Chapter 5

Middas, the 6th of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys felt much better venturing out into Markarth wearing a proper dress. Nords still looked at her with disapproval. With her hair colored brown, she looked like a Breton, and her dress didn't fit properly. However, she looked like she was merely poor instead of a whore. Being dismissed for being poor Breton was much better than the unwelcome attention she'd drawn wearing just a sleeveless smock.

According to Senna, Eltrys worked at the smelter at the west end of Markarth, and all she had to do was follow the rivers downstream. The problem she had with her directions was that following the rivers led her straight to the plaza, the one place she didn't want to go. Rather than risk running into the same guards again, she backtracked and took sidestreets and alleys to circle around the plaza. She passed a few stores and was tempted by one that sold clothing. A properly fitted dress would help her fit in even better. However, she decided to seek out Eltrys first. As she continued to follow the rivers downstream, the shops and homes became smaller and poorer. She also noticed more Bretons and even a few other races moving about. Some men turned to look at her, not in disdain or because she looked like a whore, but simply the usual attention men paid to a pretty lass.

She found the smelter at the far end of the city near the wall, just as Senna had said. The men working the smelter were stripped down to their breeches as they shoveled coal and silver into the smelter. Daenerys circled around from a distance. Eltrys was supposed to be an overseer and a Breton. It wasn't too hard to pick him out. There were two men yelling orders. One was an orc working up close to the smelter. The other was a Breton wearing fine clothing and he was supervising the pouring. The Breton had brown swept-back hair that fell around his shoulder, a clean-shaven face, and an intricate spiderweb of red facepaint. He was ordering people about with a confident air, and while he swore frequently it was the good-natured kind of swearing that men did while they worked. She had heard a lot worse while rowing the Sea Dagger. From the way the men responded they expected it and weren't offended.

She was reluctant to just walk up to him while he worked, but after watching for a few minutes it was clear that he wasn't going to be getting any less busy any time soon. So, she gathered her skirts, dodged around the busy men, and walked up to him.

As she did there were some catcalls from the men. "Oh, look what we got here." "Hey, wanna see my hammer? I'm good at hammerin'." "Yeah, with your hand." "Ooh, Eltrys, looks like she's got eyes for you."

Eltrys stepped away from the men. "Do you need something, miss? We're busy here."

Daenerys took a few steps closer so she could talk without being overheard. "Senna the Acolyte sent me your way. She said you were looking for someone to help you investigate."

"What?" He frowned. "I'm sorry, but Senna must have misunderstood. I need a mercenary, or at least a warrior. Someone who can hold their own and protect me in a fight. You're…" He looked her up and down. "I'm sorry, lass. You're easy on the eyes, but that's not at all what I need."

Daenerys laughed. "I'm a mage. I can more than hold my own in a fight."

"Oh." His mouth twitched and then he nodded. "Maybe, but do you know what you're getting into?"

"She just said that you've been poking your nose into things and that you wanted someone to back you up. Sounds dangerous for a Breton to be doing in Markarth, but that's why you'll pay me, right?"

He looked about. "Yeah. I suppose. Look, I'll meet you at the Shrine of Talos after I get off work. It's almost always deserted these days." He turned to leave.

She reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait. I just arrived here recently. I don't know my way around and the man I followed here threw me out. I need to sell a few things, just to get by, but when I tried to sell, the merchant called me a thief and threatened to call the city watch. I didn't know Bretons were so hated here. Where can I find an honest merchant, who won't try to rob me, or call the guards?"

"An honest merchant?" Eltrys laughed. "I don't think there is such a thing, but you must have been looking at the wrong end of the city. Stay here on the downriver end of Markarth. There's a couple of stores, inns, and taverns that cater mostly to us Bretons and other outsiders." He waved to the north. "You should find something over that way. Now, can I have my arm back?"

Daenerys released him. "Thank you. I'll see you at the Shrine of Talos."

"I'll be there," he agreed and walked away.

After he left it occurred to her that the Shrine of Talos may be deserted, but it really wasn't a good place to meet. There were Thalmor in Markarth. Wouldn't they keep an eye on it? However, she didn't want to make more of a scene than she already had so she let him go. Maybe it was a good thing? A sign from Talos? Her hand strayed up to just below her neck, but she left her amulet with Senna. While she felt nothing, she decided to take it for a sign.

