A/N: Morrowind, Bethesda. You know the drill. Due to various things like housemates leaving, I am currently without net. This chapter is coming to you via a complicated process involving a USB memory stick and good friends. I actually have the next chapter written but not proofread; alas I don't know when I'll be in a position to post it. I thank you for your patience. - D

"I notice they didn't give you a slave bracer." Winterbell still felt like death warmed up, but had cudgeled her tired brain into some type of alertness.
"I think they know who you are," explained Ilmeni, "They were talking about a Dunmer uh- woman who is a powerful sorceress. She attacks storage caves and kills people, I gather."
"Yeah, that sounds like me. They're probably keeping me alive only because they want to know what I was doing with you." Winterbell tried futilely to pull her boney hands though the iron manacles. Eventually she gave up. "I don't suppose you have any bright ideas?"
"Actually, it's not an idea so much as a thing." Ilmeni started hitching herself up, trying to get her head within reach of her manacled hands. "I have a lock pick." She gritted her teeth as her fingers finally came in contact with the complicated bun that held her coppery hair up.

Winterbell watched her apprehensively, straining her ears in case someone came past.
"Nearly…there." Ilmeni's hair fell free from its confinement, and to Winterbell's infinite relief, the noblewoman had the pick clutched triumphantly in her hand. "I'm not quite sure how to use it though," she tried rather awkwardly to fit the pick into the lock.
"Don't do that!" Winterbell looked horrified, "You'll break it. Here, give it to me."
"How?"
"Throw it. Carefully."

Ilmeni didn't look to happy, but couldn't think of a better solution. She bit her lip as she tried to line up the shot.
"Easy does it- ow! Good shot!" The pick hit Winterbell's cheek, probably a bit harder than was absolutely necessary. Winterbell twisted her head down and attempted to grab the pick in her teeth from where it rested on her armor near her collar bone. Ilmeni shook her head in quiet despair.
"There's someone coming," Ilmeni hissed. Winterbell swore quietly, but continued her attempts to get the pick. With a grunt of triumph Winterbell lifted her head, the pick between her lips.
"Hurry!"

Winterbell pulled herself up and passed the thin piece of metal to her hands. Then she let her head loll, as if she were still knocked out, just as a pockmarked Dunmer in a greasy robe strode in.

Ilmeni glared venomously at him and tried to kick him in the shin as he went past. He kicked her back, but his shoes made little impression on her armor.

"You're just lucky we have to keep you in one piece for the Boss," he growled, "I can't say your ancient friend here will be as fortunate." He gave Winterbell a kick as well, for good measure. Winterbell groaned and kept up her pretence of unconsciousness.

Ilmeni spat at him, as he kept out of range of her boots. He grinned maliciously at her and walked out, promising her something nasty for dinner.
"He's gone," Ilmeni whispered.

Winterbell sighed, "And I was enjoying the rest as well. Okay, I should be able to take the manacles off, even though I'm no expert. This bracer isn't coming off with anything less than the correct key though. Until I get some magicka back I'm going to be pretty useless, I'm afraid."

Ilmeni nodded and watched Winterbell carefully insert the pick. After a nerve-wracking minute there was a satisfying clunk and Winterbell gratefully let her arms fall down.

Winterbell allowed herself the luxury of a minute's rest, and then she crawled unsteadily over to Ilmeni. It was much easier to pick a lock when you could see what you were doing, and Ilmeni was soon gratefully rubbing her wrists.
"Got anything else that's useful?" Winterbell was going through the pouches on her belt. To her disappointment they'd been thoroughly cleaned out, their helms had been removed, but they still had their armor. Ilmeni did the same, but only shrugged and shook her head.

Winterbell sat against the wall, her head still pounding. The effort taken to crawl across the cramped room was enough to make her nauseous again.
"What spells have you got?" she asked, her voice muffled by her hands.
"I have light…and invisibility, and charm, although I'm not very good at it. I can cure common diseases and I can summon an ancestral ghost."
"Invisibility's useful. All right, I don't like this plan much, but at this point I'm going to slow you down. I'll hide…somewhere, I'm pretty good at hiding, and this armor will help. You try and find our stuff, but don't worry if you can't. Collect anything useful, especially weapons and magical items. Try not to let them see you. It goes without saying that we need the slave key, but I doubt you'll find that just lying around."

