A/N: Rough drafted posted without editing. Sorry. Got busy.
"Light of a Candle" by Yosa Buson
Chapter 71: Crazy Cat Lady
"Y'know, I've always wondered if you big cats are lactose intolerant like cats back home and these little ones. I'm sorry I don't have anything else to offer you. Bolan's promised me a deer haunch from next week's hunting, I've already processed what I've got for the little ones into pemmican kibble."
The smooth-skin female rattled on in an oddly soothing voice. She was skinny, underfed, obviously giving most of her meat to the clowder of mewling brutes sitting around the room. The young ones crowded around her feet, not minding her need to occasionally sweep them aside with gentle movements. The older ones were content to lounge on the shelves lining the walls of her small hut. Despite the number of brutes, the smell inside was surprisingly pleasant from the many herbs suspended from the ceiling beams, drying and gifting the air with the scent of greenery and flowers.
He observed the weakness in her left side. He saw the patch of sparse gray hair amidst the pale yellow of the rest. Indication of a past head injury where the scalp had torn and regrew scarred and only capable of putting out gray and white hairs if at all.
He leaped up and caught the bowl she'd fumbled. Some of the dry, crumbly bread triangles were bumped out as the bowl impacted his palms.
"Oh! Oh! Sorry about that," the female moaned. "Clumsy, clumsy Alice! You know that bowl was too big to carry! You can't do weight lifts anymore. Should've used the carry basket like usual." Her carry basket was designed for her weakness. A rectangular basket. One end had a long loop of leather that was slung crosswise across her body from right shoulder to left hip. The other end had a short loop that either went around her wrist or that she clutched in her fist. This allowed her to empty the basket quickly without the struggle of lifting the long strap over her head. He had seen her carry vegetables in it earlier while her other hand used a cane to help her walk.
The thin wooden bowl and its contents barely registered as a weight. He would've picked up the scattered bread bites, but the brute cats were already gobbling them. The dry bread did smell delicious. He said so, and the female smiled and laughed shyly. "I hope they taste good for you. Catnip and carrot cookies. Must feed the kitties, Alice. Good stuff. Not that Purina crap of old grains and unusable trash meat scraps soaked in preservatives to slow down the rot."
"Sit, sit, please. I can tell you've been working hard even before we arrived," he insisted, guiding her to one of the three rickety chairs around the battered table.
"Well, potatoes won't harvest themselves," she sighed. She looked up at him, smiling. "Wow. I always thought Khajiiti were the handsomest creatures in Skyrim. Ma'Dran — you're handsomer in person than on screen. More like a giant, gorgeous bobcat instead of that skinny thing that was supposed to be some sort of lynx. Big. Um, Suthay? Cathay? I can't seem to get them straight. Two moons — need a degree in astronomy to keep track of those lunar cycles," she mumbled.
She slumped as she sat and stared off to one side, unfocused. Her soft, sing-song voice continued speaking her madness aloud. "The character design screens were so limited when it came to designing cats. None of them were really as attractive as I wanted. I always wanted to play as an Alfiq, but that was never an option. And, really, it wouldn't work in the game even if I played a mage. Size. And needing hands."
Two of the non-sentient brutes stretched up to put their paws on his lap. They mewed pitifully, wordlessly like kittens, then dared leap onto his lap. There were at least twenty inside. He didn't want to guess how many roamed outside. When the mad female looked away, he regretfully slipped the cookies on the plate before him to the brutes that eagerly devoured them. Only after determining none of them showed signs of a sleeping drug did he try a cookie.
And somewhere among those animals was the one pleading for a rescue.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
"The light of a candle is transferred to another candle…" Ma'dran absentmindedly sang.
A tiny scroll dropped out of the basket of cloth scraps and ends that he'd purchased from a peddler. Some nice woolen pieces, some scraps, well dyed and others of pleasing design. Enough to make a patchwork vest and coat or blanket if one wasn't picky about uniformity. The goat and reindeer wool of the Nords was incredibly warm and rain repellent.
He picked up the scroll. Parchment and tied with two whisker hairs. Tiny letters in Ta'agra: "Thalmor have found us. The other flee to blend into outlaw camps. This one must hide among the brute cats. This one hides this note in the wares of a Nord peddler who mentions plans to trade with one of the Khajiiti caravans. Look for this one west of Dawnstar." The writing was almost illegible. The writer writing in haste, injured, or both.
