Writing is both my source of pleasure in its doing, in its being done for me by others whose writings I read with either pain or pleasure, and a sourse of wonder at the mystery of the craft that can be done with words. Words, so simple to learn, and so hard to use well. And such a source of magic when they are used well consistently, chapter by chapter.

As Helena has done.

Let us look at this latest chapter of hers.

I packed up as many of my belongings as I could and set out for the fort, now so tired that I was literally close to collapse. Upon arrival, I rolled into the first bed available and fell into a long, mercifully uninterrupted sleep.

How many writers tell a story, and forget that their creations are human, in need of food, sleep, a bath and the toilet? Many...me included. The addition of these touches bring a strong foundation of realism to the story. Aspiring writers *which as almost the same as aspirin writers* take note!

"What's the matter, Ada?"

"He's gone," I said dully.

"Gone? Who's gone?"

"Caius. I visited him just last night, and now he's? well, gone."

"Oh, sweetheart." To my immense surprise, she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. "Men are such beasts, aren't they? But Ada, my love, I'm sure an attractive girl like you can do better than that." She wrinkled her nose. "To be quite honest, none of us could understand what you saw in him in the first place."

I opened my mouth to protest, and then closed it again. What did it matter now, anyway? "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Take my advice, and find someone closer to your own age. One of those strapping lads at the Fighters' Guild should be just your type." She winked. "After all, you know what they say about the best way to get over a man?"

I'd heard that expression, yes. Maybe it was time I found a boyfriend, I thought. After all, it looked like I was going to be here for quite a while yet. And it was certainly long enough since I'd last slept with anyone (though given that I'd spent most of that time in prison, that was probably a good thing).

Ah...

:rofl:

And now, wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes, I will say this to the forum:

How many writers could not only pull off that superb touch of humour, but do it in such a way as to be perfectly balanced in its place in the chapter? Look at where that passage is placed. Just after the frightening encounter with the sleeper at the bridge, and the tension of having to explain that no, you do not have an infectious disease any more...

And returning to our humour, that touch of not sleeping with any prisoner in prison being a good thing :rofl: was the icing on the cake! Ah, Helena, long may the lubriciousness of your levity leaven the lightness into our love-laggard souls!

(And if anyone's laughing at that loquacious locution, leave off the lampooning, lemurs - levity loves lovely, lissome and light lubriciousness!)

But now...

Even I could have done a better job of writing a 'coded' message based on the spy novels I'd read as a teenager.

H!E!L!E!N!A!!!!

*YES I borrowed that use of exclamation from you. Do not be annoyed - say not they that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?*

*now say you forgive me, or I fear that I shall have to progress to the sincerer forms of flatulence*

:rofl: Sorry...TERRIBLE joke...but those chilis and nachos I ate last night are beginning to give of ominious signals even as I type this...

...you could call it realism in critique...

:rofl:

But to get back to our subject...

I THINK THEY DO NOT REPEAT DO NOT HAVE SPY NOVELS IN MORROWIND!!!!

That jarred me out of the enjoyment of the story... all the more annoying because I LOVE Ada's Cockneyesque characteristic of commenting simultaneously naively AND sarcastically on anything and everything she sees and hears. (I wonder how many have noticed that cultural trait? But it is so sooooo lower London, and delightfully so at that!)

And while we're on the subject...

I flew up to the back door Alvela had mentioned and cast the amulet's enchantment before braving the Ministry of Truth ? probably the first time a non-Dunmer had ever entered it except as a prisoner.

What...

No sardonic comment on the Orwellesque connotations of the 'Ministry of Truth'??? I THOUGHT my lovely bumbling, brusque and beautiful Ada would have said something like...

Ministry of Truth. It seems all these official types grow oblivious to irony when they're in office. What sort of Truth does a ministry advance, anyway, when all people who speak a 'truth' different from theirs are thrown into the clink? And why aren't there any Ministers when there are Ministries all over the place?

Alas, it's all YOUR fault, Helena my dear. You have Ada-ized my brain. I have even caught myself spouting Adaspeak in unguarded moments.

OT:

"I have a friend named Blatta Hateria

Is it only ME who breaks out into giggles whenever I see that name?

Back on Topic:

As we walked up the steps to the monastery, Mehra told me that it had once been a shrine to Azura ? I just couldn't get away from Her Twilightness, it seemed.

See what I mean? It's those sardonic comments that make Ada into...Ada.

*and of course Helena into Helena*

And finally:


She shrugged. "These people are our ancient enemies. Like all man races, they are of inferior blood, but otherwise are human in every respect. Are they capable of enlightenment? Do they have souls? Who can say?"

