Chapter 4: Zeela

Zayden awoke from his sleep to the feeling of a heavy weight sitting atop his outstretched legs. The courtyard was dimly lit this late at night and before him, straddled atop his thighs, was a cloaked hooded figure dressed in dark colored clothes. Before Zayden could manage any sort of sound the figure outstretched a slender arm and covered his mouth.

"Keep quiet," the voice commanded in a whisper. It was a woman, that much was now clear. "I am a poor, starving young orphan that will gut you from nuts to neck if you make any loud noises. Understand?" Zayden glanced down toward his crotch to see, glinting in the lamp light, a stout dagger, its tip hovering inches above his groin. He gave a single silent nod of his head. "Good. Now, I'm going to take my hand off your mouth and search your bag. Remember, if you make any loud noises…" Again Zayden nodded.

The woman did as she said, releasing her hand from Zayden's mouth and began swiftly rummaging through his bag. Within seconds she retrieved the coin pouch, softly jiggling it to confirm its contents. "Feels light. This all you have?" she asked.

"Yes," Zayden whispered back in a cracking voice.

"Pity. I pegged you as an outlander, fresh off the boat, and it seems I was correct. Keep still." The woman returned to fingering through the bag with her left arm, her right hand still keeping the dagger threateningly close to Zayden's privates. He wondered for a moment if he could strike fast, grab her by the wrist or knock the weapon from her hand. But his hands were firmly by his sides and too paralyzed with fear.

"…Who are you?" he whispered at length.

"Shut up," she snapped back. "I told you. I'm an orphan who is going to kill you if you keep acting up." As fear-stricken as Zayden was he thought the explanation seemed fake, almost rehearsed. "Your silver tongue won't talk your way out of this, Imperial," she continued. It is often said, usually in jest, that Imperials possess natural gifts in charisma and mercantile, such things contributing to the rise of the Empire. The effectiveness of such things toward the individual remains largely antidotal and in dispute.

The woman searched for another minute before giving up. "Junk," she spat, "all the rest of it. Well, can't say I didn't try. Well thank you, Imperial stranger, for all your-"

"What's going on over there?" A voice from the other end of the courtyard sounded. Zayden peeked over the woman's right shoulder and saw a Redguard man holding a lamp walking toward the two of them. Zayden opened his mouth to scream but was stopped short when the woman lunged her face forward and clamped her mouth around Zayden's. At the same instant she reached her right arm around his lower back and dropped the knife between it and the wall. She then brought her left hand around the back of his neck, pressing herself against him in a tight embrace.

"I said what's going on?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

The woman broke lip contact and swung her head around, lifting the hood off her head. She revealed her identity in the bright beam of the man's spotlight lamp: a young Dunmer with charcoal colored shoulder length hair. A faint scar marred the left cheek of an otherwise pleasant visage. She quickly put on a convincing look of shock.

"W-What?" she stammered at the Redguard. "Who are you?"

"I'm the one asking questions here. It's the dead of night. What are you two doing here?"

"W-Well, you see, this gentleman and I met earlier this evening and, as it turns out, we really seemed to like each other. He told me to come by here later to meet up again…" She paused to give a giddy chuckle. "I guess I couldn't control myself. Took him by surprise, I think. You know how us young woman get at this age, you know? We just see a handsome man and-"

"Enough!" said the Redguard, who was either not buying the story or was already sick of hearing it. "Keep that behavior in a brothel where it belongs. Get the hell out of here, woman, before I call the guards and have you arrested."

"Y-Yes, sir," the woman whispered, slowly picking herself up and tiptoeing her way to the exit of the courtyard.

Once she was out of sight the Redguard turned his attention to Zayden. "That goes for you, too," he said. "Come dawn you are out of here, and I don't want to see your face back here again. Understood?" Zayden nodded in silence.

The Redguard turned and left the room. Zayden looked around him and noticed that the commotion had awoken some of the others. Everyone was staring at him in bewilderment, most of them angry for haven been woken up. Zayden could say nothing and do nothing but sink lower and cover his head with his own hood. He shifted backwards and felt the handle of the dagger the woman had left behind poking at his spine.

Zayden got barely any more sleep for the remainder of the night. That morning, as the sun first began to peek over the tops of the hills in the east, he was the first to be escorted out of the shelter. The same Redguard from the last night, with a forceful arm and handing him a small loaf of dark bread, practically threw him off the premises. Zayden dashed off down the street, wanting to leave the area as quickly as possible. He soon found a small nook between two buildings and ate his bread alone.