He should pass this over to Ahkari. Dawnstar was one of her sales territories. Dro'marash and Kharjo were fierce enough to handle common bandits. But Akhari and Zaynabi were not warriors. And if there was trouble, like with Thalmor, Dro'marash and Kharjo would need to focus their efforts to protect those two. However, he, Ma'hjad, and Ra'zhinda were all warriors first.
And he was curious. Until two years ago, his route was strictly between Windhelm and Solitude. But Ri'saad had expanded everyone's routes due to the changing politics and expanding opportunities in Skyrim. Ma'dran's route now included Winterhold and its amazing workshops. The recent addition of Dwemer engineering studies at the College had fostered a new crafting industry and produced many clever tools of profitable potential. Deviating course to Dawnstar was not too great a hardship as it was early autumn and not yet the time of heavy snows. And if he was a few days late to Solitude, it wouldn't upset his bottom line profits too much.
"We look for a ghost? No trade?" asked Ma'hjad.
"An Alfiq. To hide among the brute cats… One wonders what business an Alfiq could have in these lands?" grumbled Ra'zhinda. She abruptly jumped up and went behind some bushes. The two men sighed. She, more than either of them, was bothered by her winter coat growing in. It grew thicker than either of them and she was warmer in the cold season, but the itchiness during growth provoked her, and she would often disappear to shed her armor to brush herself to relieve the itching and strip away loose fur. Along with the moons tiding that effected all females and drove them to frequent moodiness, well, they both had learned not to be surprised by her seeming irrational actions. The inconveniences were more than offset by her increased fierceness in battle and heightened sensitivity to unseen dangers while traveling.
The did meet up with Akhari's group on the road as they were heading back to Riften. He showed her the mysterious note and asked her if she'd heard any strange rumors around Dawnstar concerning brute cats.
"One has only heard the usual insults. But, yes, there was mention of another that the Dawnstar locals insulted. There was one who wanted to trade cookies for a fire-enchanted dagger. That one said the treats were part of a trade of meat for potions, and the treats came with the potions. A 'crazy cat lady' who swore all cats liked the treats.
"It was good," Akhari admitted. "Sprinkling a little moonsugar on top made them even better. This one let the dagger go for the baked goods. If you find the crazy one, let this one know the location. This one wants to buy more cookies." And with that, she left the responsibility of finding the note writer with Ma'dran.
He let it be known to the Dawnstar guards and anyone who would listen than he wanted to find the female Nord who made cookies for cats.
He finally received some information from a father and son pair of hunters. They looked to be like most of the other close-minded Nords who ignored his greetings, but surprised him by their friendliness.
"You're looking for Sister Alice," the elder Nord, Sven, told him. "What's your business with her?" he asked, smiling. Ma'dran had traveled long enough in this foreign land to recognize that the Nord's expression, while presently good humored, would quickly turn cold and to aggression if the answer was not good. A friend or kinsman of the female, perhaps?
"Sister Alice has many little brutes — little cats — around her, yes?"
"Mm," the Nord grunted.
"This one has received a call for help. The sender states it is hiding near a Nord with many brutes around her. It is the only clue this one has."
"Why is he hiding? Alice is overly fond of cats. She would not turn him away if he needed help."
Ma'dran put everything into the bet that this Nord hated Thalmor more than a foreign Betmer. "That one was being chased by Thalmor."
"And he's hanging around Alice? Damn!"
"Da, we should get over there right away," said the younger Nord, bristling with anger and fear. "Should I run to get more help?"
"Wait a moment, Olaf. You, how long has your friend been hiding?"
"This one does not know. The message was found three days ago. There is nothing to say when the note was sent. This one does not think your Sister Alice is in immediate danger."
The Nord tossed his purse to his son. "Go buy as much fish as you can carry and run over to Alice. Tell her I'm trading fish for some of her hard apple cider. Stay overnight at her place. That shouldn't be hard; she always has some chores that need doing because of her condition. Um, say me and my friends are hunting in the area and we'll all be meeting up at her place."
"Right, da." The boy ran back into Dawnstar.
The Nord glanced at the Khajiiti. "Sorry I can't invite you into town. Wait out here. I can recruit help as they come to Windpeak for drinks. We'll be ready to move by dawn tomorrow."
The Nord returned with eight others just before dawn. Three Dawnstar soldiers, a female in light Legion armor and her male companion in heavy Legion armor, a Dunmer in monk robes, and two miners who comfortably carried hunting bows and knives.