Ilmeni nodded, and helped Winterbell up. After ascertaining that the coast was clear the pair made a dash for a collection of barrels and crates. Ilmeni was practically carrying Winterbell.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, her eyes full of worry as Winterbell collapsed on the floor, her eyes closed.
"Just… find the bloody key!"

After Ilmeni had left Winterbell curled up in a shadow and slipped in and out of uneasy fever-dreams. Baladas was insisting that there was a key that would defeat Gotheren, but Winterbell had already sold it to Marayan. Winterbell wandered endless corridors, occasionally meeting Marayan, but never quite managing to buy the object back.

An unknown amount of time had passed when Winterbell was roughly shaken awake. Ilmeni crouched in front of her, a sack at her feet.
"They've noticed we've escaped," she whispered urgently, "I couldn't find the key, I'm sorry."
Winterbell rubbed her eyes, "What did you get?"
"I got some rings. And some scrolls, I didn't know if it would be useful but-" she held up a greater soul gem. "I got a scroll of soultrap as well."
"Well done," Winterbell chose a couple rings and put them on. They were by far inferior to her normal spells, but were better than nothing. "No weapons?"
"I found a few daggers. Do you want them?"
"No. I'll stick with the rings. If it comes to a fight we're dead anyway."
"Oh, and there's this weird thing…" Ilmeni held up a strange little statuette. Winterbell snarled, and with an effort struck it from her hand. It shattered on the stone floor.
"Ash?" Ilmeni poked at the remains.
"It's a Sixth House Icon of some kind. I've come across a few of them in bandit caves."
"My uncle is involved in the Sixth House?" Ilmeni was horrified. "How could he let the Tong deal with those…monsters? And then he turns around and blames the empire for the blight!"
"Shh! Look, maybe he's possessed?" Winterbell suggested hopefully. Ilmeni did not look cheered.
"Anyway, I found a way out. I think it leads to another cave, or maybe a tomb."
"A tomb would be good. Is the door locked?"
"Yes, but I found a scroll of locksplitter."
"Heh. And I always thought those things were useless. Let's get moving before the search over here."

The pair made their way through the bandit cave, crouching behind crates and keeping to the shadows. They were within sight of the mouldy wooden door with the alarm was raised. They had been spotted.

Winterbell snatched the scroll of locksplitter and ran for the door, while Ilmeni summoned her ghost. An arrow whizzed past Winterbell's ear as the door unlocked. The pair dashed through and slammed the door behind them. Winterbell pulled the lockpick from her pocket and jammed it into the lock. There was some scratching from the other side of the door, but the bandits weren't, it seemed, too keen on trying to knock the door down.

"Why aren't they coming though?" asked Ilmeni curiously. Winterbell chuckled grimly.
"This is a Sixth House base," she said, motioning towards some red candles that guttered and flickered on the stone floor. Strange sounds floated out from the bowels of the cave. Ilmeni shuddered,
"I'm scared."
"Okay, this is what we're going to do. We're going to find ourselves and ash zombie. I'll cast the soultrap scroll on it. We're going to have to go out through the bandit cave, obviously, but I don't see why we shouldn't try and up our offensive capabilities first."
"Is that really going to work?"
"I doubt it. But what other choice do we have?"

Neither of them mentioned the possibility of surrender.

Ilmeni cast her invisibility spell and scouted ahead. She returned looking rather ill to report that there was a hideous creature standing near some sinister-looking bells.
"It was swollen and rotting. I think it was once a person though."
"Lame corprus. Dangerous but slow. Even better than a zombie."
"We- we're going to attack that thing?"
"It's the only kind thing to do, really. There is no cure for corprus other than death."

Ilmeni gritted her teeth and nodded grimly. She drew her steel dagger. It was wickedly sharp, but looked a meagre threat. They peered around the corner at the grotesque creature and Winterbell fired off both her rings. The magicka slammed into the beast, and it turned with a howl of rage and started lumbering towards them. Again Ilmeni summoned her ghost, and cast her rings.

Winterbell and Ilmeni flanked the beast, doing their best to stay out of the way of its huge fists. Ilmeni slashed again and again with her dagger while Winterbell exhausted the scanty magicka in her rings.