Zayden had been robbed of the very last of his money. What had been hours before enough to last a few days was gone in an instant. Now more than ever he needed work. Caius had recommended the Fighters Guild, but Zayden had no idea where it was.

He began his search much as he did the previous day: asking the Balmora guard. If being an outlander garnered their disdain yesterday, being flat broke made Zayden a pariah. It seemed today the population of the city could smell his poverty and wanted nothing to do with him. It did not take long to logic out why this was the case.

Balmora was often the first place travelers from Seyda Neen went when arriving in Vvardenfell. Most of Balmora's inhabitants are the local Dunmer, who already share a strong cultural distain of outsiders of the homeland. Over time, the people learned to ignore the outlanders outright, believing alienation was the best and easiest method of making them go elsewhere. This forced Zayden to comb the entire city, level by level, street by street, for any indication of where he wanted to go.

Two hours of search left him with nothing but a creeping desperation and a growing hole in his now ravenous stomach. His entire circumstance was starting to unravel Zayden emotionally. Just how much against him was this entire city? Perhaps what Caius said was correct. Perhaps Zayden was truly send to this forsaken continent to die.

"Hello again!" a voice said to Zayden's left. He felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around his left arm. Zayden turned his head to see the reddened Dunmer eyes of the woman from last night inches from his face. Once more he wanted to scream but the woman stopped him with a kiss. A quick peck this time. "Maybe we can find a more private place to talk?" she asked in a faux, cheery tone.

Zayden was too stricken with fright to go anywhere but where the Dunmer lead him. With him firmly locked in her grip, clutching him like a lover for onlookers to see, she lead Zayden on a short walk up the street and down one level to a new courtyard, this one open to the public, empty of people, and hosting many open benches and a few flower beds. She led him to one of the benches and sat the both of them down.

"Did you enjoy that kiss last night?" she asked Zayden mockingly. "And the one I just gave you? I don't give them often, and not without high cost. Your fee is the knife I had to leave behind. Give it back." Zayden remained motionless and said nothing. "Answer me, Imperial."

"I can't give it back," Zayden finally replied. "I couldn't take it with me before they threw me out of the shelter. I doubt they will let me back inside to get it."

"What?!" she hissed. "Damn! No way they will allow me back, either. That knife was made out of silver and very expensive! If you cannot get it back, you are going to pay me back its value!"

"Why? You lost the damn thing while trying to steal from me! Why should I help you?"

"Because, if you do not, I'll make good on my threat from before and slice you in two."

"With what? The knife you lost?"

"Look again, Imperial." Zayden glanced back down to his crotch to see another blade hovering over it, this one tucked inside a sleeve of her left arm. "A thief always comes prepared with more than one weapon."

"Maybe you should carry more 'favorite knives' then, since you seem to lose them often. For that matter, 'thief,' why don't you go and steal the knife back, if you're so haughty to your skills."

The elf tightened her grip on Zayden's arm, bringing the knife tip closer to its target. "Do you have a death wish, Imperial? You're pretty bold for someone about to have their manhood chopped off," she said.

"Well maybe I have no further use for it!" Zayden spat back. A new look of rage flushed over Zayden. The woman cocked an eyebrow in confusion but remained silent. "I know your kind care nothing about outlanders like me," he continued, "but I was brought here less than five days ago and after being imprisoned, being sent to a city where everyone now refuses to speak to me, I think I truly HAVE been sent to this forsaken place to die! Caius and his hopes be damned! I want nothing more to do with this hell! You want to stab me, woman? You want to gut me right here? On this bench? In the middle of this park? Go ahead! Do it and be done with it! I have had enough!"

An odd chill swept through the air of the courtyard. For a moment the both of them remained motionless, their eyes firmly locked onto the others; Zayden's showing fury and the woman's showing a growing sense of confusion. She waited for a sign, anything to show that the man was either insane or bluffing. But nothing of the sort came. And in that moment the joy of her torment the man was lost.

The woman sheathed her wrist blade back up her sleeve and slightly loosened the grip of his arm. "Do you really want to die?" she asked Zayden.

"… No, I don't want to die," he admitted, "but if that is all that awaits me here, whether by starvation or murder, so be it."

