Chapter Three

Freshly baked wheat bread and the smell of sizzling meat is the only sign of life at the Silver-Blood Inn. Hardly anyone has visited for two days. Men from the city have volunteered to help collect the dead miners for proper burial while others frequently visit Left Hand Mine to offer their condolences. After collecting payment, Vorstag remained with Skaggi and I went to visit the Hag's Cure and Understone Keep and have since kept to my room. A strong fire in a large stone hearth makes the room toasty, but comfortable. In front of the fireplace is a small table of fresh fruit snugged between two armed cushioned wooden chairs draped in deer skin. To the right a stone table protrudes from the wall painted with intricate gold designs and three more wooden chairs. The table is littered with books and parchments, a half empty ink bottle and five empty bottles, a quill and two broken quills, and two wooden bowls. One bowl is filled with lesser soul gems and the other two grand soul gems and one black soul gem. I lay opposite across the room stretched out on a cushioned double stoned bed cradling an open book, Souls: Black and White, against my chest. There are two stone nightstands with gold designs and two black bear rugs on both sides of the bed. Against a wall is a wooden dresser and against the opposite wall a wardrobe. I roll over groaning heavily. The book slides to the floor while my barefoot accidentally brushes one of various scrolls off the bed.

Nothing. Not one word of soul gems being infused into briar seeds. Or into anything else. I've never heard of anything like it. The crystal shard found inside the seed was smaller than a lesser soul gem, which means it was only a piece. It was not a full-sized gem. If only I reacted sooner and stopped Vorstag from smashing it-

A shiver rushes up my spine. I can see him the ugly horned deerface. His eyes of black death peer through scorched matted fur. I'm trembling-it's suddenly cold. The fur peels back pulling away decaying flesh and muscle. A human skull presses itself through the mouth its' deviled horns tearing the deer hide to shreds-! In the eyes of black death there is a flash-small crystalized orbs of burning ice! Azura, it sees me! Don't touch me-! The monster reaches out and opens its' decayed mouth-!

Gripping my pillow, I press my face into it.

Stop it! It's alright. You're alright.

I readjust taking a deep breath and relax on the pillow.

It's all alright.

…Well, mostly.

Instead of worrying about old monsters, I need to focus on the current ones. To say that Briarheart warrior was beastly would be an insult to beasts. And somewhere out in the wild are more of those freaks. If I fought him alone, if Vorstag wasn't with me… I cannot be caught off guard again. Next time will be different, and I will undercover the truth of their mystery crystal shard. Until then I will do a better job reviewing my craft.

Better than I ever did before.

"Mm…" I bite my lower lip. The word just on the tip of my tongue. Swallowing, I try again, and it comes out in a low whisper as if I'm afraid the walls will hear. "Mother."

I do not think about her much or my father. Over the years their sharp triangular coal gray faces have faded to hooded shadows. What I remember most is their erudite mannerisms and obdurate determinations. The way my father bent over like a hunchback in his garden his hands caked in soil. The way my mother obsessed over her research always clutching parchment with illegible notes or a tome in her long fingers. How she would hit me or throw it at me when I failed to understand her lessons or conjure a dead rat back to life. If she were in the mine, she would have developed a hypothesis about the infused shard before she ever left it. Then before a full day could pass she'd have charged out with a hunting party to capture a new specimen. In Morrowind, some folks called her a witch. Others called her whore of the worm. But all of them acknowledged her genius. And one of her favorite fields of study was soul gems.

A knock on the door blinks me back to the present. Is it that late already? I sit up and push down my long carmine skirt over my exposed calves. "Come in."

The rustic gold door opens and a grinning Vorstag steps inside. "Good evening, madam, I sincerely hope all's well. Nice room."

I quickly fix my white blouse pulling it higher over my breasts while he looks around. "Compliments of Lord Silverfish."

"Is that what you call him? That's funny!"

