Theman's spells and scrolls, though they would certainly have been effective, were not needed, after all. "Skooma-head" is an understatement. I've not seen the like outside the foulest gutters, muthsera. The reek of it as I entered his apartment nearly addicted me. I wondered how much he surely was paying off the local patrol; I never expected to find out, much less the answer.

He is a Master in the Blades, the Emperor's force of spies. "Nosy fetcher", indeed. But what Emperor entrusts such a job to such a man?

The same that wishes a lowly untrained thief to join in the spying, I suppose. The mysterious package proved to be instruction to conscript me into their ranks. He asked me if I was ready to follow his orders, as though I had a choice.

So, look at me, muthsera. I am a Novice in Septim's own elite.

It feels even more false than the games Theman and I first played at the Eight Plates.

"Don't believe anything she tells you about me." Edd jibed from across the room, not looking up from his own careful writing on another scroll.

He missed the rare slight smile she gave. "As you wish, sera."

She missed the habitual broad grin he returned. "Unless it's good."

Cosades offered me training, his cot...though as Theman assured, not in the vulgar sense...or orders. Training...I bit back my disbelief at recruiting spies, THEN training them. I asked my orders instead, dreading the response. He had none. He gave me 200 drakes...200, muthsera...! and told me to blend in. Were I still a girl shivering with fear in the orphanage, that gold would have bought my undying loyalty. Now, I only tried to calculate how far from the Blades it could take me.

He advised I educate myself in the politics at work here. I already planned to, since Theman's confession. He bade me take my time, but the unspoken expectation I return eventually was there.

He then surprised me by telling me my new "admirer" was a great source of intelligence on House Telvanni. A wizard who had "gone Imperial" by joining the Mage's Guild, something that his House apparently deeply disapproves of. He cautioned me Edd Theman was colorful and unreliable, though, so if I continued to share his bed, under no circumstances was I to share my thoughts.

"Nosy fetcher", indeed.

Telvanni, Hlaalu, the Imperials, the Mages, the Fighters, the Thieves, the Cammona Tong. And those are only the factions here in Balmora that I can recall as I write. And, of course, the one-man faction, "Fast Eddie" Theman.

So many ambitions from so many directions, it aches my simple mind to contemplate. I kept away from tiresome streetfights by keeping distant from all save my targets' purses; now, there is no escape. The Emperor freed me from prison, only to lay infinitely more fiendish chains on me.

And still, I do not know why.

Theman seems to thrive on the intrigue. I do not know if he understands it any more than I do, from what little I told him. But he certainly has a mind for playing angles, like the oiliest hucksters back in the slums of Cyrodil. He denied none of what Cosades said, dismissing it as a "necessary evil", and seemed quite pleased to say he was "unreliable" because much of the "intelligence" they were fed was fabricated to fit the need of the moment. Imperials were easy to trick, he laughed, because they believe the world revolves around them.

Don't worry about any the Blades, Edd Theman, or anyone else, he said then. What do you want?

Freedom, I readily answered.

There is no real freedom for the living, he replied, bravado suddenly gone from his voice. Dunmer and Altmer do not share many ideologies, but I could not argue him that one.

A simple life, then. It was another dream I knew I had lost the moment the shackles were locked on me in Cyrodil. Truth would be nice, too, but that is another thing the living do not have.

He suggested I take what simplicity I could by first manipulating the Imperials as they manipulate me. Instead of running, embracing. There was clearly something about me they wanted; exemplify myself, discover it, and then name my price, rather than become a fugitive once more and allow them to name a price on my head. He would help. He would make the execution simple as he could, whenever he could. His mind, his magicka were at my disposal. Make your own truth, he said. His eyes burned as he spoke.

And again, I do not know why. Not entirely. He asked two things in return: first, ocassional insight if I were ever ordered against his rivals, Drathas and Gothren, provided I felt safe in confiding it; his "great source of intelligence" on Telvanni ended when he was cast out. He swore on his ancestors' peace he would make certain I was never discovered as an informant, and shrewdly noted that if he merely planned to sell me out at some point to regain his stature, he'd ask for much more than that. Secondly...to find reason to smile. I cannot believe he still thinks I would buy the claim my shabby teeth are among the few things he has left to believe in. No wonder there was no one keeping his company before I pretended to.

I cannot imagine what truth of his own he is forging.

But...

Perhaps it is because he does not carry the same sour element of compulsion as Cosades does; mostly, it is because I know I could be killed no matter what I do, and Theman's plan has the biggest return for the gamble. I accept his charity, or whatever it is, and his company, which is painfully obvious.

At the least, he will learn how mercenary I can be without his teaching.

Tonight, I spent half the gold returning the favor of a feast to him. Tomorrow, I spend the other half preparing to be Cosades' finest puppet.

Good night, muthsera. If Theman is the one who wakes you next, ask him why you should not believe.