The elven woman had seen many things in her sixty years of life: life's beautiful and ugly halves, its good and evil, its highs and lows. Her life as a thief of the Thieves Guild exposed her to much this world had to offer, including people at their lowest points possible. She had seen the look in the eyes of those who had nothing to lose and those who wanted nothing more than to end their miserable lives. And in this Imperial's eyes she did not see that look.

"Do you truly have nothing to live for, Imperial?" the Dunmer enquired. "No one you can call friend? You mentioned a 'Caius?'"

Zayden was finally thrown off guard by the woman's sudden shift in demeanor. The sadism that was present moments ago had vanished. "Caius is- Humph." Zayden scoffed. "Caius is an old drug addicted fool working for the same Empire that sent me to this place. He asked that I 'lead a good life on his behalf,' but only because he wants me to absolve himself of guilt for the things he did in his past. He never asked what I wanted or what I desired! And for a moment I believed him, too. For a moment I thought he actually cared about me. I can see now I was wrong."

"No one else, then?" she then asked. "No friends? Family? A wife?"

"If I had such things in the past they are now lost to my memory. You will think me insane to say this, but by unknown means the details of my past prior to the four days I have been in Vvardenfell are lost. I have no memory of my past… and I desire no future… I will never be able to repay your damned knife. So just kill me now, woman, and be done with it." Zayden closed his eyes and awaited his fate.

Zayden awaited the cut of cold steel to pierce his skin but instead felt a tightening around his arm. When nothing else happened he opened his eyes and turned to the elven woman. She had moved in closer to him and now rested her head on his shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Are you not going to kill me?"

"No, I will not" she replied with a chuckle, her gaze now on a nearby flower bed. "I will not kill you because I don't believe you."

"You think I've made all this up?!"

"I mean your death wish, Imperial. I do not believe you want to die, your story true or not. I've seen many broken people over the years. I've seen true loss in the eyes of others, people truly at their end. And you, sir, do not strike me at someone ready to die."

"And what makes you so sure tha- OW!" Zayden shouted at the prodding touch of the elf's wrist knife into his left thigh. He leapt up off the bench and spun back around to the woman who was now laughing at him. "You thought that was funny, did you?!"

"A man so ready to die yet runs at at gently poke?" she mocked. "Yes, that is quite funny indeed. And it proves my point. If you really wanted to die, Imperial, you would have already drown yourself in the Odai River instead of waiting for a woman to kill you herself. You are upset at your lot in life, that much is certain, but you have no death wish. I think you want to live. But now the question is to what end…"

Zayden was stunned."… What is your name, elf?" he asked at length.

"Zeela," she replied. "And yours?"

"Zayden." Zeela cocked her eyebrow. "I could not remember my real name so Imperial guards gave me one to 'better fit my new home.'"

"I will take your word for it," Zeela said, unbelieving. She paused for another moment to think. "Say…This Caius you spoke of. Was he Caius Cosades?"

"Y-Yes, he was," said Zayden, stunned once again. "You knew him?"

"In a sense. He spent a lot of his time in the South Wall Cornerclub, where the thieves in Balmora meet. He was a big drug fiend, like you mentioned. But he could handle his skooma pretty well, better than any Khajiit. And anyone who judged him of his habit had a tendency to disappear, if you catch my meaning." Whether she was joking or not, Zeela managed to get Zayden to chuckle. "I've known him for years, but only in a distant sense. I always felt he was man with a huge weight on his shoulders, but he never opened up to me or anyone I knew enough to say what. Strange he would open up to you, an outlander. Perhaps he really thought you were important enough to…" Zeela trailed off in thought. "Perhaps…"

"Zeela?"

"Zayden… I think I might have discovered the answer to all our problems: your debt to me, your promise to Caius, and your lack of purpose in life."

"And that would be?" Zayden asked, now also unbelieving.

"You, Imperial, are going to join the Thieves Guild!"

Zayden scoffed at the suggestion. "You toy with me again!" he said. "You expect me to become a criminal to pay back what you lost whilst stealing from me?!"

"Has a bit of a poetic theme to it, does it not?" Zeela laughed.

"It does not!"

"Relax, Imperial. There are more ways than strict theft to be part of the Thieves Guild, but all will be explained in time. For now, though, follow me to the South Wall. There we can met with my boss and have food and drink. I could feel your stomach growling."

"And if I refuse to follow?" Zayden retorted

"Then throw yourself in the river," Zeela replied, "and stop wasting my time. Make your choice."