"Vooorsstaaaaag," I growl his name through gritted teeth, but he ignores me too busy studying the decorative shield over the hearth. "What are you doing? I'm not expecting visitors."

"Just your soldier of fortune reporting in and," he pulls a bottle of Argonian Bloodwine from behind his back. "Inquiring if your ladyship will be dining in or out?"

Hroki, the innkeeper's daughter, enters carrying a tray with a bowl of stew, a plate of garlic bread, and a glazed sweet roll. Shoulders back, she stands by Vorstag. "I'm sorry. I told him you've been taking your meals in your room and you didn't wish to be disturbed," eyes narrowed she gives Vorstag the stink eye. "No exceptions."

"It's alright, Hroki," I sigh in defeat. "He can stay."

She nods then gives an approving glance at the door. Her older brother, Hreinn, enters carrying a small wooden table and places it in front of the hearth.

"Make it for two. Add it to my tab."

"That isn't necessary-"

I wave at Hroki to continue as she is and ignore Vorstag. She puts down the plates of food and the blond siblings rush out to fulfill my orders.

"I'm grateful for the offer, but as I said it isn't necessary."

"Don't be," I rise from the bed and pick up the book and scroll from the floor placing them on top of the dresser. "I'm not paying for it."

Hreinn returns carrying another small table followed by Hroki with more hot food and two silver chalices. After setting up in front of the second chair by the fire the siblings take their leave shutting the door behind them. Vorstag waits for me to take my seat then uncorks the wine pouring it into our cups.

"Thank you."

He nods and sits. "I'm curious how you convinced Thonar to put you up. Dragonborn or not, he'd charge his own mother."

"Easy. I ordered him."

Vorstag looks at me as if I wore a crab on my head.

"You know everything about this city and its' people, Vorstag. You know Silver-Blood is a wretched man. And wretched men…always have something to hide."

Vorstag frowns in disproval. "I'll not sit here and pretend I like the man, but nor will I sit here and approve of the dishonorable practice of blackmail either."

"Yes, it is, isn't it? You know what else is dishonorable?" I say in between bites of stew before meeting his autumn gaze. "Betraying the trust of your city," I can see the wheels in the Nord's head turning as he processes my revelation. Before he can ask further questions, I silence him with a small shake of my head. "It's best you don't know, but rest assured the Jarl is aware of the situation."

Except the part about Thonar Silver-Blood's direct involvement in the Forsworn conspiracy. At the time it seemed the sensible thing to do. I was angry. Seeing him stand there with the morning sun reflecting off his stupid bald spot he was a breath away from becoming barbeque. The only thing that saved him was he had my stuff and the change of the guards. I still wanted to get even. And what better way than to extract what he loves most. Gold. He also has powerful connections and resources, which could prove useful should I need it. When his usefulness has run its course or he becomes dead weight, whichever comes first, I will turn him in to the Jarl.

"About Skaggi," I lick my lips of lingering beef stew. "I take it given the circumstances he's doing well."

"Yes," Vorstag finishes off a piece of garlic bread. "All things considered. The bodies were buried this morning."

I nod unsure of how else to proceed. It didn't occur to me until later that Vorstag probably knew the miners who were killed. He's lived here his entire life and from what I've seen is on good terms with everyone. It's no wonder he insisted we be the ones to investigate. How foolish of me not to realize it when it is so obvious.

"I'm sorry about your friends."

"Thank you."

I nod picking up my cup and slowly drink the wine. As I drink, I see Vorstag from my peripheral vision reach for the bottle. The moment I place down my cup he refills it.

"I see you've been busy," he says indicating the pile of papers on the table. "Find anything of interest?"

"No. It's been a complete waste. There's no record or mention of infusing crystals or soul gems into briar seeds. I even checked with Bothela and she's never heard of it either."

"Did you ask the Court Wizard?"

"Don't get me started on that old windbag," I tear into my bread.

"Aah, don't take it personal," he waves it off. "Calcelmo's like that with everyone."

