I spent the rest of the day exploring the Foreign Quarter, which was the Canton I'd arrived on and the largest, I'd come to learn. The layout was as follows. The first and second floors were mostly housing and apartments. The richer you were, the higher you could live. The third level was reserved for official offices, mostly city related, but a few residents held offices of major private organizations. An Ordinator jokingly referred to it as the paper factory, because paperwork was the only good or service that came out of it. Then, the market was on the fifth level. Why the guilds got stationed there, I can't say for sure. What I was sure of was that Addhiranirr was nowhere to be found in the foreign quarter.

My only clue was when I finally sat down to eat. The place was called the Black Shalk cornerclub and it was packed with revelers for the harvest celebration. I didn't know what a shalk was, but I figured I was about hungry enough to eat one. It was tucked into the far corner of a hallway on the second level, close to the apartments so people wouldn't have far to walk to come spend their money.

I sat down at the bar and ordered. The menu ranged from simple to fancy and I settled on somewhere in the middle. Tuna steak with fried greens. As I waited for my order an Imperial man just down the bar from me let out the the master of all sighs.

He stared at his plain fare with a defeated expression. He was not old, but he wore the countenance of a weary man. "Rough day," I asked politely.

He paused running his fingers through his hair to glance at me. "Two in a row I'm afraid."

I narrowed my gaze. "You wouldn't happen to be the tax collector looking for Addhiranirr, would you?"

He snorted. "Oh I'm here for two days and suddenly I'm a celebrity, but ask about a Khajiit who's lived and worked here for years and nobody's heard of her." He took his tankard in hand and raised it. "Welcome to the life of a tax collector of the Emperor, long may he reign." He downed the drink in hopes of getting tipsy enough to forget his long day.

I slid down the bar so that I was closer to him. "You know, it's lucky we met."

He perked up and looked up at me. "Why, you know where I can find her?"

"Well, no. I'm looking for her too."

"Well that's just lovely. Now I have a partner in my wild goose chase. We can waste time twice as fast."

The cook laid my plate down in front of me and I eagerly began eating. "Well look at it this way. We don't both have to look for her the same way. You ask people the way a tax collector would. That doesn't mean they won't listen to me."

He chuckled again, doubtfully. "Oh, and how do you plan on asking differently than me?"

I slammed my fist on the bar loudly, making the Imperial jump and the room go quiet momentarily. The tax man spluttered for a moment, the adrenaline countering his buzz. He wiped a few spots of foam from his robe before looking me in the eye. "Alright, you've got my attention. What's your idea?"

"If you've been talking to everybody, then someone must have been hiding something. Does anyone stick out in your mind? Perhaps someone was particularly defensive or evasive."

He shook his head a moment. "If you worked one day in my job, you'd think everyone was hiding something." He was silent a moment before offering, "There were a couple beggars in the basement area of the St. Olms Canton who seemed a little shifty. Not in the dangerous kind of way, but in the nervous kind of way. I mean most people are when they talk to me, but more so in this instance. I tried to press them, but you know how it is."

I nodded. "I'll go talk to them, if not tonight, then tomorrow."

"Let me know if you find anything. I'm on the verge of giving up here."

"Of course." I went back to my meal.

The Imperial began to speak again, "You don't sound like a local. Are you from around…" He got cut off by a chair falling over across the room and someone shouting.

"I thought we made it clear we didn't want to see your scaley hide in here again!" The speaker was a Dunmer, one of several who entered the club together. They were facing an Argonian who was sitting alone in the corner. Despite the commotion, the Argonian laid back, relaxed in his chair.

"There's no call for such behavior. Sit down, I'll buy you all a drink." His voice was smooth and calm, almost disarming.

"I'd rather swallow a netch dropping than drink with the stench of a scaleback sitting across from me!"

Another Dunmer from the group spoke. "You shouldn't have come here Hula whatsit. Now we're going to have to teach you a lesson."

The Argonian sighed. "It's Huleeya you gray skinned, ash brained numbskulls." He rose lithely from his chair, smooth like a snake. "Huleeya from Black Marsh, born to the shadow scale, and raised to put idiots like you in their graves. Usually I prefer to get paid for my kills, but sometimes I make exceptions."

My eyes shot wide as I realized this Argonian was one of my contacts. One of the Dunmer barked a laugh. "Yeah, and how about when the Ordinators come for you. It's the word of a bar full of dark elves versus yours. You're better off taking the beating and leaving."

The Argonian drew a short sword from behind his back and I stood, knocking an arrow to my bow and pointing it at the leader of the dark elves from the opposite side of the room. "Woah, woah, gentleman. I don't think you realize who you're dealing with here." The room turned to me. I took a few strafing steps, keeping the arrow pointed at the group for effect. "Why do amateurs like you always want to pick a fight? If you'd ever been in a proper one, maybe you'd know better than to threaten a shadowscale." I knew of the shadow scale. Argonian eggs laid at a certain time of year special to the daedric prince Sithis were set aside for assassin training at hatching or so the legends go. My father had killed one long ago who was sent after my family.

The gang's nerve was shaken, if only for a moment. One of them replied, "And who are you? You don't sound like a Dunmer. You're an outlander, aren't you?"

"An outlander with a bow pointed at your head," Huleeya finished for me. "Gentlemen, this is obviously not your day, so if you'll just leave us please."

For another moment, everybody was tense and still until one of the group backed down. "Come on, we'll get these N'wahs later."

Once one of them left, the others followed. Another called out, "No need to patronize this business anymore, now that it smells like lizard."

