Not an hour later, I was up the street from the silt strider station, hiding behind a pawnbroker. I had bought two arrows of light elven make and coated them with the poison. This way, if I was questioned in connection to the murders, there would be no correlation with the arrows used in the crime and the remaining orc made arrows in my quiver.

I waited for the silt strider to arrive and my thoughts began to swim. The sound of the Dreamers echoed in my head. "Come to Red Mountain."

'Why,' I questioned? 'What could I possibly have to gain?'

I took my map from my satchel and opened the worn paper to view the middle of the island. In one corner, next to the fold I could see Balmora and the Foyoda Mamea, the volcanic canyon leading down from Red mountain. The rocky rugged area was marked with a border line, labeled as the Ghostfence, which encompassed a number of square miles around the volcanic center. The Foyoda itself led to a large marked building called Ghostgate. Tracing the route, I figured that if I left now, I could be there before morning. Of course, that was barring an ash storm and assuming I didn't run into obstacles. I'd need torches, I thought.

I laid the map on my lap. Had I actually slipped into considering this? I scolded myself, angrily folding the map and stuffing it in my bag. I forced my mind to lie idle as I peered around the corner of the building, concentrating on the revelers. Music played from the square of the financial district. There was singing, dancing, storytelling, and even a couple entertainers such as a mage who used illusion magic to make shapes of colored light and a number of jesters and comedians.

I partook in none of it. Thinking of Ajira closed in an upstairs inn room, fearful of enemies finding her rid me of any desire for merriment. I was obliged to concentrate on my task and get Ajira home. It now encompassed more than my own desire to return to Cyrodiil.

The sun slowly set and as the sky turned from blue to peach in color, I heard the coming of the silt strider. While waiting for it's arrival, I pulled the cloak around my shoulders to fend off the cool air. The nights were getting colder with the growing season officially marked as over for the year. If I had the chance, I decided to buy a heavier shirt or a jacket before leaving for Suran.

The silt strider stopped at the platform and a number of passengers disembarked, some greeted by waiting friends. I searched the faces of the Dunmer women among the group until I spied Safia Dren. She wore a travel cloak over whatever party clothes she had chosen for this occasion. A young Dunmer man stepped forward to offer a helping hand as she stepped from the silt striders back. I recognized him as one of the fighters guild members. Balyn Omavel, the only other Dunmer member of the Fighters guild.

He greeted her with a kiss to the back of her hand before escorting her, arm in arm, to the roof of the Council club.

I had planned on the possibility that she would mark my targets there. I rose and walked briskly through the streets to an alley one building away from the Council club. In the alley, I found a Dunmer couple kissing voraciously. Needing the alley to myself, I threw my hood on and threw my arms in the air. "Ooga booga!" My shouting caught the couple by surprise and they fled in fright.

With the spot all to myself, I took a discarded barrel and stood on it to reach the gutters of the store. I pulled myself to the roof and concealed myself behind a chimney. This put me on an equal elevation with the council club roof. It wasn't an ideal position, but there were no nearby buildings tall enough to give me a birds eye view.

I scanned the private party for Safia. I spotted her, still with Balyn, chatting up the other party goers. A servant took her cloak, revealing a dark blue dress that complimented her skin which seemed almost pearlescent in the moonlight. I settled in, activating the cloaks chameleon ability. It was low level magic, but the tradeoff was that it's spell would last longer than one that could hide me completely. By feeling out with my own magic to the enchanted cloth, I gauged the speed of the energy drain and figured I had well over an hour before the spell would fail.

Now was the time to wait. I watched and watched till my legs grew stiff. It must have been a half hour before a courier found Safia at a table with Balyn. I'd grown increasingly impatient, not from anxiety, but because of Balyn. I didn't care for the way he looked at Safia. 'I wasn't jealous,' I told myself before proceeding to justify my feelings logically. He seemed smug, almost like they were a couple, but hadn't he attended her fathers party with another woman only a week ago? Surely they couldn't be that close.

When they were interrupted by a young Dunmer boy carrying a bouquet of flowers, Safia placed a hand to her chest, face glowing with delight. Balyn looked confused, almost annoyed. She took the bouquet and the courier left.

Balyn spoke. I guessed he was asking about the flowers. Safia smiled, leaning in, plucking one of the flowers from the bouquet and tucking it in his lapel. If it was white, then it meant she was marking Balyn as one of my targets. It was yellow. I realized I'd been holding my breath and let it go. I resigned myself to letting Safia take her time. To her credit, nobody would have guessed she was up to something. Like a social butterfly, she floated from conversation to conversation, leaving the occasional corsage. None of them were white.