I gazed at her for several moments in stunned silence. Had she just said what I thought she had said?

Now don't get me wrong: while I've met people of every race who don't fit the usual stereotypes, I have to admit that for the most part they largely hold true. The Nords are hard-drinking louts who live for fighting, the Khajiit have refined thievery into an art form, and we Cyrodiils will talk you into selling your own grandmother and then haggle over the price. Deep down almost everyone prefers their own people and culture, and anyone who tells you they don't is probably lying. But to convince yourself that your own race really is better, that being born Altmer or Imperial or Dunmer actually makes you a superior being ? that's a different matter entirely.

Here was an intelligent, educated woman, with several human friends, open-minded enough to challenge the doctrine of the Temple she belonged to ? and yet she was questioning whether Nords (and by extension, all humans) had souls. Did she even realise she was talking to a member of the 'inferior' man races? From the faraway expression on her face, I got the impression that she'd completely forgotten. But even if she hadn't, I suddenly realised, it didn't matter ? from her perspective she was just making a simple statement of fact. Almost all Dunmer probably felt that way, even if they were better at hiding it.

Suddenly I felt a long, long way from home. Who the heck was I kidding, thinking that these people would ever accept me as their Nerevarine? I had to get out of here.

Not just the writing, but its place in the story, is a small gem. It is...there is no other word...brilliant.

Here the story has wandered along, with adventure and humour placed in cleverly balanced apposition, and then suddenly a swift change of pace into philosophy...Ada's revelation of the depths of Dunmer Arrogance, and her ruminations thereof, is a mood shift in the story that keeps it from sinking into cliche. It comes at just the right moment, and strikes just the right tone, as well.

Do most of you, dear readers, see how frequently Helena has done this? Ah, the CRAFT of your writing, Helena! How often in your chapters have you mixed pathos, slapstick, mischief, horror, and humour in a rich and varied seven course meal for the delectation of your readers? I humbly admit that next to Ada's arias I am but a one-note singer plunking away at a tinny string. Long may the symphonic swell of your sentences sentence to reader to rapture.

I find that in shame I must stop, or sound lame: and thus, Helena, I end with a plea for - more of the same!!!

:P

:lol:

:thumbsup:

^ Wow, Foxy....

I'm impressed, Helena; you brought the chapter out quite quickly. And it was absolutely brilliant, too. Thank you for this awesome fan fic, it really does brighten up my day.

As always, I can't wait for the next one! :goodjob:

Whoa, Foxy, what a review! Just to address some of the points you raised:


...why not, though? They have novels about everything else (in fact, you could describe books like the 'Mystery of Talara' series as 'spy novels' as they feature the Blades). In Oblivion we find out that one character plans to write a series of adventure novels featuring the Doomstones, clearly the Tamrielic equivalent of trashy pulp fiction. To me it seems quite possible, indeed likely, that they have spy novels in Morrowind (or at least in Cyrodiil, where Ada grew up).


She already made one back in Chapter 10 I don't blame you for forgetting, though, given how long ago it was posted.

I first heard that comment about 'Nords' - which is taken word-for-word from the game - from Mehra Milo in Holamayan. I was playing a Nord character at the time, and I was genuinely shocked. That said, I think it actually makes the story more interesting, rather than reducing everything to the simplistic 'EVIL RACIST Sixth House vs. outlander-friendly Dissident Priests'.

Finally, some more screenshots:

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot5.jpg
http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot6.jpg
http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot18.jpg http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot20.jpg

:ahhh: You managed to post on that one day I wasn't here.

:goodjob: once more

Foxy, when are you going to continue your story?

I hesitate to disagree with my friend D.Foxy since he is so darn right so darn all the time. ^_^

However...

I thought nothing of Ada's spy novel comment. Considering the quirky, anachronistic style of Ada's speech that makes her so delicious, it simply invoked a thought perhaps of some of the books like Helena mentioned. :shrug:

:whisper: Note that it is with trepidation that this Apprentice dares inject at all between the musings of two such masterful writers....

I can't stand the wait! When do we get our next fix?

Chapter 22: Two's Company

Seconds after casting the spell, I landed in some kind of outdoor courtyard and promptly choked on a mouthful of red dust. As I blundered around in the storm, trying to work out where the hell I was, I realised that I was standing on the open-topped plaza of a Vivec-style canton. Had I gone mad, or had the Blight suddenly spread to the Ascadian Isles while I was travelling to Holamayan?

