Chapter Four

Jiub wakes up in a fog. Actually, he wakes up in a room in the club, just like he has for the past several days, but when he goes outside he is in a fog. A fog so thick that he can't even see the ground he is standing on. He can see Big Helende, or at least her outline, a silhouette in the light of the doorway. If she shuts the door he might not find his way back in.

"Well," she says, "there will be no boat to Tel Mora this morning. Maybe you can go this afternoon."

Tel Mora is a small town on an island north of the city. The town is named for the tower of Mistress Dratha, also called Tel Mora. Dratha is a Telvanni magelord, a member of the ruling council, and a radical feminist. Helende has warned Jiub to stay well clear of the tower. Men are allowed on the island to trade with the merchants in the town, but are not welcome visitors in Dratha's tower. A magelord is uniquely qualified in regards to letting you know when you are unwelcome. He will keep that in mind when he gets there, if the fog ever clears.

xxx

In Tel Mora there is an inn, called The Covenant. Berwen, an attractive Bosmer who runs a trader's shop, sits at the counter disconsolate. Her friend Thaeril, proprietor of the inn, is wishing she had some way to cheer her up. "What about just hiring someone from the fighter's guild?"

"I sent a message down to Wolverine Hall. They are probably going to charge an arm and a leg though, and you know why."

Thaeril flushed crimson. "That was not my fault."

"I know. You did serve the drunken lout the sujamma, but it's his own fault that he tried to storm the tower."

"I don't think he was really storming the tower, and he wasn't a lout. He was a nice guy."

Berwen grins. "Aren't they all?"

"Well, maybe we just can't be too picky. Sometimes I wish that Mistress Dratha would ease up a little bit on the 'no manlings' crusade."

"Sometimes. Like now. After your drunken but still a gentleman guest got himself incinerated I know the fighter's guild is going to charge me extra."

"They could always send a woman."

"I'm sure they will, but they'll still charge me a premium. A 'specialty contract,' they'll say. They're in their guild hall right now saying" Berwin deepens her voice and adds a mocking tone, "'Can't just send the next up for that job.' Special circumstances, extra charge, and just as likely the 'next man' is actually a woman anyway."

"So just how did this thing end up in your storeroom?"

"He's not a thing. Well, I guess he is, now. He came in looking for a curative potion, which he obviously needed. I tried to send him to the healers, but he said there wasn't time and I believed him."

"Well, yeah. Obviously that was true."

"Yeah. I ran upstairs to get the potion, and he followed me. That was fine. I even gave it to him without making him pay first."

"You gave it to him and it didn't work?"

"Nope. He drinks it, and next thing I know it's like he was, I dunno, melting. Everything sort of sagged, and his eyes got this dull look." She shudders. "I ducked for the stairs, pulled over a stack of crates to slow him down, and got out of there."

"Maybe the guards..."

"No. They say that this is 'the risks of doing business with men.' Dratha's orders."

"At least you can keep me company." Thaeril pours them each a fresh cup of brewed saltrice.

xxx

Caius sits on the edge of his bed. The scantly furnished hovel offers few options. Hunter Nine Toes paces back and forth, as Argonians do, in the limited space. "He was attacked by an assassin?" Caius asks.

"Apparently he has been attacked three times. Once even before he checked in." Nine Toes pauses as he turns in his pacing. "He neglected to tell you that."

"Yes. Arvil Bren is far from the best operative ever to come down the line. Leaves out critical information, then blunders around the town and blows my cover."

"He is learning. He was much more circumspect on this trip."

"Yeah, and Hibasi is good with a secret or she wouldn't be mastermind of the local thieves, so no harm done. This Jiub is a bigger problem." The Argonian's scaly skin shifts colors, showing embarrassment. "Not your fault Nine Toes. We need more of a presence in Telvanni territory, but look what the empire is sending us to work with. We'll just have to pick up his trail when he comes back."

"You think he will come back?"

"You never know. He might take it into his head to report like he was supposed to. Even if he doesn't, the island isn't that big. He'll turn up."