The female legionnaire laid out a map and briskly assigned sweep areas, dividing their group into three parties because there were only three Khajiit and she presumed the unknown Khajiit would feel more comfortable seeing his own kind among the hunters.
"This one is Brina, Jarl of The Pale," said the female legionnaire, nodding at him. She pointed to her companion, "That one is Horik. Is there possibly anything more Khajiit can say about the hiding one?"
"Regrettably, no. This one found the note—" he showed her the tiny scrap, "—in a basket of purchased goods. This one has asked Akhari for anything heard, but was only informed that there are good cookies that Khajiit would wish to purchase more of." The Nords smiled and laughed.
"Yeah, Alice makes good stuff. Thoring would hire her as a supplier, but with how much everybody eats and drinks, the work would be too much for her."
They dispersed to their assigned areas. Sven moved relatively silently to Ma'dran's ears. He was pleasantly surprised and disturbed at how quietly the armored ones were also able to move. He judged them to be seniors but in exceptional condition for the pace they were able to keep.
The legionnaires employed small tracer gems that detected magicka use. Dominion soldiers from the Isles took a long time to get used to Skyrim's cold weather, if at all. They tended to expend a lot of magicka to keep warm in their camps, and so the legionnaires were able to pick up traces of magicka. But the gems only told if magicka had been used in the area in the past week. There was no telling if the users were Dominion, a passing wizard from Winterhold, or somebody employing an enchanted item. Forsooth, Sven also carried an enchanted fire starter in case of emergencies, especially with winter coming on and increasing chances of being caught in a sudden white-out.
Ma'dran extracted the story the mysterious Sister Alice. It was the former Jarl Skald who had found her. He and his guards had been out hunting and came across a naked Imperial woman with grave injuries from battle and subsequent rape. She had only a sack of kittens and no memories of her name or what had happened. Sheogorath kissed. A Legion scout's helmet was found nearby. The ex-Jarl had enough compassion left to have the invading faithless Imperial delivered to the nearest farmhouse and dropped her in their care with gold coin for compensation, and promptly washed his hands of her.
That had been Sven's parents' farmhouse. And so "Sister Alice" began her life. A strange woman who seemed to know much about Skyrim Holds, politics, and the Dragonborn legends, but nothing about life. Her body was crippled from her injuries, but she was remarkably adaptable and determined to not let her disabilities get in the way of independence. Once she was as healthy as she could ever expect to get, she was determined to live on her own. His family would have been happy to have her continue to live at their place, except for her peculiar madness with cats. The sack of kittens had steadily grown to dozens of ferals decimating rodent colonies, chicks, ducklings…
They built her a house out in the wilderness as she requested. It was dangerous and foolhardy with large predators and bandits. Dozens of little hellcats aside, Sister Alice had her own peculiar ways of protecting herself. As happenstance would have it, she knew lightning magic. It was nothing grand. No lightning bolts to burn holes into enemy targets. Instead, hers was a weak manifestation, usually those annoying, unexpected shocks one can suffer when touching fur or metal. The strongest she could manage was to stun someone she was touching.
But even a mage will fall if ganged up on and hit her over the head with a mace, as had happened to her.
She wasn't a Winterhold mage. Sven had made the long trek to Winterhold College to ask, but no one there could recall among their students an Imperial woman of her description. Jarl Brina had asked the Legion headquarters in Solitude and had obtained a list of female legionnaires gone missing while in Stormcloak lands. Jarl Brina had reduced the list to a dozen names, but as Alice no longer had her memories, they could not be certain which one she might have been.
The giants that roamed The Pale had piled stones over the countless centuries to mark their territories. They'd built Alice's house into a pile of such stones long abandoned by the original giants and fenced her yard with the type of defensive rails the Forsworn used. He front yard had a strange garden of raised beds defined by stacked logs or short, wide barrels in which vegetables grew. There were also racks that held smaller pots from which grew flowers and herbs.
Olaf was diligently weeding the garden boxes. He waved when he saw them.
A multitude of brutes lounged about the house. They creatures instinctively got themselves of safety as the Khajiiti approached, recognizing greater predators.
Ma'dran surveyed the beasts then called out in Ta'agra, "Writer of the note, is Khajiit here? This one found the note in the fur peddler's wares. This one is Ma'dran of Rimmen."