Following the directions Eltrys gave her, she found a section of the city that was more crowded and less pristine than the rest of Markarth. The majority of the inhabitants were Bretons, or possibly Reachmen. It wasn't like she could tell them apart based on their appearance. There were still plenty of Nords, although they were obviously poor, and also a handful of other races. Dark-skinned Redguards seemed to be the most common, which wasn't surprising as they were close to Hammerfell. Daenerys remembered how she had naively wondered if the Dunmer of Windhelm clustered together in one quarter because of law or simply to be near their own kind. Now that she was on the receiving end of Nord prejudice, she realized that the answer was neither. They clustered together for safety.

Daenerys spent the morning carrying some of the cheaper items from the house of Molag Bal and selling them at various shops. Even in the foreigner's quarter, the shopkeepers looked at her like she was a thief. Not that it stopped them from buying. They even gave her good prices, but she soon learned that almost everything was more expensive in Markarth. The exception being anything made of silver cost less than in Whiterun or Riften. She found few weapons for sale and no armor that would fit her. When she asked about where she could have armor made that would fit her, she received the same answer from everyone: an orc smith named Ghorza gra-Bagol.

After having successfully made several trips without being stopped, Daenerys decided to just take all the iron weapons she'd found to Ghorza gra-Bagol. With any luck she could swing a deal where she would be paid in armor instead of gold. She rolled all the weapons she had found into the sabercat pelts and tied off the bundle. The thick pelts hid most of the weapons but the bow was too large to fit inside. She ended up having to carry the bow across her back. That drew more attention than she liked. Surprisingly, few women went armed in Markarth. Those who did wore daggers. Even with just a bow strapped across her back, Nords looked at her suspiciously again. She knew they were wondering if she was a Forsworn dressed as a Breton. She stuck to the side streets and alleys to avoid the Markarth Guard. She did not want to answer questions about why she was smuggling weapons.

Even the alleys of Markarth were surprisingly clean at least in the Nord dominated sections of town, so Daenerys had little fear in using them, but she unfortunately chose the wrong alley. A back door slammed open not far in front of her, and a blond Nord was tossed bodily out of it by another Nord built like an ox. She could hear raucous cheering from beyond the open door.

"Cheaters aren't welcome here, Mathon," said the brute of Nord before he slammed the door shut.

Daenerys glanced about. This was a long straight section of alley with no intersections, so she either had to go past this Mathon or turn her back upon him. Neither option appealed to her.

Mathon pushed himself up. He wasn't quite as burly as the bouncer who had tossed him out, but it was close. He wasn't wearing any armor, but he had a sword in a scabbard on his belt. He looked at her and laughed drunkenly. "And what are you supposed to be? A mighty huntress, you little Reacherwoman chit?"

"I'm just minding my own business." She looked him in the eye as she said it. This was not good. A drunk and angry Nord was a dangerous Nord. All she had was a dagger. She had left the priest's mace behind at the house of Molag Bal because women didn't carry more than a dagger in Markarth. At least women wearing dresses didn't. She had seen a few warrior maids wearing full armor and carrying weapons, but most women didn't even carry a dagger.

"Well, my day is looking up." He stalked toward her. "Tell you what, leave the bundle for me and I'll let you walk away with that bow."

"I'll scream," she bluffed.

"You go right ahead and do that. By the time the guards get here you'll be dead. They'll thank me for killing another spy." He moved a hand to the hilt of his sword. "Is a bundle of furs really worth your life?"

Daenerys held out her left hand and channeled a burst of flame as long as her arm. "Is trying to rob me worth your life?"

"Forsworn!" He drew his sword in an instant and charged her.

Daenerys knew she wasn't even close to being a warrior maid, but she trained with the Companions who were known as the best warriors in Skyrim. Some things had become almost reflexive. She dropped the wrapped bundle of pelts and brought her left hand up aiming at his face with a blast of fire. He flinched away from the fire giving her an opening to bring her mace down hard on his left side. He wasn't wearing armor and she could feel his ribs crack. That's when she noticed that Molag Bal's mace had somehow appeared in her right hand.

"Fuh-fuh," gasped the man still on his feet. His breathing was ragged and pained. From the way he was staggering some of his broken ribs had pierced his lungs. Without healing he would be dead soon, but he still held a sword in his hand. He took a few steps forward and swung at her.

