II

Arken looked down the street before rounding the corner and proceeding. Upon arriving in Balmora, finding a place to live was surprisingly easy. As it turned out, there was a house that had just gone up for sale before they'd arrived. The former owner was an Orc outlaw that some Fighters Guild adventurer had killed for the bounty on her head. Arken bought the house cheap and made himself at home quickly. He slept in the main room on the ground floor while Ra'Jharra stayed in the storage area upstairs. Over the couple of weeks that followed, the house had begun to fill with valuable items and goods, many of which not necessarily of a legal nature. It hadn't taken them long to gain a good bit of money.

Arken came to a small store and pushed the creaky wooden door open to step through. After closing the door behind him, Arken turned to greet the owner. Ra'Virr was the Khajiit trader of the town of Balmora. He did decent business for the size of his shop and the town. What few people knew was that Ra'Virr was also a decent fence. Ra'Virr would buy anything, legal or not. He even did a little business in the skooma trade. Arken had long ago established a business relationship with Ra'Virr, and both were making some good coin from it.

The Khajiit's tufted ears perked up when he saw Arken, "Ah, good friend, the Dunmer. What can old Ra'Virr do for you today?"

"Glad you asked." Arken smirked mischievously as he pulled a small sack off his back. He set it on a nearby crate and opened it up to reveal a number of silver plates, pitchers, and cups, "What price can you get me for these?"

Ra'Virr's reaction unfortunately didn't surprise Arken. Instead of being happy for the business opportunity, his ears dropped back and he shifted uneasily.

"Ah, yes…well…this one is not sure what he can do for you right now. Business, you see, has been uneasy of late. He doesn't think he can purchase anything for while."

Arken frowned and leaned on the crate, "You're acting a little too shifty for just bad business to be keeping you back. Come clean with me, Ra'Virr. You used to be willing to buy the shirt off my back if I offered it. You can't convince me you're doing yourself any good by not buying what I have.

Ra'Virr frowned and leaned back against the wall behind him, "Tell that to the Legion officer who was poking his paws around this one's store yesterday."

Arken furrowed his brow, "You got searched?"

The Khajiit nodded, "Yes. Fortunately for you, this one had already sold all that you had brought in before the officer arrived. This cannot go on like this, Dralkes. If this one is caught in possession of your stolen goods, it's the dungeons for him. This one cannot buy anything from you until all of the heat is off, and he does not care how long that will take. He would rather lose business than lose freedom."

Arken stood up and crossed his arms, "I've dumped thousands of drakes worth of business in your lap and you're dropping me like a hot ash yam?"

Ra'Virr nodded, "A very hot ash yam, yes. Come back when the heat's off. Now if you'll excuse, unless you have any legal business to transact, then this one would prefer not to be seen in your company."

Arken grabbed the bag of silverware and left the shop in a huff. He was thoroughly displeased with what he was seeing these days. Patrols in the streets had nearly doubled in the last week, and guild fences were starting to turn down purchasing their goods, citing that they were too hot for them. It appeared that the local authorities were starting to take notice that there were thieves in town. Right now, Arken and Ra'Jharra were laying low, staying out of sight and away from the guards. Arken shook his head. It seemed that the predators were overgrazing their prey. They may have gotten themselves into a bind by snatching too much too fast. Some of the legitimate jobs from the Fighters Guild had yielded some lucrative benefits, but money was still coming a lot slower than Arken cared for.

Arken blew through the door to his house and Ra'Jharra took his cloak as he passed, "Is everything all right, master?"

Arken dropped heavily into a seat at the table, "For the billionth time, Ra'Jharra, call me 'Arken'."

The Khajiit shook his head, "Propriety dictates that a servant never use his lord's name."

Arken shrugged, "Well, if you insist, then 'sir' is fine. Titles make my skin crawl." Ra'Jharra set a mug of water down on the table and Arken took a drink to wet his throat, "And to answer your question, no, everything is not all right. In fact, everything is decidedly bad. You may have noticed that there's a record number of Imperial Legion soldiers patrolling Balmora's streets lately."

Ra'Jharra nodded, "I did, which is unusual, given that Balmora is under Hlaalu jurisdiction."

Arken nodded, "Exactly, which means only one of two things: either the Legion is pushing into Balmora, or the Hlaalu have asked for help scouring the streets for thieves and the like. Given House Hlaalu's overwhelming support of the Empire, I doubt it's the former. Also, I just had a little…discussion with Ra'Virr. He's refusing to buy until the heat's off, and he was the last fence who hadn't frozen us out."