"Looking for somebody?" asked a Nord female, emerging from a small shed. "An Alfiq, maybe?" She laughed. "Oh, I wish. I've so wanted to meet one. Although if he's been among my babies for a while and eating the food I provide, it's rude not to introduce oneself." She said this with a smile and Ma'dran was unsure if she was angry, irritated, or truly forgiving of this lapse or courtesy.
She looked to his guides. "Good to see you Sven, and greetings, my Jarl," she called out, nodding to Jarl Brina. Oh, my. So many visitors," as others appeared.
Now Ma'dran and his two caravan mates were seated in the cozy kitchen with Sister Alice. The Nords were outside under Jarl Brina's direction setting up camp and preparing food for dinner and butchering the deer and horker the other two parties had collected during their sweeps. Olaf hadn't told Sister Alice anything about the hidden Khajiit, so it was left to Ma'dran to explain things.
She listened with an idiot's smile and unfocused expression in her eyes. When he was done, she served them catnip and carrot cookies while babbling about Khajiit and games.
Ra'zhinda began twitching again. "Are you needing the sandbox, dear?"
"No, this one—"
"Oh. You're shedding inside that armor. Come this way dear. Excuse us, gentlemen." They disappeared into the female's bedroom.
"That one is Skooma Cat's toy," said Ma'hjad.
"Has Khajiit noticed the smell?" asked Ma'dran. "It is too clean in here. The males do not fight, the females have no kittens are do not seek attention." He pointed to a nearby crowd of brutes feeding at a large dish bowl. Tails up, happily feeding, and prominently displaying what wasn't there.
Indeed, every male lacked that defining anatomy. Ma'hjad hissed and jumped up from his chair, sending it flying backward. "Khajiit must make haste in searching out the missing one. One prays that one has not fallen to that female's knife."
Ma'dran and Ma'hjad walked around her territory, calling out for the hidden one. They came back for dinner, then went out again. Around midnight they came back to sleep. As they settled down, they noticed Ra'zhinda was still absent. A worried Ma'dran would have knocked on the cottage door but Horik stopped him. "They're sleeping," he said gruffly. "Alice pampers her cats, and that includes your companion. While you were gone, we men were tasked with hauling in water for a bath for your girl then building up a fire for her to dry by. Alice spent three hours stripping out all the loose fur. I believe Alice is planning to have all that fur spun into yarn. Now let her sleep."
Ra'zhinda appeared the next morning looking relaxed and smelling of sweet rosemary. Her pelt was smooth and glossy. "This one's fur has never felt so soft since leaving kittenhood," she purred.
"Armor and under padding does aggravate skin conditions," said Alice. "But if you continue using oatmeal in your baths, that should help with the dryness and skin flaking. And since Khajiit can't lick themselves all over like regular cats — the humanoid body type is just physically incapable — you're able to use oils and ointments that would sicken or poison regular cats."
"Brutes," corrected Ra'zhinda.
"Yes, yes, I know. Sorry. Monkeys are to humans what cats are to Khajiit. And you should stick to wooden combs and brushes. I know the stripping steel is more efficient, but it really doesn't redistribute oils like wooden teeth. Plus, steel is too harsh for your skin. That's the other half of the problem. Wasn't the massage with the wooden comb nice?"
Ra'zhinda purred.
"And I got a ton of fur off you. Almost like an Angora cat. Once it's washed and spun, it will make a lovely, warm shrug."
They probably would have gone on with talking hair/fur care but Olaf came in with a basket of potatoes and another Nord came in with a smaller basket of strong-smelling basil. "All done, Alice," he said. "You got a good crop."
"Companion planting," responded Alice, nodding. "Basil with potatoes. Or peas, chives, and garlic. Helps keep the bugs away, and all taste good with potatoes anyway." She glanced past him.
"Oh, Garfield, haven't seen you in a while. Let me get you a treat."
Ma'dran glanced down. A large, orange brute sat in the doorway.
"An injury has taken much of her wits, but witless ones like her, though kissed by Skooma Cat, can be blessed by Nirni," commented the orange Khajiit. "Ma'dran of Rimmen, Khajiit has said?"
"Yes, it is this one."
Ma'dran tried to be discreet in looking for any missing bits from the orange Khajiit's body.
"This one is Sho'maru of Dune, and quite intact." Khajiit sighed. "Dominion came by here looking for this one, Skooma Cat's handmaid gave them tea and offered to introduce them to all her brutes. They left without further questioning or action after seeing the horde she summoned."