This time Zeela needed no tight grip nor threat of cutting blades to get Zayden to follow her. Her path led back across the city to the eastern residential half and back to the same street level that Caius Cosades's house was. At the opposite south end of that long street, tucked away in a notch carved into the face of a hill was a building with a set of stairs leading to a roof terrace. The front of the building had no sign displaying its name, only a hanging banner with a design of an armored, eight-legged insect. Zayden would later learn it was a scrib.

Before going through the front entrance Zeela warned Zayden to "Stick close to me and act like you belong here." Before Zayden could ask what that meant Zeela was already stepping inside. The doorway entered into a dimly lit foyer where a Nord woman in a brown robe sat nearby in a small chair. To her right was a small table with a pitcher and cups adorning it. The woman rose to greet Zeela but quickly turned her attention to the man standing beside her.

"He is a potential recruit," explained Zeela. "I think he might be a good racketeer. Is Habasi in?"

"Yes," the Nord replied. "She's downstairs having a drink."

Zeela thank the woman before she and Zayden followed the hallway left, left again, and left once more down stairs to the basement level. The base of the stairs opened up into a cantina with a dark wood bar across the opposite wall, the floor filled with two long narrow tables lined with stools. Only a handful of people were there at the time and it was quick to see that most were either friends to Zeela or fellow thieves for most turned to greet her as she entered.

Zayden followed Zeela to the bar and they each took a seat where an old Breton man with balding white hair and expensive clothing was quick to greet the two. "Welcome back," he said to Zeela as he began to pour beer into a tankard. "Who is your companion? Never seen him around here before."

"New to the island, he claims," said Zeela. "I think we might be able to induct him into our club. Pour him a tankard, the same as mine. As soon as Sugar-Lips is done, we can talk business."

"Who is Sugar-Lips?" Zayden asked.

"Sugar-Lips Habasi. The Khajiit sitting over to our right." She pointed over her shoulder to a female Khajiit clad in white, insect like segmented armor. She had remained so still since his arrival that Zayden did not notice her until not. Not even at the mention of her name did she lift her gaze from the drink in front of her. "Never try to talk to her when she is drinking. She treats drinking like a spiritual ritual, and breaking her concentration is a bad idea." It reminded Zayden of the Argonian's smoking ritualization.

The comment made Zayden wonder what exactly would happen if the ritual was broken but he quickly brushed the thought aside. "Zeela, wait a moment," said Zayden. "You never explained exactly what I would be doing as part of this 'club.'" Zayden took a gulp of his beer and was pleased. Mildly better than what he drank the day before.

"The Thieves Guild," Zeela answered, "does more than simply steal. Though people like Caius would 'officially' deny it, we work in unofficial capacity with the Empire in Morrowind. Criminals and criminality, you see, can be of tremendous use to society if utilized properly. Wanton theft and crime are never good things, of course, and official channels of law enforcement can only do so much. They may act as the face of law and order to the public, but the truth is that to truly defeat a criminal, you must think like a criminal. Become the criminal.

That, Zayden, is what we do. We embrace the thief as a way of life to take on the true threats in this world. One might liken it to thinning out a few cattle to prevent the spread of a disease in a herd. What we do might be 'wrong,' but we protect everyone from much worst things."

"You really sound like you know what you're saying," said Zayden, genuinely impressed.

"I should think so. I've been doing this for nearly fifty years now."

"Fifty years?!" Zayden balked. "Again you jest! You don't look too much younger than I!"

"Has your amnesia caused you to forget elven lifespans? We Dunmer live lives that double yours in years. I am sixty-four years old, Zayden, but I match your equivalent mid-twenties, I suspect."

"But for fifty years you've been thieving?"

"Not the whole time, obviously. And it is not as dangerous as you make it sound. Racketeering is a bit more involved, but thieving beyond the initial, small time game when you start out can really pay off long-term. One good heist can sustain a modest living for a couple of years. Bigger heists can last a decade. In that time you lie low. Maybe leave the province and settle someplace new. Sometimes it is necessary to 'go dark' for a few years, let people forget you ever existed."

"And I am to assume you say this all from experience?" Zayden asked, to which Zeela nodded.

"And if thieving is not to your liking," she continued, "which I believe you have indicated it is, there is always racketeering. The Thieves Guild always needs muscle to root and stomp out petty criminals and brazen upstarts, as well as the real dangers to society; rapists, murders, that sort. That, I think, you could do well."