Daenerys easily parried with Molag Bal's mace. It was a wicked and heavy weapon. The force of her blow ripped the Nord's sword from his hand and sent it flying across the alleyway. "I'm not Forsworn. Swear upon Talos to leave me be and I'll heal you. We can both walk away and pretend this never happened."

"Fuh. Oo," replied the man. He made a hand gesture with two fingers in the air and twisted his wrist to show the back of his hand and his thumb now between them.

Daenerys knew that hand gesture very well. It was one of the first she learned while working at the Sleeping Giant Inn. "No, thank you, Mathon." She looked down at the heavy ebony mace in her hands. It looked wet, but she could see no blood on the mace. It would be so easy to bring it down on his head, but no matter what the man had done he did not deserve to spend his afterlife in Coldharbour.

She knelt beside him. "You don't deserve this." But, he didn't deserve an afterlife in Coldharbour either. She channeled healing into him and watched as his ribs straightened out and the color returned to his face. She cut off her healing and backed away still holding Molag Bal's mace. "I'm a Breton you arse. You're lucky to be alive today. Find a better way to live, Mathon. Picking on the weak and helpless? That's Molag Bal's way. If you died today and had to justify your life to Shor, what would you say?"

He looked down and said nothing.

"I'm taking your sword, so you're not tempted to come after me. Pray that we do not cross paths again."

He nodded his head a little and held his hands up. "I wouldn't come after you for all the silver in Markarth. Where did that mace come from?"

"I'm a mage. I conjured it," lied Daenerys. She wasn't sure if she believed him about not coming after her, but she wasn't going to kill him, so she turned and walked away. She listened with all her werewolf senses, but Mathon was not following her.

Once she turned the corner, she hurriedly untied and unrolled the pelts she was carrying and rolled the ebony mace and Mathon's sword back up with the other weapons. She jogged to the next intersection and then started walking away. Behind her she could hear Mathon pounding on the door of the establishment that he'd been tossed out of. She wasn't at all sure that sparing his life was the right thing to do. He had been going to rob her, maybe rape her, but she wasn't sending any more souls to Molag Bal. She walked quickly but did not run. She made several random turns and had to backtrack when she almost exited onto the plaza. She was several blocks away from where the fight had taken place when she passed a pair of Markarth guards. They looked at her, but merely watched her pass as she went on her way.

Eventually, she made it back to the house of Molag Bal where she unwrapped her package and removed the damn mace. She tried testing it to see if it would return to her hand by pretending to fight without a weapon, but the mace remained where she dropped it just like any normal mace would do. She had rope and could tie it up, but it hadn't flown to her. It had just teleported into her hand when she needed a weapon. She considered taking it to the temple of Dibella and letting them deal with it, but they had made it clear they weren't going to help her. Having no other options, she shut it inside a chest and left it in the house again. If she could just avoid getting attacked, it would hopefully stay put for long enough for her to get some armor and get out of Markarth.

She took a much longer route to get to the foreign quarter. She had plenty of time and no desire to be anywhere close to where she encountered Mathon just in case he didn't keep his mouth shut. She managed to cross the city without getting into a fight or stopped by the guard which was progress.

Daenerys was surprised to find that Ghorza gra-Bagol was a female orc. She was more grey than green, but her flat nose and tusks marked her as an Orsimer. Ghorza stood a full head taller than her with bulging arm muscles larger than most male Nords. She was berating her apprentice, a young Imperial as Daenerys approached.

"Tacitus? What is this?"

"Uh, a nail?" The boy didn't even meet her eyes. He looked down at his feet as he answered her.

"Is that what you call it? In the Legion we would have called it useless. Look how brittle the metal is! Useless! Do it again and this time heat the metal all the way through."

"Yes, Ghorza!" The boy hurried away.

Ghorza turned to her. "And what do you want? I don't buy pelts. They have to be cured first before I work with them. You'll get more for those as rugs anyway."

Daenerys shrugged off her bundle of pelts and placed them on a nearby bench. "Then I'll sell the pelts elsewhere, but I'm here for business. I have weapons for sell, and I want to buy armor."

"Well, that's different. Let's see these weapons."

She untied the bundle and revealed the weapons she'd gathered: two iron daggers, an iron war axe, an iron mace, and the sword she'd acquired from Mathon. She laid the bow on top of them. "I have a shield to go with them, banded iron, but it was a bit much to carry."