"Do you think he is also being targeted by the Dark Brotherhood?"

"Yesterday I'd have scoffed at that idea. He just got off a prison transport, in what the empire considers a backwater. Who would send assassins after him?"

"But today we know they are after another prisoner just released off the boat."

"Yes. So maybe. If the Dark Brotherhood is after Jiub we'll probably never hear from him. I don't know what would be more strange; why would they be after two released prisoners, or why would they only be after one of them?"

xxx

The local thieves guild mastermind, Hibasi, is visiting the nearby fortress of the Imperial Legions, Fort Moonmoth. It seems an odd place for a thief, but the local commander, Larrius Varro, employs some unusual methods in law enforcement. Hibasi has done some work for him before, and when he sent word that he wanted to see her, privately, she chose to answer the summons. He pays well enough.

She wanders through the public areas of the fort, noting that the watchful eyes of the guards never leave her. Too many Khajiit turn to thievery, she thinks regretfully. Makes everyone so suspicious that the job is so much harder than it needs to be. At the apothecary's shop table she slides a potion up her sleeve, swapping it for an empty bottle, just for practice.

Larrius Varro emerges from the barracks and she catches his eye. They meet on the battlements of the fortress, both enjoying the view. Varro has possibly found the man for his part of the job. She has found the man for her part. She leaves, apparently wandering with as little purpose as she arrived with. On her way out she returns the stolen potion. She doesn't want to cause any tightening of the already challenging security.

xxx

The fog lifts in the afternoon, becoming a low cloud that shrouds the rooftops and high points of Sadrith Mora, but allows for navigation of the waterways. Jiub catches a boat bound for Tel Mora.

Big Helende and Muriel have 'fixed' the scar on his face to make him less recognizable. Instead of the furrow from brow to chin left by a blade, artfully applied makeup gives the impression that he was badly burned, the puckering scar covering the entire right side of his face. The women had been quite pleased with themselves.

He felt even uglier...because of course he was even uglier. They had both laughed about his discomfort. The old scar had not been enough to prevent him from enjoying his stay at Dirty Muriel's Cornerclub, so they didn't really see it as a problem. If he stayed around long enough maybe he wouldn't either. With all the women of Tel Mora hating men anyway it's not like being ugly would make any difference today.

The boat docks at Tel Mora. Sure enough, the guard is a woman, and surly. Two passengers, both men, leave the boat. The guard warns them both to stay clear of the tower. Jiub tells the guard he is just doing some trading and understands about the tower.

The other man is recognized by the guard and has heard the warning before. He is a messenger and hurries by with a brief nod. His intention is to catch the same boat he came in on and be back in Sadrith Mora by nightfall. Jiub shambles up the dock more slowly; the walk of a down on his luck trader forced into an unusual corner of Vvardenfell in desperate search of a bargain.

Berwin's shop is locked tight, and the messenger is frustrated. A passing guard directs him to the nearby inn. He hopes the delay will not prevent him catching the boat.

Jiub sees the messenger's difficulties and considers the locked door from a distance. It is in very plain sight, and the oddity of a man in the town has way too much of the attention of the guards fixed on him. He recognizes that his chances of picking the lock on that door without being caught are beyond slim. With a shrug he heads for the inn as well.

As Jiub ducks through the doorway into the inn the messenger is on his way out. The bid he delivered was a take it or leave it offer so he did not have to dither around with any negotiation. Berwin has refused the bid from the fighter's guild, but is considering chasing the messenger down and telling him she changed her mind. As high as their price is, she can't afford to just leave her shop shuttered either.

"Are you the trader?" Jiub asks her.

"I was," she says bitterly. "We're closed right now."

"I saw that."

"There's a monster in the shop, so it's closed. Sorry." She heads back towards the bar, thinking that something stronger than saltrice might be in order. It's five o'clock somewhere, as the bards would say.

Jiub takes the stool to her right, showing his good side. "Maybe I can help you, then you can open your store and maybe I can get a good deal?"