"May this one ask Khajiit why the Dominion hunts Khajiit?"
"This one does not know. This one wishes to study the Crafter Colleges of Winterhold. That is all."
Ma'dran's ears twitched as he tried to understand that. Alfiq lacked true hands. Crafting with paws is difficult at best. That this was able to write a note, though near illegible, demonstrated a fine level of motor control. An Alfiq's inner mouth shape and vocal structure also made it near impossible to speak in tongues other than Ta'agra.
The name was familiar. Dune had a family of magicka tool crafters. The ones, in fact, that crafted the satchels Ri'saad provided his caravan leaders.
"Khajiit's travel companions, have they come out from hiding?"
"Two of the five. One is the secretary that speaks and writes for this one. One is a young relative also wishing to study engineering at Winterhold. They remain hiding in the woods. They heard and saw Khajiit's hunting party and informed this one. The others will come in time if surviving the Thalmor hunt.
"What is at Winterhold that the College of Whispers lacks?" asked Ma'dran. A foolish question. He could immediately think of several things the College of Whispers was lacking lately in magicka, politics, and relevance ever since it allowed the Dominion to place so-called "consultants" within.
Alice hobbled back with a delicious smelling bowl of kibble in her carry basket. The Alfiq licked his left front paw then got up, arching his back and purring loudly. Ma'dran heard him singing, "Food, glorious food…"
"Such a handsome Garfield," the madwoman crooned, stroking the Alfiq from his ears to his tail. Ma'dran's own hackles and tail twitch unconsciously at this impertinent intimacy. "Benno traded me big fat fish yesterday for arthritis potions for his parents. Soon I'll have yummy dried fish flakes to share with all my precious babies."
She smiled suddenly at Ma'dran and said, "I heard you talking to him. You haven't bothered talking to my other babies.
"That one seemed more intelligent than the others," Ma'dran said, feigning indifference.
She smiled widely. "Where I come from, we usually joke that large, orange cats like him rarely have more than two brain cells to rub together. But I get the impression that this one has plenty to spare. Oh, don't bother explaining again. I suppose you're the one being searched for," she said to Sho'maru. "So, what's your real name? Or is to too dangerous for me to know? Nevermind. I made a special dish any Garfield would love. Ta-daaa! Meat lasagna with Elsweyr cheese!"
She fetched a square pan from the oven. The Khajiiti sniffed, smelling meat and tomatoes rich with spices, the sting of alcohol and sweet fume of moonsugar. "Oh, no! fingers out, Olaf. This is for the furries. Get the hotpads and you can pull out the other pan meant for monkeys."
"No moonsugar in the cheese," said Olaf.
"Righty-o. And vodka was simmered in the meat and tomato sauce instead of ale in the cheese."
"What is 'vodka'?"
"An alcohol brewed from potatoes. Trust me, you'll love it."
Ma'dran sampled both versions. Both were delicious, but the the one flavored for Khajiit was superior. And the pasta. Ri'saad had told him about it, a wheat-based dough rolled thin and boiled. An Imperial kinswoman of Master Merchant Sadri in Windhelm had introduced it at a festival when the Emperor had visited Whiterun. Ri'saad had spoke of importing the creation home to Elsweyr.
"Oh, let me help you, Garfield," said Alice, seeing the Alfiq wander over to the nearest cat waterbowl to dip his paw in and wash his face. Good but messy food, especially for an Alfiq who couldn't use a fork with his paws.
Again, impertinent familiarity as she sat on the floor and pulled the Alfiq onto her lap and began wiping his face and paws with a wet cloth.
"That is the one sought?" whispered Ma'hjad.
"Yes. Sho'maru of Dune is Khajiit's name and home. Khajiit seeks the workshops of Winterhold College."
"Ah, is that so? No surprise at that one's interest. This one sees that Khajiit has the color and name of an important patriarch of a Dune clan known for magicka tools and for its distaste of the Dominion. This explains why the Dominion seeks to capture Khajiit. Many Khajiit loyalists to the Dominion buy tools from the Dune clan. It is business. Capture Khajiit, keep Khajiit slave to design tools and weapons. But… Winterhold College?" Ma'hjad shook his head. "That one then seeks Master Curtis, the Dwemer engineer. Master Curtis is no friend to the Dominion. What an unholy alliance it would make. This one shudders at the possibilities."