Ghorza picked them up and examined them. "Decent work, considering they're iron. Better than Tacitus could manage, but I'm not really interested. I usually work in steel. I don't get a lot of customers for this crap. I'll give you twenty septims for the iron weapons. I'm not interested in the bow."

"Twenty? You could melt them down for twenty."

Ghorza shrugged. "That's exactly what I plan to do with them. Go sell them elsewhere if you can. You'll get more. Now this sword? This is good steel. My brother made this. He makes weapons for the jarl. I hope you didn't kill a guard for it.

"I didn't kill anyone for it." Mathon the cheater was a guard? Or had he just acquired the swords somewhere?

Ghorza shrugged. "I'll take your word for it. Now, this sword needs sharpening, but I'll give you twenty septims for it. Now, what kind of armor do you want?"

"Leather armor." Although that was looking to be out of her price range now.

"A full set of leather will run you 300 septims. You got that much?"

Daenerys shook her head. "No." Even if she could sell Vigilant Tyr's enchanted robe for anything close to what it was worth, she still wouldn't have that much. "Thank you for your time." She put the weapons back inside the pelts and rolled them up.

Ghorza sighed, "Hey, Breton. You can probably get more for the iron weapons and other stuff at Arnleif and Sons on the plaza. They'll buy and sell anything from anyone. You could probably pick up some used fur or hide armor at Arnleif and Sons as well."

"I may do that," said Daenerys just to be polite. Either fur or hide armor would just make her look like a Reacherwoman. She took her rolled-up furs and weapons and left.

Daenerys was frustrated. She was basically starting all over in a city that hated her. She was going to have to give up on leather armor at least for now. She was also going to have to brave the plaza. She spent some time looking through second-hand clothing stores and she found some robes and a hood. They weren't enchanted and offered no protection, but with the hood up her hair was hidden and her eyes were shadowed. With the addition of a staff she at least looked like a proper mage. Nords distrusted mages in general, but they did respect them. It wasn't what she wanted, but it would have to do.

Dressed as a mage she returned to the plaza with her bundle balanced on her shoulders. She noticed two pairs of Markarth Guards walking about. She could see them tracking her, but they didn't stop her. Most of the Nords scowled at her, but they also made way for her. She felt foolish for all the time she had wasted. She should have done this sooner.

With a name like Arnleif and Sons, Daenerys expected to see a father and son working there. Instead a Nord woman with a peculiar Redguard cap was running the store. Daenerys didn't ask questions about if she was the owner or just an assistant. She just unrolled her pelts and they haggled over the prices. Ghorza was right. The prices she received were much better than in the foreigner's quarter. They also had hide armor, fur, and some leather that was actually meant to be used as padding underneath steel plate. Some of the fur armor was in her size, but she turned it down. What she received wouldn't be enough to buy the leather armor she wanted, but it was a good start.

.oOo.

The Temple of Talos was the other large building on the central island. It felt more like a mausoleum. Two large doors opened on a stairway that lead down to a large central chamber. A statue of Talos slaying a snake twice the size of a man filled the chamber. She wished she had asked Nura Snow-Shod about the meaning of the statue when she had the chance. Despite the worship of Talos being banned and Thalmor present in the city, lit candles and offerings lay scattered around the feet of the statue. Maybe she should have suggested another meeting place. While this place was deserted now, people obviously came here. She hadn't seen anyone watching the place, but she knew that it was risky to be here. However, despite all that she felt hopeful. So far Markarth had been one disaster after another, or perhaps one god after another. She'd gone from Sanguine to Dibella to Molag Bal. Now here she was at the Shrine of Talos. Was this a sign? Grandfather had told her to trust in the gods. Maybe, she just needed to have a little faith. She knelt before the statue and prayed to Talos.

She wasn't really sure how to pray. The gods in Essos only cared for the wealthy, and the gods of Westeros had never been her gods. Most people seemed to pray for miracles. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that Talos would gift her armor or teleport her back to Riften. She settled for just sharing her frustrations, talking to Talos in her head as if he were a friend. She also asked him for guidance, but she didn't feel any sudden inspiration. Although she did feel better for whatever reason.

When the temple door opened, she rolled to her feet. She moved to the side of the chamber so she wouldn't be seen immediately. From the sound of the footsteps, it was only one person. Her werewolf senses said male, but it wasn't until the man reached the bottom of the steps that she recognized him as Eltrys. "I was beginning to wonder if you would even show."