"He lectured me for almost an hour about his research and still wouldn't lend me his books until he made me promise a favor."

"Which was?"

"The Dwemer ruin he's excavating might have a bug problem. If his workers can't handle it, he wants me to do it."

"Ah, the spiders. Yes, I've heard from workers some little ones have been aggressive, but nothing they can't handle. Hopefully, it stays that way."

"Even if it doesn't it'll have to wait because we'll be long gone," I use the last of my bread to absorb the last drops of stew. "We leave at first light."

"I thought you'd say that. I've already told Kleppr to prepare enough provisions for three."

"Three?"

"For your missing friend."

"He's not my friend-" I pause in midmotion slicing off a piece of cake and glance at the Nord. He lounges like a well-fed bear with his harden legs stretched out. Resting but attentive he stares as he grabs his sweet roll in his giant paw and takes a large bite.

Well...damn. Damn. Damn. Damn! You moron! A stupid slip up! I don't even have a cover story yet!

"I didn't mean to pry," he said with his mouth full. "But in my line of work attention to detail is critical. Before we left the city, I couldn't help but notice your question, but I wasn't going to ask either. I figured during the journey you would tell me."

"You figured right," my appetite gone, I push away my sweet roll and drink more wine. "I was going to tell you, but not until later."

"Now is as good as any," he cleans his hands with a napkin then pours more wine in our cups before he settles back in his seat.

I watch the fire dance as I feel his patient gaze on me. I'm fidgeting. My fingers can't keep still tapping repeatedly on the table. How suspicious I must look to him. No, wait. Concern. Worry. It is the truth. I am concerned. I am worried. Don't hide it. Show it.

"I'm looking for a priest."

"A priest?"

"Yes."

"There's only one priest who lives in the city and that's Brother Verulus the caretaker at the Hall of the Dead. He presided over the burial today."

"The priest I speak of is not from Markarth," I take a long sip of wine while hiding my sigh of relief. That means Logrolf is not a local and no one would miss him. The citizens are too wrapped up with the threat of Forsworn to pay attention to the comings and goings of a foreign priest. And because of his nature he likely has kept to the shadows. That's what I would do if I were a Daedric priestess in Skyrim. "As a matter of fact," I continue casually. "I've actually never met the man."

"Then why are you looking for him?"

Careful now, as close to the truth as possible.

"Before I left Whiterun, I was approached by one of the Jarl's guests. Coincidentally, he was leaving the same day as me. He learned I was going to the Reach, and because he could not personally travel here himself, he asked if I would heed his special request. He not only needed someone he could trust, but someone who could understand. Someone like me. One Dunmer to another."

Vorstag raises a questioning brow, but nods for me to continue.

"Unfortunately, this Dunmer had…a delicate Dunmer problem. He hadn't heard from his priest who was supposed to be visiting Markarth. He wrote letters, but each one was returned to him unsent. No couriers could find him. Since I was headed this way, he asked if I could keep an eye out for him."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I fail to understand why it's specifically an elf problem."

"Because the priest I seek is no ordinary priest," I eat a few bites of cake and wash it down with wine. I gingerly rub my hands in my lap purposefully showing my unease, which is getting easier by the minute. The origin story may be a lie, but my nerves are cracking like a chisel to a stone. I look Vorstag directly in the eye. "He is Logrolf a high priest of Boethiah."

For a second Vorstag is confused his forehead scrunches in thought, but suddenly he stiffens and sits ramrod straight. "Boethiah…wait-as in-!"

"Yes."

We stare at each other with only the crackling fire to pierce the silence.

"I see," he clears his throat then takes a long swig of his drink. "I've got to say, Kalara, this news is rather…distressing. What will you do if you find this man?"

"I am to deliver him safely to Markarth."

"You can't be serious?"

"I'm dead serious."

Incredulous, Vorstag wipes his hand down his face. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. And you the Dragonborn-"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I expect better. You're telling me you're going to bring a servant of the dark cloth here?"