It finally emerged that I had landed in Molag Mar, a Temple stronghold on the coast of the Molag Amur region (best described as 'like the Ashlands, only worse'). Since I had absolutely no desire to stay there, I hopped on board the first available boat and settled in for the slow journey back to Vivec. When I arrived and went to the Fighters' Guild to repair my equipment, I was accosted by the steward Lorbumol gro-Aglakh.

"I've been looking for you, Ventura," he said, giving me a hearty slap on the back. "Fancy taking on a debt collection job?"

I hated that kind of mission. I was about to mumble some sort of excuse when he continued, "2,000 septims, and you get to keep half of it."

Wow. I had to admit, I could really use that kind of money right now. "Who owes the money?" I asked, privately wondering whom it was owed to as well.

"A woman called Lirielle Stoine, at the Rat in the Pot tavern in Ald'ruhn."

Damn it. I'd got to know Lirielle quite well during the time I'd spent in Ald'ruhn, and I rather liked her ? besides, I felt I owed her one for helping me get those shirts back. Perhaps, if all else failed, I could help her the way I'd helped Tongue-Toad.

As I left the guild, I noticed a crowd of people gathered around a 'Wanted' poster pinned to the wall. "Have you heard?" one of them said excitedly. "Somebody broke into the Ministry of Truth and freed a prisoner!"

The poster offered a very large reward for information on the intruder, described as 'of unknown age, race and six' ? clearly the other prisoners hadn't talked. I fervently hoped that no one would ever collect that reward. Given that it also described the unknown intruder as 'a powerful spellcaster', it didn't seem very likely.

I went to Ald'ruhn via the Mages' Guild and headed over to the Rat in the Pot to eat lunch, while thinking over the problem of Lirielle's debt. I decided it would be better not to ask her about it directly ? if she knew the Fighters' Guild had sent me after her, she might clam up. When I finished eating, I went to Lirielle and quietly asked her if I could speak to her in private for a minute. She nodded and led me to a storeroom beneath the tavern.

"I know about your debt problems," I said, as soon as I was sure we were alone. "Don't bother asking me how. I just wondered if there was anything I could do to help."

Lirielle looked taken aback. She hesitated for a moment, but finally shook her head. "My brother Ruran is dead," she said flatly. "At least, I believe he is. The Camonna Tong said he owed them money, which I don't dispute ? but now they say I owe my brother's debts, and I just don't have the money. How can I pay what I don't have?"

Damn, it was worse than I thought. "Why do you think your brother is dead?" I asked her.

"He knew he was in debt," she said, shrugging. "He went off to 'seek his fortune' in some place called Mallapi northeast of Gnaar Mok, and I haven't heard from him since. That was two months ago."

After what had happened in Ilunibi, the mere mention of Gnaar Mok was enough to make me shudder. What was more, I suspected Lirielle was right about her brother ? it was possible he was still alive, but after two months, the chances weren't high. Even so, I felt I ought to at least offer to search for him.

"Would you like me to go there and look for him?" I asked.

Lirielle sighed. "Thank you for offering to help, but I very much doubt you'll find him alive. And even if you do, he's not likely to have the money."

I got the feeling there wasn't too much love lost between her and her brother, given how little she seemed to care whether he was actually dead or not. Still, looking for Ruran was one option; maybe Percius Mercius would have some better ideas.

I didn't go to him immediately, though; instead I went to Skar to visit Athyn Sarethi, my House Redoran sponsor. As usual he appeared warm and friendly, even taking time to introduce me to his wife Domesea, but after my conversation with Mehra Milo it all seemed rather hollow. Did he feel the same way about humans, underneath all the friendliness? I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter ? after all, he was still my best hope of ever getting off this godsforsaken island.

Athyn must have sensed that something was wrong. "Are you all right, my friend?" he asked, once we had retreated into his study. "I have not seen you in some weeks. I hope all is well?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said quickly. "Just a little? stressed, that's all."

"Why? What has happened?"

Let's see?First I managed to accidentally summon the Daedra Lord Azura, who bullied me into helping her win a bet against Sheogorath. Then I was sent to clean out a Sixth House base and ended up being cursed with corprus disease. To find a cure I had to crawl through the dungeons of a mad Telvanni wizard, then when I got back I was attacked in my bed by a zombie and forcibly promoted to leader of the Emperor's Blades. I broke into the Ministry of Truth to rescue a Dissident Priest, and discovered a secret that could shake the Tribunal Temple to its foundations. Did I mention that I may well be the Nerevarine? "It's? kind of a long story," I told him.

"There is time," he said, shrugging.

