohamara squinted at them each in turn. "Ma'khajiit sounds rather strongly like ja'khajiit. Should I get my translation spell up, or are one of you going to translate?"
Ri'saad glanced at Ma'dran, and it seemed a chastisement for the cathay-raht sighed and looked away.
"Ma'khajiit are the… infants of Khajiit. Those too small to walk on their own yet. Ahkari's caravan is most heavily guarded so that our workers will have a safe place to leave their young ones."
"Who have you spoken to, who has spoken to Ahkari?" Ri'saad looked toward the flap of the tent. "Perhaps the former sweet tooth Khajiit outside? This one is also curious why they follow you around."
"They're my students," Mohamara shrugged while Yehochanan picked at his scalp. "You know… Skooma Cat is my dad?" When Ri'saad nodded, and Ma'dran dropped his pipe, the tojay continued. "Well, I sort of started… to become like Skooma Cat. They… worship me? The Legion guy is my accountant. Speaking of!" Mohamara hastily handed over the letter of credit.
Ma'dran was occupied keeping the elder's tent from catching fire from his loose pipe, so missed Ri'saad's eyes bugging out for all of one second as he read the letter of credit.
"I know it's more than I owe. But… what's money if not for spending? You guys took care of me when you didn't have to, might as well share some of the wealth with you, yeah?"
"You are generous, ja'khajiit," Ri'saad said as he folded the letter up and put it into his quilted jacket. "It warms this one's heart that still you think of us. But back to Khajiit's question?"
"Oh. My husband-to-be talked to her. He wanted to know Khajiit courtship rituals, but… it isn't something I'm comfortable with."
Both larger Khajiit exchanged a look, then looked down at the tojay. "Speak to us about this husband, ja'khajiit. When this one last heard about this subject, you dreaded it like removing a rotten tooth."
"Well, yeah. And I still have doubts… but I got to meet the guy, and hear about some of the people who got turned down. But, he's a member of the Thieves Guild, an overall decent guy. I'm working for his dad at the moment if you have ideas for how I can use that to help the caravan."
"Working… for his father? His father is a Legion commander?" Ri'saad crossed his arms and considered. "Perhaps could be useful, if other Imperial Holds do as Reach and Haafingar have done-we could carry Imperial supplies."
"Yeah, the General's pragmatic enough that if you make the best offer he'll give you the work."
As if summoned, there was a distinctly General Tullius sounding cough outside the flap. "If it isn't too much trouble, I would have words with the caravan leader?"
Ri'saad stood and went to the flap. When it was opened, there was the General, with Rikke off to the side behind him.
"There's some official Imperial business I would like to talk to you later, in an actual civilized place, about. But if we could have… a moment alone? I would speak with you about your grandson."
Mohamara's ears went flat against his head, and Ma'dran rumbled in displeasure, but they both stood and left the tent without the elder needing to do anything but turn his head slightly. Their presence was exchanged for General Tullius and Legate Rikke.
"Did… I get Ri'saad in trouble?" The tojay looked up at the cathay-raht who shrugged. "Hmm. Well, I can try doing that ritual that blinded me for a bit again to see how Ahkari is doing. So long as I don't try doing anything insanely complex, or requiring complex insanity, it shouldn't have negative side effects."
"This one asks you kindly to do so," Ma'dran reached down and went to pat Mohamara on the head, but Yehochanan flashed is abdomen with the scary face and held up his claws. So instead, the cathay-raht patted the tojay on the shoulder. "Khajiit worries about how Ahkari's caravan will fare, trapped in Stormcloak lands after they lose so badly."
Jarl Laila Law-Giver was in paradise.
After the disastrous battle at Helgen, so devastating that Ulfric had to turn his fleet around or risk the Empire's secret weapon being used on him too, she thought the end was creeping up on her and the cause. But there was a unique opportunity presented by the event. A Khajiit caravan, normally on the road from Riften to Dawnstar, had turned back in light of the avalanches. It wasn't yet known what roads were safe, or if the volcanic geysers of Eastmarch would erupt from the earthquake.
Laila had disregarded the advice of her Stormcloak general, and her steward, and commanded that the Khajiit be brought within the walls of Riften for their own safety. She met with the caravan leader, a stunning beauty of a cat named Ahkari to discuss the needs of her people. It had taken all of Laila's willpower not to break her Jarlly disposition and pet the gorgeous feline. But the tipping point was when Ahkari had mentioned that her caravan had children to protect, and required space to set up adequate defenses.
Naturally, Laila commanded that the closed-off sections of Mistveil be opened up and cleaned for use by her Khajiit guests. For too long, she'd said, they had been strangers to her. So in the time of crisis, they would share her home.
The first time she beheld Khajiit infants, it was like she had been born again. There was a joy in her chest that wouldn't go away-more than when her own sons had been born. At last, she understood what the temple priests spoke of when they described Mara's love.
To Laila Law-Giver, Mara's love was that Khajiit existed in the world, and the purest expression of goodness was in Khajiit babies.
The caravan was grateful for stone walls and vigilant guards after so many years of being kept at a distance. That their host was so eager to make amends that she offered her own time to tend to the children so that their nurses could have a moment's respite was the height of kindness.
"I… am legitimately amazed," Anuriel told the caravan's leader one evening as they had their meal at the Jarl's feasting table. The ancient tradition had become fact once more, and Men and Beastfolk broke bread side by side at the table. "Jarl Laila didn't even change her own's sons swaddling clothes when they were little-and she has been tending to your young ones so much that I have to get Harrald to approve things in her name."
"Yes," replied the suthay-raht Ahkari, dressed in fine bear furs that were a gift from the Jarl herself. "After so long as outcasts, to be having such a warm welcome brings this one unfathomable joy. Some of Khajiit's peers would be angry that it took so long, but not Ahkari. She is so happy that we are welcome at last, she does not mind that it took years to happen."
Anuriel watched the caravan leader eat her horker loaf-a rare meat bought from Windhelm and Dawnstar. Their efficiency with meat made the Bosmer jealous a little, horker meat especially would get stuck in her teeth. But also she watched for signs of perhaps magical inclinations from the suthay-raht.
Not long later, the Jarl's housecarl went looking for her. And of course, he found Laila among the Khajiit, specifically the impromptu nursery. The Jarl was bent over a giggling Khajiit babe, one of over fifteen, jangling keys just out of the fuzzball's reach. Unmid cleared his throat to try and politely get the Jarl's attention but to no avail.
Instead, Laila was cooing to the babe and seemingly happier than Unmid had ever seen her before.
"My Jarl-," the housecarl foolishly started in a disgusted tone of voice.
Why it was foolish became immediately clear when Laila's happy expression vanished and she glared at him like he was the vilest, most disgusting, awful thing to have ever existed. "What. Do you. Want?"
"I…." Unmid was stunned, so he raised up his hands to ward off a possible attack and backed away. "I merely wished to inquire if you are sure you wish to continue skipping meals to do this… domestic work?"
"When I am done, I will eat. And not before. Go, before your armor wakes the sleeping ones." As if it had never happened, Laila went right back to cooing and grinning at the Khajiit babe. When the little cub started to gum at his own tail rather than bat at the keys, she squealed with delight.
Unmid, rather than risk her displeasure further, hastily retreated.
Laila has discovered the best thing about the internet: Kittens.