She lets him into the store. He is surprised that the monster is still in the upstairs storage room until he recognizes that it is too clumsy to climb over the fallen crates. He also recognizes that the creature used to be a man. He borrows a spear from the trader's inventory and dispatches the creature by stabbing it over the crates. When it falls he leaves the spear.

She is waiting on the stairs outside.

"You didn't tell me about the disease," he says when he comes out. "That was a man. What did he catch?"

"How should I know?"

"Is it contagious?"

"I hope not." He's angry. And of course worried. She's angry because he left the corpse in the shop. "You said you'd get rid of the monster!"

"It's dead!"

"If you want to make a deal I'll make you a deal...once you get that corpse out of there."

"I'm not touching that thing. You're on your own." He storms off towards the docks. The piece of alchemy apparatus that Helende sent him for is inside his coat. He just hopes he can make it to a healer in time if he has caught whatever the creature in the shop had. The sail back to Sadrith Mora seems to drag on forever.

The healer at the Imperial chapel in Wolverine Hall clucks over him like a hen. "That sounds like corprus disease," he says. "Incurable, but fortunately not very contagious. You were smart not to handle the body, though maybe stupid to fight it in the first place."

Jiub is glad for the news that he doesn't have the disease. He's also glad that he managed to catch a boat out of Tel Mora before the rumor of his possible exposure spread to the docks. Being quarantined on the small island when the trader discovered that the most expensive thing in her inventory was missing would not have been pretty.

Back at Dirty Muriel's Big Helende laughs her booming laugh when he tells her the story and hands over the goods. "Serves the wench right," is all she has to say in closing the assignment.

Chapter Five

"I have another job for you," Helende says as she opens the door to his room. "You should probably get dressed first though." Jiub knows that his stay at Dirty Muriel's is not an all expenses paid vacation. Still, it would be nice if the boss would at least knock.

When he reaches the corner that Helende calls her "office" he is surprised to see a new face. By the extravagant robe Jiub tentatively identifies him as a mage, and by appearance he identifies him as an Imperial straight out of Cyrodiil. Helede introduces him as a battlemage provided by the mage's guild to improve security; Natalinus Flavonius. The mage apparently understands that providing Helende with privacy is part of his assignment, and he makes himself scarce.

"I need to pay for that guy," Helende says.

"How much does he cost?"

"His pay isn't important. The club makes more than enough to cover him; to cover ten more like him. But the guild charges a fee for assigning him the job. That's the hard part. They need some ebony, and since we aren't exactly known for being squeamish about the law they took this opportunity to get some. To have us get them some, I should say."

Trading in ebony is illegal, and Jiub knows it. All ebony has been claimed by the emperor. Vvardenfell though is rich in ebony, and he has no doubt there are smugglers. "So, are we trafficking in ebony?" He has hope, briefly, that this is as simple a task as going to pick some up from some associate. Very briefly.

"No. The Cammona Tong has ebony smuggling locked up. The Hlaalu hold the production license on the mines at Caldera, and what gets pilfered is slipped to their lackeys for smuggling out. So we need to steal some, either from the Hlaalu or the Cammona Tong. I'd say the most vulnerable point is at the dock the smugglers use to load it off the island."

"And of course you know where this dock is..."

"Yes."

"...and it's in Hlaalu territory."

"Yes, unfortunately. It's probably still hot for you over there, but there's no one else I can send, really. Once the ebony is handed off the Hlaaalu aren't going to be guarding it anyway. You'll only have to worry about stealing it from the smugglers. Cammona Tong will be a lot easier for you to approach than they would be for anyone else, since you are Dunmer."

Jiub shrugs. "The only hard part is getting there."

"I've arranged to smuggle you into Hla Oad, and back out, as part of a boat crew. Nothing to it. Hibasi has a plan afoot for getting the law off your case over there, by the way. Just be patient."

xxx

Sitting at a table in a public house in Caldera Caius Cosades doesn't look anything like the shriveled old man known in Balmora. Larrius Varro pushes away an empty plate. "Delicious," he says, "but I suppose we need to get down to business."

"There's time for desert, but yes, we do," Caius replies.