Finally, she and Balyn went to address a pair of Dunmer men at a table on the edge of the roof. It was not the edge facing me, but after a short talk I distinctly saw her draw two white roses, proffering them to the men. One quickly accepted, attaching the gift to his lapel while the other took the rose, but continued to hold it in his hand. He waited until Safia and Balyn moved on to place the rose on the table.

I took this as my signal. True, she hadn't pinned the flower to his lapel as instructed, but I'd keep watching for a bit to ensure she didn't mark another target. First, I lowered myself from the roof and ran to find another position with a clear shot on my targets. I pulled myself to another rooftop that gave me a clear view of the two Dunmer. I drew my bow, hampered by the fabric of the cloak. I readied myself with an arrow knocked, looking for Safia to make sure she was done marking targets.

A scream pierced the night and I spotted Safia, clutching at her mouth. Next to her, Balyn fell to his knees, an arrow protruding from his throat. I hesitated as the party fell into pandemonium. My eyes caught a glimpse of a figure drop from the rooftop where I'd been perched a few moments ago. The only telling detail I caught was a green scaled tail before its owner slipped from his roof and into the night.

I sprang into action, drawing my bow and sighting the short distance to the Council club roof. I took one target through the chest before the party goers started fleeing in reaction to Balyn's death. Someone yelled, "Archers, take cover!"

I drew the second arrow and loosed it as soon as I had acquired my target. Too slow, as the wizened old elf had thrown his table over and ducked behind it. My arrow thudded into the wood, causing me to curse.

The party broke up as people scattered, some dodging their way to the stairwell and others, like my target, throwing themselves over the rail and down into the alley.

I rolled off the roof and into another alley, turning the corner down the alley that led to the corner club. To my surprise, I was faced with three Dunmer from the party who had decided to pursue me, one of whom was my target.

Bow still in hand, I drew one of my orcish arrows and shot the first figure who fell with a pained battle cry. I dropped the bow as the second pursuer closed on me. He held a conjured spear, though in his excitement, he forgot how to put it to best effect. He charged in an attempt to skewer me through the chest.

I easily warded the spear to one side with my hand. He continued forward, unable to stop his momentum. Before our bodies collided, I put my hand on the pommel of my sword. I took the tackle, bracing one leg behind me and as soon as he drew back, I whipped the orcish sword out of the sheath and slashed him from one corner of the belly to the opposite side shoulder. He stumbled back and grabbed at his wound to keep his innards inside him. A bolt of light arced into existence and on pure instinct, I threw up a ward spell. My clumsy effort resulted in a slightly reduced bolt of fire, striking me in the face.

I fell to the ground, patting at my smoldering eyebrows and hair. I scooted back away from my foe, but was met with a heavy booted kick to the ribs. I rolled with the kick, tears drawn to the eye I could still see out of. My target raised a hand and again spouted flame. I responded with my ward spell, this time better prepared and able to withstand the full damage. I'd dropped my sword, so I drew for my knife and lunged, shaping the ward to brush his flames off to one side. I caught the surprised Dunmer in the stomach with the blade. Before he could respond, I grabbed his left arm and pushed the gout of fire away while pulling him into a second stab. I threw him into the wall and continued my jabbing motion. I was interrupted by a pain in my right shoulder as the Dunmer's own short sword slashed at me.

My counter was instinctive. I drove my forehead into his nose, withdrew my knife, battered his sword arm away with my knife side, and slashed him along the bicep. I finished with a stab at his throat before others from the Council club spotted us. I dropped the old man and took my weapons from the ground before fleeing in the opposite direction. There was no more reason to stick around now that my target was wounded beyond healing.

I could hear people in pursuit, yelling out an alert that there was an assassin on the run. I broke from the alley onto the riverfront and ducked into the crowd. I sheathed the sword, still slick with blood and knew it would dry, glueing the blade to the sheath and leaving a lingering smell. Maybe a soldier could take the time to worry about such a thing, but I had bigger problems.

I walked towards the north end of town, leaving my hood off to blend in with the majority Dark elf crowd. When I tried to shoulder the bow, I lost patience in trying to tuck it under the cloak. Fearing it could be used to identify me, I ditched it in the Odai river. I then cut the strap on my quiver and shrugged it out from under the cloak and tossed that evidence too. The best plan of action would be to get out of town. As I neared the north wall, I saw that it was well guarded. I might be able to talk my way out if it wasn't for my bleeding shoulder.

If I could find a group that was leaving, I could try to blend in, but nobody else approached the exit. I crossed the river and walked south. I could maybe get to the South wall cornerclub, but the guards would be searching the city soon and I didn't want to get stuck inside the walls.