Winterbell was reduced to punching the creature when it finally groaned and fell. There was a comforting whooshing sound, and Winterbell knew that the soul had been successfully trapped.

Ilmeni sank to the floor, gasping for breath and looking ill. Winterbell was keeping herself upright by willpower alone. Ilmeni's dagger was looking very much worse for wear.
"You have a second dagger?"
"It's only chitin," she replied miserably.

Winterbell stalked about, not wishing to waste the soul they had expended so much energy procuring. She kicked one of the bells, which rang hollowly. Ilmeni started,
"What about the other creatures?"
"From what I've seen they're not that bright."
Winterbell's eye fell upon a bell hammer that was propped against the rack of chimes. With some effort she hefted it onto her shoulder. She smiled,
"Now this will do some damage." She let it fall onto the floor with a dull thump and pulled out the soul gem.

Ilmeni watched as Winterbell guided the glowing soul into the hammer. The lines of tiredness and pain left her face as she concentrated. Finally the soul gem crumbled to dust and drifted away. On the floor in front of the mage the bell hammer gleamed malevolently. Winterbell hauled herself to her feet and raised the weapon in tired triumph,
"I dub thee, Sixth House Glory!"
"That's…I don't like that name much," Ilmeni ventured.
"You don't have to. Now, the longer we wait the worse I'm going to feel, so we're going to bust out through the Tong's cave. Are your rings charged yet?"
"Mostly. Wait- what about the slave?"
"The one who got us into this mess? She can rot for all I care." Winterbell snarled, working herself up for the fight ahead. "How did she know who you were anyway?"
"I'm a figurehead for the Twin Lamps. The fact that the daughter of the Duke is on their side gives the slaves hope, even if they can't escape. I must confess, I allowed them to use my likeness on some of the literature. Most slaves can't read, you see."
"Right." Winterbell strode for the door.
"We can't just leave her," Ilmeni pleaded.
"If she's on our way we can grab her, but I'm not slowing down for anyone."

Winterbell eased the pick from the lock and listened. There were shuffling sounds from outside; guards had been posted. Winterbell gathered her strength, and kicked the door open, Ilmeni at her heels.

As the door swung open Winterbell stepped through, and with one smooth movement smashed her hammer into the head of the guard leaning against the wall. He fell without a sound. Unprepared for the assault, the other guard had no time to move before Ilmeni's rather nicked dagger was at his throat.
"Not a sound," the noblewoman hissed. Winterbell stepped over the corpse and wrapped her fingers around the other guard's neck. He groaned and crumpled.
"I'm feeling generous," she said with a humourless smile, "he'll be round in a minute though."

They crept through the now-familiar twists and turns of the cave. They were on a corridor that was sloping promisingly upward when voices drifted from a cavern off the side.
"…her as soon as possible. She's a liability now that she knows what happened to Lady Dren."
"I'll take her to Balmora now."
"Good, leave now. One less thing to worry about."
"Shouldn't we go after Lady Dren though?"
"Nah, if she's got any sense she'll stay near the door. If she doesn't she'll die. She'll get hungry eventually, and if the old hag dies…all for the better."

The second speaker walked out of the room. Ilmeni and Winterbell crouched in the shadows.
"He's going to get the slave. He'll lead us right to her."
Winterbell sighed, "All right then. On your own head be it."

They followed the Dunmer at a discreet distance. He was wearing an Imperial dragonscale helm, and the steel glittered in the smoky light. He disappeared into another small cave and there was the sound of keys rattling. Ilmeni watched the doorway with bated breath, while Winterbell took a quick look in the crates and barrels they were hiding behind.
"Jackpot!" Winterbell whispered triumphantly. She had found her goods. She pulled on her helm, and handed Ilmeni hers. She took her bow and arrows and several potions of restore magicka. There was no time to collect the rest.

The Dunmer reappeared, this time with the slave in tow. She looked rather worse for wear; she had been punished for her earlier transgression, that much was clear. At Ilmeni's insistence Winterbell slithered forward in the shadow, her hammer raised.

A misstep and she kicked a pebble. The Dunmer turned at the sound. Winterbell swung.
"No! Stop!" Ilmeni grabbed her arm. "Uncle?"

A/N: I've yet to come across a door joining a bandit cave and a Sixth House base, but they are nestled pretty closely together in the Bitter Coast Swamps. Call it artistic licence. -D