"Do you think your man can pull this off?" Varro asks the spymaster.

"He is surprisingly resourceful. It's a challenge though. You are clear on the plan if he is caught?"

"Of course. As long as he gets clear of the city there won't be any problem at all. The legion will take over the prisoner and I'll arrange for his escape from Fort Moonmoth, and list him as killed in the attempt."

"That will work. In the uproar of legal wrangling afterwards the death of the suspect won't be mourned...or questioned much."

"If the Hlaalu catch him he'll have to be killed in their jail before he can be questioned. I have a man in place. Is that an outcome you can live with?"

"Certainly not my preference, but if Arvil Bren has to die for the good of the empire then that's what he has to do."

xxx

Sharing a simpler lunch, Hibasi sits with Phane Rielle in the South Wall Cornerclub in Balmora. "So, you want Vadusa Sathryon and Madale Thirith implicated in the Seyda Neen Excise Warehouse robbery?" the forger asks.

"Right," Hibasi says with a purr in her voice.

""How do you plan to get Varro to go along with that?"

"Do you know why guar herders never let the guar graze on a hillside?" The forger shakes his head. "Because a ball of dung rolling downhill gets nothing but bigger. Varro wants this evidence planted to take down the magistrate, who we all know is corrupt. But once that ball starts rolling downhill any other dung it picks up along the way is just part of the package, and he can't really do anything about it. Jiub has a part to play in this, and he needs some reward for his efforts."

The forger from Cyrodiil, who doubles as the bartender at the club, nods his head, even though the references to guar dung are not exactly his style of metaphor. "So, is there anything else you want to throw in before I get started?"

"No," Hibasi says. "That should do it. We can't completely clean every slate in one go."

xxx

The ship eases to the docks at Hla Oad, and with a final thump against the pier the voyage ends. Jiub mixes in with the crew as they leave the ship, but instead of joining them for the ritualistic pub crawl that marks any arrival in port he slips out of town.

It does not take him long to find the secluded pier, or the trail that connects it to a cave in the swamp. Finding a suitable place to keep watch on the cave is more challenging, but the hills are rugged and there are places to be had. He makes his spare camp. He lights no fire.

Helende's information has passed through many hands, but it's accurate enough. He waits a day longer than expected, but eventually he sees two well laden pack guar being lead to the cave. Men and mer accompany the guar, and others come out of the cave. The guar are relieved of what appears to be a compact but heavy cargo, then lead away.

The two Dunmer who came out of the cave go back in, and a Redguard who accompanies them goes back in as well after clearing all signs of the guars' passage. This task is made easier by the shallow marsh that runs almost all the way to the mouth of the cave. Jiub again beds down on hard rock. It should not be long now.

The next morning the rising sun glints off a sail near the horizon. From his ledge Jiub watches the ship approach. Once he is sure it is headed into the cove where the secluded pier waits he slips down from the ledge and down the slope into the swamps. There are preparations to make.

Through the course of the day cargo comes off the ship, and other cargo goes on. There are no guar; everything is carried by men. Nordsmen from the ship; the two elves from the cave offer no assistance, nor does their Redguard companion. They do make a couple trips down to the dock, but only to speak with the apparent captain of the ship. Lurking silently in the shadows Jiub bides his time.

Two Nords carrying a small but heavy chest between them are just about to step clear of the marshwater when one of them stumbles awkwardly. The chest crashes to the ground and the wood gives way spilling the contents. Jiub steps out as if he is coming from the ship. "Oafs," he says with disdain as he steps in to help gather the fallen stone into the broken chest.

The Nord who did not stumble delivers a hard elbow into the ribs of his shipmate. That worthy grumbles, "Caught my foot on some sort of vine."

"Vines don't grow in the water, stupid," says his not much more knowledgeable companion.

"Tree root, probably," Jiub says. "You need to be more careful." The two sailors are relieved to get back in motion towards their ship. The chest is much harder to manage, being broken on one end. It would be even harder if Jiub had not managed to slip four good sized chunks of obsidian into the reeds at the water's edge.