I tended to my shoulder with some healing magic, healing the surface and stopping the bleeding, although the muscles underneath felt like they were only attached by a thread. For the moment, there was nothing I could do about the torn and bloodied cloak. I considered trying to scale the mountains on either side of the Odai valley, but that was not likely to go unnoticed by the city residents or the guards, even with the aid of the cloaks magic. If I couldn't come up with something soon, I'd have no choice but to get off the streets.

I focused on a pair of boats in the river. A number of young Dunmer men were at the oars, racing each other and I couldn't help but notice that the teams were lopsided. A couple Dunmer youths cheered at them from atop one of the bridges as they approached. Seeing my opportunity, I ran to the bridge, putting on a celebratory grin and tapped one of the youths on the shoulder.

"Come on, let's even the sides," I encouraged him. He watched as I lowered myself off the side of the bridge, hanging by my fingers and waited for the rowboat to pull up underneath me. The elves laughed as I lowered myself into their boat and found an empty seat next to an oarlock. I took the oar and stifled grunts of pain from my screaming shoulder.

The other Dunmer from the bridge lowered himself on the other side and took a position.

"Come on boys! I bet we can overtake those other guys before the next river bend." The next river bend was a little ways beyond the city wall. My ploy worked perfectly, playing on their competitive natures and youthful enthusiasm. These dark elves who'd never met me accepted the comical way I'd joined them without question and we rowed. They catcalled at the other boat as we gained on them. I realized as I watched them that they were my age. For about two minutes, I could almost imagine I was one of them. I pretended that my parents had been some of the vendors hawking their wares in the market day after day. I imagined that I'd grown up with these boys in the boat and we'd gotten into trouble and ran through the streets playing and talked about girls and for a few moments, the weight of being an assassin left me entirely. I closed my eyes and rowed, listening to their good natured heckling.

As soon as we passed under the portion of the city wall that arched over the Odai, someone yelled at us. "Stop the boats!" I looked up to see an unarmored Dunmer standing next to one of the Hlaalu guards on the wall. "The city is being locked down. A murderer is on the loose. Pull your boats to the river edge and identify yourselves."

The racers moved to comply. I followed suit. We were moving downstream, so we were still going to wind up just outside town. Our boats were pulled over to the side where the bottoms dragged in the mud. The others all stood to carefully file onto shore where two guards and three other Dunmer were already approaching, but I let them go around me. When no one was behind me, I leaned over the edge of the boat and dipped my hand in the water, sinking it to the mud so I could lower myself into the water as silently as possible. It was dark now, with only the faintest hint of the sun's light on the horizon. Armed with torches, the guards couldn't illuminate the whole area.

I slipped into the water, the cold taking my breath away. The current immediately carried me south, away from the city. I struggled to take a breath and fully submerged myself. I felt my way along the bottom for as long as I could hold that breath and when I had to surface, I did so quietly. I looked back to the group ten or fifteen feet away. They were glancing around, confused at the disappearance of the guy with the cloak. One of them spotted my head sticking out of the water and pointed.

Throwing subtlety to the wind, I thrashed to the edge and climbed the river bank, making a break for the wilderness. I made a few desperate strides before an awful tearing pain ripped through my right thigh. I crashed to the ground in a soaking heap, clutching at the arrow in my leg. Thinking fast, I pushed the tip through the skin with one smooth shove before the shock wore off. Through tear streaked eyes, I saw the bloody steel broadhead break through the skin. I took and broke the tip off, but the pain laid me out on the ground, sending my head for a spin. I was unable to recover before a number of Dunmer laid their hands on me. I was forced into a kneeling position and my hands were bound behind my back. The tipless arrow was left where it was. Painful yes, but it would bleed less than if it were removed and left untreated.

The guards were arguing with one of the older Dunmer men. "Stand down and surrender the suspect. Need I remind you who the law is here?"

"If memory serves, House Hlaalu is the law in Balmora and this is a personal matter of one of the Hlaalu councilmen. By all means, take the prisoner. Let's see you explain to Orvas Dren why he had to personally come to town to conduct his business."

The composite armored guards looked at each other through eye slits in their helmets. One of them gestured back toward the city with a jerk of his head. They spared me one more glance before turning back to the city gates, leaving me with four of Dren's men. Two of them, I noticed, had been riding the boats with me. These younger two held me in place while the leader, a nobel in a classy flared sleeved shirt and black vest turned from the guards to me.