Ra'Jharra nodded slowly, "So what does this mean for us?"

Arken looked up at the cat, "It means we're completely frozen out until the Hlaalu get their undies out of a bunch." He leaned one elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead, "I hope this doesn't mean we have to relocate to another town."

Ra'Jharra took a step back and leaned against the wall, "There may be another way to evade the authorities. You could seek sanction."

Arken looked at the Khajiit and cocked an eyebrow, "Come again?"

"It was not uncommon in Elsewyr for a thief or assassin to seek sanction from one of the more powerful clans. Sanction was the power for that thief or assassin to go about his business, so long as he did so against rival clans, and his clan would help cover for him, provided he was not apprehended by the authorities. The great houses of Morrowind regularly hire assassins to conduct their house wars. It would not be a far stretch for one to take a thief under their wing."

Arken frowned as he thought about the concept. A thief in the employ of one of the great houses. That could definitely help. Having the resources of one of the great houses covering his backside would be very useful. The only thing that really bothered Arken was simply the idea of being in someone else's employ. Arken enjoyed the notion of taking orders about as much as the notion of using himself as slaughterfish bait.

Arken shook his head, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea. If we go under the wing of some great house fat cat, no offense, they might try to exercise their authority a little more than I'm comfortable with. They may try to limit who we can steal from, or where we can sell, or try to get us to pull a crazy job. And if we don't cooperate, a quick yelp to the local guards and it's a long time in a very small cell for both of us."

Ra'Jharra nodded, "That all depends on getting the right house. Some houses may be a little more…authoritative than others. If you find one that is willing to work with you, the mutual benefit can be quite lucrative."

Arken nodded as he thought about it some more. The thought definitely did have merit. Being a thief sanctioned by one of the great houses to steal from their rivals definitely could be useful, plus they could provide some legal work along the way.

Arken nodded, then looked at Ra'Jharra, "If this whole 'sanction' thing is so wonderful, then why didn't you get it ten years ago when you first came here?"

The Khajiit scoffed, "Because I had an Imperial Legion captain constantly looking over my shoulder before I was kidnapped by those slavers. The Legion presence in Seyda Neen may be small, but they are exceptionally nosy."

Arken shrugged. So, sanction it is then. The only problem was finding the right house.

"You've been here longer, Ra'j. Which house do you think would work?"

Ra'Jharra went about setting the table for lunch as he spoke, "House Indoril is the ruling house, so we want to steer clear of them. The Ordinators would love to get their hands on the likes of us. House Dres is nothing but a bunch of puppet nobles in fancy clothing when you break it all down, so not much potential there. We want to stay as far away from House Dagoth as physically possible. A lot of bad things going on there. House Telvanni would no doubt be too demanding, putting us in compromising situations. Hlaalu is too pro-Imperial for our liking. That leaves only House Redoran."

Arken nodded as he listened, "The 'West-Gash-goodie-goodies'? You sure one of the others wouldn't work?"

Ra'Jharra shook his head, "I think House Redoran would be the best option. They hold the strongest to the ancient Dunmer traditions and rituals. They make extensive use of assassins for house wars. A thief in their employ would not be too far fetched."

Arken sat back in his chair, "It looks like the best option we have. I'll look into it next time I'm out in Ald'Ruhn." Arken scoffed and rolled his eyes, "It sure beats the idea of waiting around doing nothing until the heat's off." He took a quick look at his calendar before standing up, "Right now, I have to get out to Sadrith Mora. Fighters Guild has a job for me out there, and the client is liable to get a little testy if I'm late. I'll probably be gone for a couple days."

Ra'Jharra grabbed Arken's cloak and handed it to him, "What should I do while you're gone?"

Arken shrugged as he fastened the cloak, "Not much you can do. Just keep your ear to the ground and keep an eye on the legionnaires." Arken tossed the cloak's trail around his shoulders and opened the door to leave. He crossed the bridges over the Odai River that ran through the center of Balmora and headed for the local Mages Guild chapter. He came to the front door of the hall, but found a notice nailed to the door that he stopped to read.