Eltrys laughed. "I got here as quickly as I could. Well, you certainly look like a mage now. That's good. You're dangerous looking. You'll do."

"I'll do?" asked Daenerys. "Senna was short on details. What are we investigating? More importantly, how much am I going to get paid?"

"Pay? Well now, I've never hired a mercenary before. How about fifty septims a day?"

The way he asked that question told Daenerys that Eltrys was even more well off than she thought. No one who had to save every coin could ever be that flippant about money or bargain so poorly. Fifty septims a day was more than she paid her mercenaries to fight dragons. To be fair, she hired them long-term and paid their food and board. She was going to take advantage of that gullibility. She almost felt guilty about it, but she had a number she needed to reach, and that number was three hundred septims. Besides, she had just prayed to Talos. Maybe Eltrys and his fat purse was the answer to her prayers. "I usually get paid by the job, so tell me what you want first, then we'll finalize the price."

"Okay, I'm sorry to drag you into Markarth's problems, but things have been getting worse and worse for the past year. That attack in the market yesterday… I'm just fed up. I want answers. So does everyone in this city. A man goes crazy in the market. Everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent. Guards do nothing. Nothing but clean up the mess and blame every Breton in Markarth. This has been going on for years, and all I've been able to find is murder and blood. We need to do what the guard won't. I want, no, I need to find answers.

"This all started when I was a boy. My father owned one of the mines. Rare for anyone who isn't a Nord. He was killed. Guards said it was just a madman, but everyone knew the murderer was a member of the Forsworn. I've been trying to find out why ever since. Gotten nowhere so far, and then I got married, and things have been getting a lot worse this past year. I have a child of my own on the way. I swore I was going to just give up, for my child's sake, but it's like my father's ghost is haunting me. Asking me, 'Why?'"

Daenerys didn't think the mystery was that hard to unravel. Eltrys was just blind because he was a rich Breton. Ulfric Stormcloak killed every Reachman in Markarth. They were driven out and became the Forsworn. Now they wanted revenge. The Forsworn attacked the Nords, and the Nords struck back against the Bretons because they couldn't tell the difference between a Reachman and a Breton. Not to mention that any mysterious death was now rolled into that. If she had killed Mathon in the alleyway that would have probably been blamed on the Forsworn and not a robbery gone bad. To be fair to Eltrys, his father's death did not fit that pattern. He may have been a Breton, but he'd been a wealthy mine owner. She doubted that investigating anything happening today would solve what happened when Eltrys was a child. However, it didn't really matter if this was a wild goose chase or not. She needed the money. "Very well, you think there is something more to it. How do you propose going about finding out?"

"We research each death. We'll start with the most recent one first. The woman who was struck down in the marketplace. Her name was Margret and she's not from Markarth. We can start at the Silver-Blood Inn. Visitors to the city usually stay there."

Daenerys really didn't want to return to the Silver-Blood Inn. While she was wearing a hood now that hid her face somewhat, how many short female mages were there in Markarth? The innkeeper's wife, Frabbi, would probably recognize her. Would she be concerned that Vigilant Tyr never returned to his room? She couldn't tell the truth and would prefer not to lie, but for fifty septims a day she was willing to take some risks. "Is Margret your only lead?"

"No. We can also investigate her murderer. His name was Weylin he used to work for me down at the smelter casting ingots. I never knew much about him, except he lived in the Warrens, like most of the other workers."

Daenerys smiled. That would certainly be safer. "Very well, we can investigate this murder. Now, two Bretons poking our noses around Markarth? That's risky. I'll accept your fifty septims a day, but I want a one-week minimum paid upfront. If it takes more than one week, you can pay me daily." And more importantly, she could get her armor made.

"That's more than I have on me and I won't pay you all upfront. Two hundred now and the rest upon completion."

Two hundred plus what she had on her would pay for leather armor from Ghorza gra-Bagol. There was certainly some risk involved poking their nose into things, but Eltrys wasn't a poor man. He had wealth and status. He could get away with asking questions. All she had to do was threaten anyone who caused him trouble. She doubted there was anything to find, so he would probably give up after a few days. "Agreed. Two hundred septims now. Fifty septims per day, and a minimum of three hundred and fifty septims." She offered her hand.

Eltrys clasped it. "Agreed." He took out his purse and counted out two hundred septims to her. There was still quite a bit left in his purse.

Daenerys pocked the money and smiled at him. "Very well, boss. Where are we going first?"