"Now, who are you and who sent you?" I turned my head to where one of the lackeys was holding my shoulder and bit his wrist. My teeth drew blood and he let go, but the other stomped on my leg right over the arrow wound, throwing me into a fit of pain. I gasped to breath as the leader grabbed my chin and made me face him. "Don't make this worse for yourself S'wit. There's no need to bring yourself more unnecessary pain. Who is your employer?" I shivered, forcing myself not to speak.

Looking disappointed, the leader turned to the young guys. "Put him on his feet." He turned away, letting the fourth Dunmer confront me. This one wore a short mohawk and rolled up the sleeves of his party clothes. He punched me once in the gut, hard. I gagged, feeling bile burn in my throat. The two behind me prevented me from falling by holding my arms.

"This can end as soon as you want," the leader offered. I caught my breath and gazed blankly downward. How many times had I been on the other end of this? The thought of the things I'd done for my father made me weak in the knees. I idly wondered how far they were willing to go in interrogating me.

My beating almost seemed poetically just, bruising my ribs and eventually my face. It all paled in comparison to the things I'd done. The first time I'd tortured, it had been an Imperial legionary. Father had me break his fingers one by one with a blacksmith's hammer. I remembered an orcish laborer I'd teased with a red hot iron rod. All in the name of blackmail. I couldn't help but empathize with my victims in that moment. How could I reconcile those crimes? How had my father?

A fist caught me across the face and I heard my nose crack. I lost all conscious thought for a few moments and a deep voice echoed in my head.

"I will stand by you against those who betrayed you. Come to Red Mountain."

The face of my torturer came into focus. He held my head up by my hair, or at least the part that hadn't been scorched off. "Who is your employer." His eyes searched mine, but finding no answer, he pulled a stiletto dagger from a sheath and laid it against my cheek. "Don't make me resort to something worse."

To my surprise, the Dunmer holding my left shoulder let go. The torturer glared daggers at him. "What are you doing?"

"Come to Red Mountain," he chanted, like he was in a trance. The torturer stood, eyes wide.

"Get ahold of yourself son, we're working!"

"The Sixth house asks you let this one go."

The other lackey turned to his friend. "Come on man, this is serious. Snap out of it." The torturer raised his dagger to the entranced Dunmer as if in fear. The mind slave responded.

"Do not make me kill you, servants of house Hlaalu. Spilling pure Dunmer blood will not benefit Morrowind."

The torturer took hold of the traitors shirt. "I'm giving you to the count of three to wipe that look off your face and start talking sense." He pressed the tip of the dagger to the youth's throat. "One." He paused. The entranced one looked him in the eyes, unblinking. "Two."

The mind slave slowly shook his head in warning. "Don't."

"Three." The dagger slid smoothly into the center of the young Dunmers throat. He collapsed immediately, suddenly vividly aware of himself. Gurgling screams could be heard on the river bank behind me. The torturer turned back to me. "The whole world's gone mad."

Suddenly the air crackled with magic. I gasped, and coughed when I took in a breath of air that was laden with ash that hadn't been there a moment before. I fell to my knees and waited for the air to clear. Three new figures appeared out of thin air, each one engaging one of my enemies. Two were identical. They wore ash grey robes, the color of which was indistinguishable from the skin of their faces. On their faces, they wore strange gold masks over their eyes with gold chains hanging over where the eye holes ought to be. Instead of a nose, they had short trunks like I'd seen on drawings of animals from Elsweyr and Valenwood called elephants. These two figures each laid a hand on the face of one of the Dunmer detaining me. Their victims shook as if being shocked, their screams muffled by a hand.

I scooted away from them and ended up snapping the shaft of the arrow in my thigh on the ground. The pressure tore at the wound, putting me into another fit of pain. Through my tears, I could make out the third figure as being enormous. He stood at least seven feet tall. He wore only a red loincloth with a belt. It looked mostly like a Dunmer except that it had a black wiry beard.

This last figure picked up the torturer by the neck with one hand and with a single shake, the neck snapped audibly. The figure dropped the meaty bag of bones on the ground and turned to me with a voice both deep and smooth. "My master beseeches you to visit his hall at Red Mountain." He put an open hand to his bare, muscular chest and bowed slightly. The two ash priests dropped their victims and vanished, once again spreading ash into the air. The tall figure stretched a hand out to me and the leather bindings around my wrists creaked and snapped in half. He pointed to the bridge just south of us that led past Fort Moonmoth and into the Foyoda up to Red Mountain.

"Join us."

He too disappeared in a cloud of ash, leaving me alone with four dead bodies. I hugged my leg, knowing I had to tend to that injury, but pausing for a moment to stare at the path to Red Mountain.

"No," I said to myself. "I'm definitely getting out of here."