"Look, I'm not exactly thrilled either, but what's done is done. I've no choice, but to go through with it."

"Then why did you take the job?"

I grip the armrest as a slight chill rushes up my spine. I can almost feel the phantom spikes digging into my skin. "Let's just say my employer was very…persuasive," Vorstag's scrutinizing expression melts into concern. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "There's one more thing. Another reason...I didn't tell you."

The Nord tilts his head back and downs his entire cup then settles back in his seat and nods for me to continue.

"I was going to tell you. About the priest. But I didn't know how without revealing myself," I pause to let the weight of my words sink in. "In Skyrim, all Daedra are evil and it's not socially acceptable to worship them if not outright forbidden. In Morrowind, however, we do not share this view."

"You're a Daedra worshipper."

"Does this upset you?"

"A little bit," he hesitates. "But at the same time, I'm not surprised. So, you're a follower of… Boethiah?"

"No. I love and follow only one; Azura. She is my moon and star. She is one of the three Daedra the Dunmer consider good. Many in Morrowind worship all three, but I am loyal only to Azura."

"I see… I admit my knowledge of Daedra is little, but I have heard Azura is less foul than other Daedra."

"I'm so glad," I reply with a strained smile while ignoring the slight against my Goddess. "Then does this mean…you'll stay on as my guide?"

"Of course, I will. We made a deal and I swore I would protect you. Is that why you were afraid to tell me?"

"I didn't want to tell you because you're a Nord," I pick up the wine bottle and refill Vorstag's cup. "I mean no offense, but some Nords tend to be suspicious of Dunmer and Dunmer practices especially now with the current…political climate. I know it's mostly a problem in the east, but still…I couldn't be sure."

"Fair enough. You need not explain any more. Now, about this missing priest. You think the Forsworn got him?"

"I do."

"Then I hate to be the barer of bad news, but by now he's dead. The Forsworn rarely take prisoners and even then they don't live long."

"I understand," I slice off more cake and wash it down with wine. "However, I've reason to believe the priest is alive."

"How so?"

"Call it…intuition," I drink again as Vorstag shakes his head in protest.

"Intuition-Kalara-I don't know how long he's been missing, but it seems like it's been a long time and if the Forsworn are responsible there's no chance."

"The priest lives," I say with calm conviction. "How I know is irrelevant. All that matters is you do as I say. Tomorrow, we start tracking them to their hideouts. I can very easily fulfill my duties to the Jarl while looking for a dead man."

Vorstag sighs heavily while shaking his head in resignation. "As you wish, although, I do have one more question. Suppose you are right, and he is alive. Why? What interest would the Forsworn have for a priest?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I was kind of hoping you might have an idea, but I guess we will find out when we find him."

"Assuming he's even alive."

"He IS…alive," I glare at him, but he just smiles and raises his hands in defeat. "And when we do find him you don't worry about him. You leave the priest to me and stay out of it. Got it?"

"Whatever you say. So long as he's not a threat to the citizens of the Reach."

"Of course," I stand up a little wobbly with my wine cup and walk to a long golden rope hanging by the door and pull it. Within moments there is a knock and Hroki comes in and clears away the dishes except the bottle. "By the way thank you for the wine."

"You're welcome," he rises holding his own cup. "I noticed it was your favorite."

"Hmmm," tilting my head back I drain the last of the sweet bloody concoction. "It's a very good one." Going back to the table I pick up and examine the bottle. "Enough for two more cups."

Vorstag quickly finishes off his drink then holds it out and I refill his and then mine. He waits as I pause considering my words. My index finger uncertainly slides along the rim.

"I know I already said it, but I want to say it again. I am truly sorry about your friends," I raise my cup. "May they have eternal peace."

The Nord raises his cup. "May they have eternal peace."

We both drink.

"A toast," I continue offering my cup once more. "To our good health, our partnership and future victories."

"To victory."