"Khajiit should make haste and resume the schedule to Tel Windstad and Solitude," said Ma'dran. "Khajiit can send messages at Tel Windstad to Winterhold, Curtis, and Sadri."
"The patriarch will not come with Khajiit?"
"This one believes it is safer that one stays hidden here. Skooma Cat's maid has many helpers for safety."
Ma'dran consulted with Sho'maru about his plan. Sho'maru, predictably, was vexed.
"This one did not know of Tel Windstad's connection to Winterhold. Many inconveniences could have been prevented if one had stopped there to establish contacts."
"Khajiit cannot be faulted for not knowing the territory," said Ma'dran, soothingly. "Skyrim has had many fast changes in politics. The manes behind the changes are fast and clever ones. Ri'saad's wisdom has been to recognize their custom as reliable and profitable. So long as Khajiit maintain the resources they desire, they will find Khajiit in camps or on the road to trade."
Sho'maru laughed. "This one understands. To find the fast-moving ones, be the waterhole in the desert."
"Yes. And with that in mind, this one proposes Khajiit remain here in hiding while this one continues onto the next trade stop, which is Tel Windstad, a territory of the manes you seek. Khajiit will send word to the manes to look here. This one hopes that by then, the missing Khajiit will have also found their way here."
"This one understands and approves.
They walked south to find the road that would go past Dawnstar and eventually lead them to Tel Windstad at the swampy border between Hjaalmarch and Haafingar. They pushed themselves to make up for lost time despite Ma'dran having stated days before that being late in their schedule was not detrimental to their bottom line profits. But he was feeling a sense of urgency, and he'd learned never to ignore certain feelings coming from his gut.
They heard the pounding of a galloping horse behind them. Soon, horse and smaller rider came into view.
"Khajiit! Khajiit!" Olaf yelled as he clumsily his horse back from its gallop. "Dominion soldiers showed up at Alice's place. "They're killing all her cats." He slid off the horse, collapsing from exhaustion. It was clear he wasn't an experienced rider. This was probably his first time on a horse. And the horse was old, probably a farm nag pressed into messenger service.
"Is Alice harmed?" asked Ma'dran.
"No. Da and Uncle Vard are in the house with her. They're holding her back because she's mad enough to attack those damn elves with her cane. The Dominion came inside to kill any cats they found there, but they said they wouldn't harm her if Da kept her from interfering. Uncle Vard gave me his plow horse and told me to find you. Cousin Anna went to Dawnstar to tell the Jarl. I hope she made it. But she's on foot, and she won't be able to outrun those elves even if they don't know the land like she does."
"Back to Alice's house," said Ma'dran.
Back to save Sho'maru of Dune. His magicka crafting shop made the expensive, magic satchels that all caravan leaders who worked for Ri'saad were entitled to wear. This meant Khajiit were not burdened down with the animals and/or wagons required to carry their wares. After getting Olaf's assurance that he would be fine on his own, Ma'dran and his guards started back to Alice's house at a ground-eating fast jog they could keep up for hours.
The wind carried the smell of blood and the angry, terrified, agonized howls of many little beasts. The magic tracer tool Ma'dran had traded the Jarl for blazed bright with the magic it was detecting.
The two Justiciars wastefully expended power to charge the many lightning bolts they flung a their small targets. The footsoldiers were more efficient with their bows. The Altmer Justiciars had brought Bosmer sharpshooters. Those mercilessly pinned the brutes and their kittens to the ground and the trees with enchanted arrows that ruthlessly burned their targets, making it impossible not to scream even if only wounded, which made them easy to target the second fatal shot. There would be no survivors.
They were not insane to attack the Dominion. As planned beforehand, Ma'hjad would continue to Dawnstar while he and Ra'zhinda would go to Alice's house and get her out of there.
It was blessedly dark when they arrived. The outside torches and lamps were unlit. "Sven! Open the door. It is Ma'dran."
The door cracked opened.
"Get in. Your little orange friend managed to sneak in here after those damn butchers finished killing all the inside cats."
The Khajiiti slipped in. Sven was armed with a small club and hatchet. A second Nord male, standing to one side of the door with larger wood axes in both hands, nodded at Ra'zhinda. That one was Vard, the Dawnstar soldier assigned to Ra'zhinda's search party. "She's with Garfield in her bedroom," he told her, automatically assigning Ra'zhinda the role of sister/comforter to Alice.