He retrieves them, and his rope snare, and disappears back to Hla Oad. By the time the inventory aboard the smuggler's ship is taken and found short he is safely away on the coaster bound for Sadrith Mora. The crew of that worthy vessel is more than happy with the limited trading accomplished in Hla Oad. Smuggling Jiub has paid better anyway, and everyone loves cargo that loads itself.

Chapter Six

The Bosmer sits on a stool at the bar in Dirty Muriel's Cornerclub with a wide grin spreading from one pointed ear to the other. He knows that the very cute elf who is flirting with him is a pro, and that the overpriced drinks that he is buying for her are really water poured by the adept bartender; this isn't his first rodeo. He's letting himself enjoy the fantasy.

Then he sees his own job come through the door. He excuses himself, regretfully, and again enjoys the fantasy that the girl's artful pout shows real regret at his departure. He catches up to Jiub before he disappears through a door leading deeper into the inn.

Jiub recognizes Arathor; the scout is from Balmora, an associate of Habasi. They exchange the signs of recognition and mutual respect shared among members of the guild. Arathor is surprised at the rank associated with Jiub's signals. The Dunmer has done well for himself in Sadrith Mora.

Jiub is staying out of Balmora specifically, and Hlaalu territory generally, to avoid the heat. Arathor tells him that there are two sides to that heat; Imperial authorities and House Hlaalu lawmen. There's no real evidence that he has done anything wrong, it's just bad timing. He arrived on a prisoner transport and was released, in fairly short order the customs house where he arrived was robbed, and afterwards no one could really account for where he had gotten to. The authorities want to question him, and since he actually did plan and execute the robbery he has no particularly good answers to give them.

Arathor tells him that Hibasi has a plan that will steer suspicion away from him, but there is a part of the plan that she needs him to make work. He needs to be in Balmora, and though the timing is delicate it is somewhat uncertain. He needs to hole up at the South Wall Cornerclub where he will be available. Arathor can sneak him into the city.

Jiub has made friends here, and wants to take the time for a round of proper goodbyes. Arathor has no complaints, and heads back to the bar.

xxx

The point where the two branches of law enforcement converge, in Hlaalu territory, is at the office of the Imperial Magistrate for the Balmora District, occupied by Nolus Atrius. Nolus is a petty noble in House Hlaalu, which causes some concern among the Imperial officials since it seems an obvious source of bias in the judge. However, anyone in the district who has the education and temprament to serve would be likely join the house. Weaving together Imperial administration with the existing Dunmer government forms creates complexities that are difficult, or perhaps impossible, to unravel.

Nolus Atrius presents more than a complexity. His corruption of the office is common knowledge in the city; almost legendary. House Hlaalu considers the hiring of thugs and enforcers to intimidate their rivals to be a normal business practice, and thugs who have performed good service for the house are often given inexplicable passes in Atrius's court. In some cases witnesses against them who appeared to testify have found themselves jailed while the defendant has walked free. It isn't correct to say that there is no justice in Balmora, it is available for purchase in ample supply, and Atrius is its merchant.

The captain of the Imperial guards at Fort Moonmoth is Larrius Varro. His disgust with the magistrate knows no bounds. His frustration with his superiors, who administer the island of Vvardenfell from their distant headquarters in Cyrodiil, wears on him. His only friend is Caius Cosades, who is unfortunately the head of the emperor's secret police. Caius, among other things, is tasked with keeping Varro doing his job, and keeping him from doing more than his job. Caius reminds him frequently that Varro is a law enforcer, not a judge.

Caius seems different lately though. Varro wonders if there has been some change in the political winds blowing from Imperial City, or if Caius is starting to go native. To Varro, the Empire seems more interested in order than justice, and as long as the Balmora district is productive and peaceful the local authorities trampling on the admittedly reluctant citizens of the empire that are in their charge has not caused any waves. Caius though; the situation is bothering Caius. Now some sort of breakdown in the spymaster's own ranks has presented Varro with an opportunity to step outside the lines, and he is grabbing it.

xxx

"Sweet sweet sugar for you," Hibasi says as Caius opens his door. She hands him a vial of skooma, which he quickly palms out of sight. He looks quickly to be sure no one has seen, but at his end of the meanest street in the city there are no passers by. "This one needs to speak to you," the Khajiit hisses. "You could offer to share the fine gift I have brought you." Caius steps aside, pushing the door fully open for her to enter. Neither intends to smoke the skooma...at least not then.