"Z-Zeela," Zayden cut in. "You clearly speak from skill and experience, and you make this all sound quite glamorous. But with all said and done, this all sounds like the work of thugs." A shallow hush fell over the already quiet room. A few patrons turned to give Zayden sideways glances, looks that were not at all friendly. Zayden continued unaware. "You held me at knife point just yesterday and robbed me of all my money, and now you hold a debt over me over a knife you lost! And you now claim to be the one to offer a solution to my problems? You have only created problems for me from the start! Give me one good reason I should not walk out this room and never come back!"

Without warning the silent Khajiit slammed her empty glass on the bar and shot up from her stool. "Because, Imperial," she said with a venomous tone on her fangs, "Zayden has no choice in the matter. Says I."

Zeela rose from her seat and turned to face Sugar-Lips, she being just as shocked as Zayden. "Habasi," Zeela exclaimed. "You are talking authority in this matter?"

"Yes. Khajiit has heard enough." Sugar-Lips measuredly walked past Zeela and approached Zayden. Her light blue eyes with wide black pupils caused a nervous chill in Zyaden as she looked over the man before him. "Zeela invokes debt upon you, Imperial, and Khajiit seconds it. Debt will be repaid."

"What if I refuse?" Zayden snapped back. "She lost her own knife by no fault of my own! And just who are you, exactly?"

Sugar-Lips leaned in closer, the black of her eyes now narrowing into razor slits, sending the chill through Zayden's spine. "Zayden will repay. Khajiit 'Mastermind' in Balmora. Khajiit have friends all across Vvardenfell and Tamriel. Zayden cannot run from us until debt repaid. Is Khajiit clear?"

Welling up within Zayden, mixing with his chilling fear was a new rising heat of anger. "I don't believe you," he said through a tight jaw.

"Zayden will be free to leave," she then explained. "But Imperial will be followed. Whatever coin Zayden makes, we will come and take it, wherever you are, until debt is paid. We would gladly leave Zayden in the streets without a coin to spare. If Zayden refuses to pay, we hurt him. If refuse again, we hurt again. We not kill Zayden, just make Zayden wish we did."

The Khajiit's threat was finally beginning to sink in. Zayden's eyes darted between her and Zeela, who looked on with a type of smug indifference. "Zayden could, however," Habasi continued, "join Thieves Guild. We give Zayden bed to sleep in, training in our ways, and refuge in South Wall until debt repaid. Once paid, Zayden may leave and we will not follow. Your choice."

"Not much of one," Zayden grumbled. "Live in the streets, constantly stalked, or live like a civilized being… Very well, Khajiit. I will join your guild. For the time being." Sugar-Lips lean back with a chuff of relief, Zeela continuing to look on with a grin poking out the side of her mouth. "So when do you expect this debt repaid?" he then asked.

"Zayden may take a long as needed," Sugar-Lips replied. "But Zayden will first be taught in our ways, by Zeela, until Khajiit feels you are ready."

Zeela flinched at the mention of her name and stepped toward Habasi. "Me, ma'am?" she asked.

The Khajiit met the elf's confused stare. "Yes," she stated, her tone regaining its venom. "Zeela has never lost anything in her service under Khajiit. Yet now Zeela, stealing from Imperial, loses expensive item. Zeela was foolish! Zeela will pay for her foolishness by teaching Imperial. Says I."

Zeela wanted to object but it quickly washed over her that it would be all in vain. Sugar-Lips, once she settled a matter, very seldom changed her position. "Very well," Zeela finally relented. "I will train him."

"Good. Now celebrate Zayden's induction. The Imperial drinks for free tonight. And make sure he drinks enough to regret it the next morning, for he begins training then." Sugar-Lips gave Zeela a knowing wink and grin before retreating through a door behind the bar. Once she had left Zeela turned her now furrowing glare back toward Zayden, who sat with an odd mixture of relief and confusion on his face.

"Congratulations," Zeela told him, flatly. "It looks like I have been made your teacher."

"So it would seem," said Zayden, unable to hold back a chuckle.

"Oh, but do not starting laughing yet, Imperial. You heard Sugar-Lips. Training begins tomorrow, but tonight you drink." Zeela walked behind the bar and produced a small, yellow glass and a fat clay jug. "This is sujamma, a local liquor. It's about as strong as brandy and tastes like ferment tea." She poured a measure of it and placed it in front of Zayden. "You are going to drink this entire jug tonight. When you wake up tomorrow- trust me- you finally will wish you were dead.

When you do, I will begin your training."