The brutes. Ma'dran looked around, his eyes finally fixing on a large burlap sack sitting in a pool of blood. Furniture was overturned and broken. There were scorch marks on the wall and the herbs drying on the rafters were burnt crisps. He could hear Alice sobbing in the other room and his lips curled at this violation of her peace.
Sho'maru bounded out of the bedroom. Ma'dran could hear Ra'zhinda doing her part to comfort the mad Alice and help her pack for travel.
"The Dominion had been watching from afar," said Sho'maru wearily. "Thalmor filth knew Khajiit is here. Thalmor filth didn't hesitate to ruin this house, but did not kill nor threaten with personal harm for believing Alice mad and ignorant. The other Nords were in more danger. Nords were delivering firewood and foodstuff and dared challenged the Dominion. The Justiciar in charge told Nords to keep the mad one confined else all would be killed."
Ra'zhinda came out of the bedroom. "Alice cannot stay here," she declared. "Alice knows the Khajiit the Thalmor search for. If questioned deeply, Thalmor may recognize the benefit of capturing Alice." She lowered her voice and stepped closer to Ma'dran. "This one has listened and recognizes the same madness of otherworld knowledge like Master Curtis. Does Khajiit recall the conversations with Master Curtis when he has had too much to drink?"
Ma'dran made himself recall those evenings. Master Curtis often came to their camp when they were at Winterhold or invited them to the inn at Tel Windstad to talk trade and his newest little crafts that he thought they could sell. He avoided moonsugar and appreciated the brandies Ma'dran would bring in from the Empire. When tipsy and half asleep, he would sometimes tell of fantastical machines and powers he swore were not of magicka. Yes, if he compared the pattern words and thoughts, there were strong similarities. If poor Alice had this same knowledge…
He did not want to think how the Thalmor would tear apart what's left of her fragile mind to harvest such knowledge.
Ma'dran and Ra'zhinda would run away with Alice and Sho'maru. Sho'maru had been waiting for his people to find their way to him. Two had made it, but he suspected that Thalmor had already captured them. The Nords would try to return to Dawnstar. They told the Khajiiti to think no more of them. If they survived, they said they would send word through Ahkari.
Alice had only some clothes and small tokens from friends that she wanted to take with her. They went into Ma'dran's satchel. From the satchel he took out one of the strong but lightweight pack frames being manufactured in Winterhold. "External backpack frame," is was Curtis called it. It was of lightweight metal with padded straps and belt with the new snap-together buckles of bonemold. An advanced version of the wood frames one often used to carry logs and other large, heavy bundles on one's back.
Alice was seated on the frame's fold down ledge and they strapped her to the frame to prevent her from falling off. Ma'dran hoisted it onto his back. A wide, padded belt transferred weight to his hips. A front sternum strap connected the two shoulder straps, shifting some of the weight from his shoulders, allowing better movement for his arms. He added loops to the belt for Alice's feet to rest in. Ma'dran also wore a rucksack on the front of his body which Sho'maru would ride in. Ra'zhinda put aside her plain steel sword and shield to arm herself with sales stock items of a lightning enchanted sword and a magicka-reduction shield.
The Nords made their run first. This would distract the Thalmor only briefly. They would quickly realize that the Nords had abandoned Alice. They would likely relax and take time to laugh at the cowardly Nords leaving behind the mad cripple they had first tried to defend. And while the Thalmor were distracted, Ma'dran and Ra'zhinda would start their run. Hopefully, they would not immediately check to see that the Imperial woman was still in her home only to discover she was gone.
Ma'dran muttered a prayer to Baan Dar, Bandit Cat, for success in cheating the Thalmor of their prey, and began his brutal run to Tel Windstad. Ra'zhinda went her own way to erase his path and lay a false trail for the Thalmor.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
The Khajiiti lounged about in the main room of the small house loaned to them for their stay in Tel Windstad. They were stuffed with good food and were now leisurely sampling wines and ales. Baan Dar had rewarded them with the payoff that Master Curtis had been in town the day Ma'dran had arrived with his precious cargo. Curtis had sent out the town guards Dunmer to find Ra'zhinda and Ma'hjad. The gurads had also captured the Thalmor invaders. Half of the Dominion soldiers were slain and the rest, including the two Justiciars in charge, had been captured and turned over to Jarl Brina.