Once the last of them were out of sight, I loosened my bowstring and crossed the room with a quick, "I'll talk to you later," to the Imperial. I took a quick peek out the door to see that the hallway was clear of the gang. Huleeya was back in his seat, the remains of a meal in front of him and a tankard in his hand. "I need to talk to you, " I said quietly. The bow was still held loosely in my left hand, holding the attention of some of the other patrons.

"You don't need to talk to me," he replied coolly. "I appreciate you stepping up back there, I really do, but I don't have time for other people's business. I've got some serious drinking to do."

"Well that's going to be a problem. I need you sober."

"Too late," the lizard croaked as he finished off his beer. "Keep em coming Reggie, I wanna break the record!"

With an exasperated sigh, I sat down next to him. I lowered my voice so only he could hear. "I need to know about the Nerevarine and Sixth house cults before you get yourself stomped by the locals."

His newly filled tankard paused on its way to his mouth. "Now that is serious business." He lay the tankard down on the table. "Business that we must sort out right away, however this one's already on the tab so, bottoms up." He raised the tankard, which was sizable and drained it in one long go, during which, I thought about how much harder each drink would make my job. He set the tankard down with a belch. "You know, we Argonians can breathe with a mouthful of water, but not a mouthful of mead. Trust me, I tried it."

I didn't answer, staring him down with agitation until he was prompted to action. "Alright ash brain," he relented, rolling his eyes. "Let's get out of here and talk philosophy. By the nine, nobody knows how to have fun around here."

Once on his feet, I realized Huleeya was quite possibly the largest Argonian I'd seen. I followed him as he stumbled drunkenly down a long straight hallway to an open veranda and back down another long hallway. The whole time, I kept one hand on the pommel of my orcish sword. We'd gotten that group of Dark elves to leave, but nothing would stop them from trying to jump us now. With the canton halls full of revelers, an attack could come from anywhere.

Huleeya heaved open a seemingly random door in the hallway and led me inside. I glanced between him and the sign hanging over the door with suspicion. "You do realize this is a book shop," I prodded.

"No better way to avoid temple spies than to hide in a place of actual learning. Vivec forbid anyone should learn anything not taught in one of his sermons," he sarcastically feigned piety, clasping his scaley hands and turning his face upward. "Now have you any other complaints about my venue or do you want my report?"

I stopped, leaning against a full bookshelf. "Report on," I invited. "What can you teach me about the Nerevarine cult? I already know they worship the ancient hero Nerevar and expect him to be reincarnated."

The Argonian coolly glanced around the room before answering in what he probably thought was a hushed voice in his inebriation. "Well, in my time here, I've learned a bit about the tensions between the Tribunal temple and the Nerevarine cult. I already knew they disliked each other, but the reason why is truly juicy. You have heard of the battle of Red Mountain, yes?" I nodded. "The Tribunals official doctrine claims that Indoril Nerevar died from his wounds after the battle. The Nerevarine cultists however, believe that the Tribunal themselves slew Nerevar in order to set themselves up as gods in his absence. This is why there is such tension between the groups. The really damning evidence is in the Tribunals own actions. Think on this. Why would they try so hard to persecute anyone who makes this claim if Nerevar had died of his wounds? You could chalk it up to blasphemy, but they don't haul every blasphemer into the Ordinators prison. If so, Vivec city would be devoid of all outlanders. I myself poke fun at the Tribunal, often to the worshippers themselves, but they play it off with their smug faith. Make mention that Nerevar will one day return however, suddenly Ordinators are knocking down your door, questioning everyone you know, and 'reeducating' anyone who the idea may have spread to."

I chewed on my lip in thought, suddenly feeling much more secretive about our discussion. The idea of those golden masked warriors busting in the door frightened me. "So you're saying that if the Tribunal didn't believe in the prophecy, they wouldn't try so passionately to discredit it?"

"You hit the nail on the head. My own theory is that the Tribunal are afraid that Nerevar will indeed return and he'll be none to happy with them for stabbing him in the back. Once in awhile there will be a rumor of someone who claims to be the Nerevarine. I wouldn't put it past the Tribunal to send assassins after them, because the rumors never last. The last one I heard of was an Ashlander mage named Peakstar. The Temple has touted his name as a false incarnate and claims that his failed attempt disproves the Nerevarine prophecy. At the same time, the Ashlanders claim that the rise and fall of multiple false incarnates is a sign that the Nerevarine will return soon. Meanwhile, none of them seem to be doing much to combat the blight from Red Mountain. That just about sums up what I have for you, although," he grabbed a large book from the shelf and took a couple sheaves of paper out from among the pages. "I did prepare this for Caius. I know he loves to read."

I quickly tucked the blasphemous pages into my satchel and out of sight. "Before I go, what can you tell me about the sixth house cult?"

The Argonian perked up slightly with interest. "A cult you say? Hmm. I know that the sixth house was destroyed long ago, but I've never heard of anyone worshipping it. Dagoth Ur was its last leader and I know the temple holds him as the devil of their culture." He shot me a toothy grin. "Devil worshippers, what will the natives come up with next?"

I stood and stretched. "Nothing good I'm sure. Thank you Huleeya. May the stars watch over you."

He bowed dramatically in return. "And may you swim through clear waters."

I decided I'd had enough for one day. I watchfully made my way to the fighters guild where I bedded down for the night. My thoughts were filled with Dunmer politics. My sleep was wakeful, hampered by the thought of the golden masked Ordinators.