Our cups clink together and we each drink. I put down my cup and go to the door. "It's getting late. We shou-"

"One more toast."

I stop halfway.

"We have enough left in our cups for one more."

Frowning, I walk back over with a slight wobble and peer into my cup. "Alright. What'll it be?"

The Nord ponders a moment. "It may be rather bold, but I offer this final toast to you, Kalara."

"To me?" I cannot help but laugh. "For whatever for?"

He does not answer and just stares at me.

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Vooorstaaag-"

"There it is," he snaps his fingers and grins like a little boy as if he had just won a game.

"What?"

"You said it."

"Said what?"

"My name."

"Um…yes? So what?"

"The way you said it just now. You've said it that way several times before. I like it."

"Are you stupid?" I can feel my face heating up, which is even stupider than the cause. "Who cares how I say your name!"

"I do."

"I thought you wanted to make a toast."

"I do," his grin still plastered on his face. "I just wanted to hear you say my name like that twice in one evening."

Before I can retort he raises his cup close to mine. "A toast to the Dragonborn the savior of the world."

"No pressure," I mutter.

"To Kalara," he continues, but this time locks his eyes with mine. "Who out of all Dragonborns past is the most beautiful of them all."

By Azura, the man is drunk. Funny, he doesn't seem the low tolerance type. As expected, I do have a little buzz in my forehead like a little bumblebee buzzing around in my skull looking for a way out. It is only until I came to Skyrim, I have been able to drink alcohol again so my tolerance is lower. All those years incapable of sharing a fine bottle with someone-

My breath gets caught in my throat and my heart is heavy like lead dangling on a string about to snap off and be lost in the abyss. He was tall and lean, but muscular from backbreaking work so his hands were always callused and blistered. He had a strong narrow jawbone and a straight nose, long black hair that reached his shoulders when not pulled back tight with a leather thong atop his head. I remember how his large almond shaped eyes were sharp as cut garnets and he always looked at you like a wise raven. This was because of his dark almost coal colored gray skin with a high forehead and widow's peak hairline. Even now it is easy to hear his voice. Soft and deep all at once whispering as he raised a glass…

The most beautiful

"Kalara?"

"Uh," I shake my head recomposing myself. "Look, if you want to toast to my health, fine, but don't be weird about it." I raise my cup high. "To the Dragonborn. May I live up to the world's expectations."

Before the Nord can respond, I tilt my head back and drink the rich sweetness suddenly turned sour. Rubbing the back of my knuckles against my lips, I glance up and see the Nord has yet to drink. "Well, what's wrong? Not much of a toast if the man who offered it doesn't drink."

"To the Dragonborn," he repeats a bit more somber than before then finally drinks. "It is getting late. I'm gonna call it a night and let you sleep."

"Same goes for you," I say as I follow him to the door. "I don't want a hungover guide."

"I'm not drunk," Vorstag pauses at the door standing partly in the hall. "I meant every word." As he grips the door handle, he looks over my simple dress and his boyish smile returns. "Good night, lass," he says with a wink and is gone.

Grumbling, I lock the door then lean against it with a heavy sigh.

I know I am good looking. A few have called me 'exotic' because of my pale complexion for a Dunmer. Still, I should have been more courteous toward him and less dismissive. At least say 'thank you' or return the compliment-

You're quite a stud too, big man.

I press my blushing face into my hands as an imagined Vorstag flexes his large muscular arms. Azura, help me, I'm acting like a youngling! I am drunk! I probably didn't eat enough to balance out the alcohol. I return to my chair and grab an apple-

And in an instant, I feel him. My teeth nearly grazed the skin until I felt the old ache in my heart. I pull back and study the small almost orangey apple. When I hold it up the flames reflect off the shiny surface and the apple shimmers like a garnet.

You are the most beautiful

"…No, Darias…" my voice more of a rasp than a whisper. With trembling hands, I clutch the apple to my heart as a sudden wave of tears threatens to fall. "You were. That was you. It was always you."