Captured Thalmor patrols were never acknowledged by the Dominion Embassy. The Thalmor never claimed their failures. The Stormcloaks were free to do them as they liked. Jarl Brina would likely turn them over to King Ulfric.
Ra'zhinda had many minor injuries from playing with the Bosmeri soldiers, dodging their arrows and fighting off the bears and wolves the Bosmeri bespelled with their powers and sent after her. Ma'hjad had been delayed when he'd found the missing Nord girl who had tried to run to Dawnstar. She'd been shot by the Thalmor and left to die. Ma'hjad had noticed a gathering of wolves. He heard her weak, defiant shout, and run to her in time to fight off the wolves. Her injuries put her near death, and she surely would have died if he'd tried to carry her. He chose stay and treat her a few hours until her condition was stable enough for the journey. The Nords at Dawnstar were understandably suspicious when a Khajiit came to their gates bearing the bloody body of a familiar child. Jarl Brina had been swift to hear him out and had mustered her soldiers to go to Alice's place. Between her soldiers and the Tel Windstad guards, the Thalmor raid party didn't stand a chance.
"I owe you guys big time for bringing Alice to me," stated Curtis. The Dunmer looked immensely pleased.
"And Sho'maru of Dune. Was that not also a beneficial meeting?" asked Ma'dran.
"Him? Oh, yes. He's a genius. We'll definitely collab in the future, but right now he just wants to concentrate on studying Dwemer mathematics and engineering principles, and he'll tell me when he's ready to try some projects. But Alice, that lady's a godsend. She's got talents I can make immediate use of."
"That one is delicate of mind," said Ma'dran.
"Yeah, I noticed. Like me, there are two souls in one body. Alice is the body. We're trying to figure out which patron god arranged this. I know it isn't Jhunal. And the host she got stuck in was really messed up physically and mentally," he added under his breath. Only Khajiiti ears were sensitive enough to pick up that last comment.
"Perhaps not a Nord god," suggested Ma'dran. His ears, and the ears of his companions were pricked forward in interest.
"Two souls in one body… Like me." There were rumors in Winterhold that Curtis had another name among the Dunmer. The Dunmer of Solstheim, to be precise, who whisper that on Solstheim, Curtis had been a thuggish lackey of a money-lender. Yet this thug, upon leaving Solstheim and coming to Winterhold, had suddenly taken a new non-Dunmer name and became an impossibly brilliant engineer of the lost Dwemer sciences.
"You think someone from the Khajiiti pantheon because she's cat mad? Interesting. Unfortunately, I couldn't even begin to guess because I don't know your gods. Which one would you pick and why?"
"Ja-Kha'jay. That one dances to protect Nirn from the anger of Ahnurr, the dance of the Lunar Lattice. Khajiiti forms and aspects are tied to the steps of the dance. This one thinks Alice came between the steps and is therefore of uncertain aspect."
"So, not Skooma Cat kissed?"
"It is easy to think so, but no. That one is as sane as Curtis when Curtis talks science and inventions." The Dunmer leaned back in his chair and laughed.
"Gotcha. Yeah, she's got a kink in her thoughts like a limp in her walk. So… A wallflower plucked by the Lord of the Dance."
"This one thinks this 'Lord of the Dance' Dunmer speaks of is not quite the same as Ja-Kha'jay."
"You tell me. The one I'm thinking about is known as Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer. 'Shiva' is the one name I know him by, but I know his name changes depending on which aspect he manifests. His is actually a complex religion which I don't fully understand, so that's all I know about him. And Alice, well, her name before she became Alice was 'Rachana Subha,' and she came from the country that worships him.
"'Ra'shanha' is a beautiful name, the name of one of the minor spirit dancers who support Ja-Kha'jay," said Ma'dran. "There must be a great purpose if Ja-Kha'jay has sent that one to Mundus."
"Don't know about that, but I do know I need her. You'll have to tell me later how to show my respect to Ja-Kha'jay."
Curtis abruptly slapped his knees with both hands and rose from his seat. "Well, I need to get going. Got a schedule to keep and need to leave town in a couple of hours if I'm to keep it. I suppose we'll meet again during your regular stop in Winterhold. Alice will be staying in town for a while under the care of the healer mages here. Be sure to stop by your warehouse before resuming your route. I dropped off a load of new music box toys for sale. You're getting a below-manufacturing cost discount for delivering Alice and Sho'maru to me."
The three Khajiiti purred as they calculated the profits from future sales.