Hibasi sees no merit in beating around the bush. "You are a spy, and master of spies," she says.

Caius takes the direct approach in stride, and responds in kind. "You are a thief, and a master of thieves...but not the master of thieves." He is reminding her that Gentleman Jim is respected as the head of thieves associated with the guild in Vvardenfell, and that she has been warned off from the investigation of Caius Cosades. She did stop her investigations, but that doesn't mean that she has forgotten the fruit it had already produced.

"There is another," she says, "and he is your friend. This one would be your friend also."

Caius weighs the apparent offer. He also weighs the unspoken threat. The more widely he is known the less valuable he becomes. But the wily Khajiit already knows, so the skooma is in the pipe, as they say. "I certainly need more friends," he says. "Discrete friends."

"Oh, this one can be very discrete," Hibasi purrs. "This one loves the secrets; to have them, and to keep them. Your secrets are yours, and Hibasi will always keep them, but some secrets are Hibasi's. Some of those can be shared. Your emperor has sent you two new spies, but only one has arrived. Hibasi has a secret about the other."

Caius doesn't respond. It takes iron will to keep his face neutral. His missing agent has been his biggest problem for several weeks. "You want to share this secret?"

"Hibasi may want to share. Perhaps a trade? But first; this operative meant for you has chosen to be mine instead. He belongs me, and to your good friend who does not want Hibasi sniffing your trails. We must make sure no harm comes to him. Hibasi stopped investigating you, but could not help noticing those who have been seeking her operative. Some are very sly, like the Argonian that Hibasi admires greatly, and others less sly. They are a secret Hibasi will keep for you also. Surely they have something better to do than seek Hibasi's operative?"

"They certainly will have something better to do if you tell me where he is. Many things that have nothing to do with you, or him."

"Hibasi does not know exactly, at this moment, where he is. But she has another operative with him and they will be reporting in. He can speak to you when he comes to town, if you like, and perhaps he will trade secrets with you that are his to share. But you will not take him from us."

"That seems fair." Caius is happy to take that deal. The Dunmer has been, in his mind, a loose cannon. This may not bring him cleanly under control, but Habasi can be worked with as an intermediary. Since she caught on to Nine Toes' surveillance she is obviously formidable herself, and it is certainly better to have her as a friend than as an enemy.

xxx

There is an unpleasant surprise waiting for her when Hibasi returns to the South Wall Cornerclub. Sottilde the Nordwoman who serves as a broker for the goods that sometimes appear without provenance in the hands of the guild membership is sprawled on a chair with her back against a table. Her robes are stained with blood; obviously her own. The Argonian, who translates the series of clicks and hisses he uses for a name as Only-He-Stands-There, is tending to her face.

The proprietor of the club, her ranking lieutenant, draws her away with a promise of answers. She is grateful that she doesn't have to interrupt the healer in his work because she needs to know what has happened. Bacola starts with a two word summary that really says it all; Cammona Tong.

"Who, specifically?" She is hissing with fury and her claws are extending, seemingly of their own accord.

"Marasa Aren. That broker who hangs around at the council club. And the big smith that works the door. Sottilde was passing in the street and they jumped her. When the guards broke it up the smith told them she had tried to go in, and when he suggested she wouldn't find it comfortable for outlanders she started the fight. Of course all the witnesses, including plenty who were probably inside and didn't see anything at all, backed him up. She was lucky to get out of there with a petty bribe for the guards and a broken nose."

Hibasi nods. She retracts her claws. She is no less furious, but she needs the fury to be cold, not the white hot heat she was feeling. The Cammona Tong is too well connected to take on face to face.
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