Arken muttered the words aloud as he read them, "To the concerned citizens of Balmora: The Balmora guild guide is presently in Gnisis on guild business and will not be back until next week. The guild apologizes for any inconvenience this may cause in your travel plans." Arken rolled his eyes as he turned away from the door, "Great. My luck's turning out to be all bad these days." He looked up toward the sun to gauge the time. The silt strider wouldn't be leaving for another hour, so Arken had to consign himself to waiting, an activity he liked about as much as taking orders. He sighed and pulled his sword half way out of the scabbard to look at the edge. He'd been meaning to get some of the nicks repaired, so now was as good a time as any. Arken shoved the sword back into the scabbard as he headed over to the Razor Hole, the local weapon shop. He pushed the door open and stepped through, nodding to the Hlaalu guard as he closed it behind him. Rule number one for a thief: never act guilty in front of the law. Give them no reason to suspect you, and they won't. When Arken turned to find Thorck, he found the Nord arguing with a Dunmer in green and brown robes, apparently a mage from the look of him.

Thorck shook his head to the Dunmer, "I'm sorry, lad, but that's my price for weapon and armor repairs. I don't make exceptions for the Fighters Guild, so there's no reason I should for the Mages Guild."

The Dunmer mage spoke with a born-and-bred Morrowind accent, "The guild is more than willing to compensate you for it. We can make this worth your while if you're willing to work with us."

Thorck shook his head, "I can't do that. It'll run my revenues down far enough to put a significant dent in my budgets. I'm sorry, but you'll just have to tell your Archmage that I can't give any discounts for repairs."

The Dunmer breathed a sigh, "It looks like I'll just have to pass on the message." He pulled a sword from beneath his robes, "Can you repair this for me, at least? The guard is loose from the hilt."

Thorck looked at the sword and nodded, "Twenty five."

The Dunmer's eyes widened, "Twenty five? I'm not sure I have that much to spare right now."

The Nord shook his head, "If you can't pay for it, I can't repair it."

"That's alright, Thorck." Arken stepped forward and dropped a small pouch of coins on the blacksmith's table, "I'll cover him. And while you're at it, beat some of the nicks out of my blade, if you don't mind."

Thorck checked the pouch and accepted Arken's and the mage's blades, "Alright. It's your money, Dralkes." He grabbed a hammer and turned around to his anvil.

The Dunmer mage looked at Arken, "Thank you. I can't really repay you right now, but I will."

Arken waved away the comment, "Don't worry about it. You're going to have enough trouble relaying your bad news to the Archmage." He extended his hand, "Arken Dralkes, freelance adventurer."

The mage shook his hand, "Fynix Nylim, Mages Guild." Fynix leaned back against the wall behind him, "Do you live here in Balmora?"

Arken nodded, "Yes, across the Odai. Right now I'm just killing time until the silt strider leaves." Arken leaned against the wall next to him, "What about you? Are you local?"

Fynix scoffed, "Hardly. I live on the other side of the island, in Sadrith Mora. I was here on guild business. Spent nearly half my drakes on striders and boats just getting here."

Arken shrugged, "Tough break." He shifted his weight to his other foot, "Mages Guild, right? What do you specialize in?"

"Destruction and Alteration, although I'm decent at Restoration and Alchemy."

Arken nodded, "So you could blast the flesh off my bones and then glue it back onto the blackened skeleton when you're done?"

Fynix nodded, "That is the correct, if not morbid, way of putting it. I'm a battlemage. My use of magic is more for fighting than for than anything, but I'm an accomplished healer, nonetheless." Fynix glanced over at Thorck to check on his sword briefly before looking back at Arken, "You said you were waiting for the silt strider. Might I inquire to where you're off to?"

"Sadrith Mora. Fighters Guild business, along with a few personal errands."

Fynix raised his eyebrows, "Then I have a chance to repay you for helping me. The strider master here is a personal friend of my father. He gives me discounts. It's not a free ride, but it's better than what you'd normally get."

Arken nodded to him, "Well, thank you. I appreciate it." Arken took a good look at this mage, this Fynix Nylim, as he received his repaired sword from Thorck. He seemed to be a good man, which was unusual given that Arken didn't usually get along with mages and wizards. Too snobby. Finding a mage who was willing to return one good turn for another was a rare thing. Arken would definitely have to keep him in mind. Thorck finished off Arken's blade and both he and Fynix left the shop to head to the silt strider platform. On the way to Sadrith Mora, transferring to a boat at Vivec, Arken and Fynix continued to converse with one another. By the time they reached the ports of Sadrith Mora, Arken had finally made up in his mind that this mage was a good man, and both had become well acquainted. Arken made a mental note to stay in touch with Fynix as the two parted ways from the docks. Arken nodded to himself as he watched Fynix the dirt road. It seemed that he'd made not only an ally today, but for the first time in his life, a friend. He took a deep breath of the salty air as he began walking toward the town. This land of Morrowind truly did hold some interesting mysteries. Arken smiled as he entered town. All mysteries could be solved, it was only a matter of how.