I decided not to mention Azura and her bet on the grounds that he wouldn't believe me, and the Dissident Priests business for obvious reasons. Instead I gave him a heavily-edited account of my mission to Ilunibi ? I didn't mention anything about the Blades, only that the Legion had sent me there (which at least was technically true). Amazingly enough, he seemed a tad skeptical of my 'miracle cure' story.

"Are you sure of this, sera?" he asked doubtfully. "In my whole life, I have never heard of anyone recovering from corprus. Could it perhaps have been a less serious disease?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it was corprus," I said, and explained about my visit to Divayth Fyr.

Athyn listened carefully to my story, a neutral expression on his face. If he thought I was lying, he didn't show it. "Well, if this is true, it is hopeful news," he said at last, with a rather sad smile. "I have seen far too many lives destroyed by this disease."

I didn't tell him what Fyr had said about living forever, or the letter I'd been given by Dagoth Gares. He clearly found my tale unbelievable enough as it was, and what was more, I couldn't be sure whether he'd heard of the Nerevarine prophecies ? the last thing I wanted was for him to start getting suspicious.

I asked if there were any more Redoran duties I could perform for him, and he nodded. "I believe there are smugglers operating near the coast in the cave of Shurinbaal. Before I send you to investigate, though, I must ask another favour of you."

"What is it?"

For the first time since I'd met him, Athyn looked slightly embarrassed. "I would like you to take my son with you."

Ah. "Varvur is my youngest child, and my only son," he continued. "He is a good son, but I believe my wife and I may have? over-indulged him a little. He needs some occupation that will give him a sense of purpose, and distract him from his grief over his friend's death. Would you be willing to help me?"

I didn't see any reason to refuse. Back when I worked for the Cyrodiil Fighters' Guild, middle-ranking members like me were often charged with taking care of the new recruits ? a task we sarcastically referred to as 'babysitting'. On one particular job I'd even managed to end up with Vitellus Donton, the Guildmaster's son. That was one heck of a nerve-racking mission, I can tell you.

"Of course," I said, mentally adding 'keep sponsor's son alive at all costs' to my list of mission objectives. "I take it he does know how to fight?"

Sarethi nodded. "He has training, but little experience. I hope he will not be a burden to you, but we must all begin somewhere."

We agreed that I should come back the next morning to collect Varvur before setting off for Shurinbaal, yet another cave near to Gnaar Mok (how had this wretched little village got to be such a hotbed of underworld activity?). Since I was going there anyway, I thought I might as well pop into Mallapi on the way and see if I could find any trace of Lirielle's brother. Athyn also told me that he suspected the smugglers had a contact in Ald'ruhn, and asked me to investigate.

I spent the rest of the day in Ald'ruhn before going out to spend the night at Buckmoth Legion Fort. The next day I returned to Sarethi Manor, where Varvur was waiting for me in his room. He wore a full set of bonemold armour and looked distinctly nervous.

"Kinsman," he murmured, giving me a weak smile. "It is good to see you again."

I smiled back, trying to put him at his ease. "Hello, Varvur. I don't think we were ever properly introduced. I'm Ada Ventura." I held out a hand, forgetting that it wasn't the custom among the Dunmer. He took it awkwardly and held it in both of his for a moment before letting it drop.

"I know. I will always remember what you did for me when I was in trouble." His face flushed slightly, and he lowered his eyes to my Legion cuirass. "You are a Legionnaire, then? I didn't realise."

"Yep. Knight Errant, as it happens." There was an awkward silence. "Okay, let's get down to business. What sort of weapon do you prefer to use?"

He shrugged. "I can fight with swords, or spears. Which is better?"

"Whichever you're best at," I told him. "Remember, this isn't a drill. These guys aren't going to go easy on you just because you've never done this before."

Varvur eventually chose a spear (I had to resist the temptation to ask whether he had an Argonian maidservant to polish it). He said goodbye to his father and his distraught-looking mother, who seemed one step away from flinging her arms around him and sobbing "My baby!", and then we set off ? out through the gates of Ald'ruhn and down the long, boring, cliff racer-infested route to Gnaar Mok on the coast.

I tried to engage Varvur in conversation as we went along, but he didn't seem to have much to say for himself. I got the impression he was either very shy, or slightly in awe of me, or both. New recruits to the Guild would normally be ruthlessly mocked until they got over their shyness, but for once I held back ? I'd no idea if Varvur was the type to run crying to Daddy if he thought I was being mean to him, but I wasn't going to risk it. Besides, in all honesty, I thought the poor kid had been through enough humiliation recently.

"Are you all right?" I asked eventually, when we stopped by the wayside to rest and eat.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I know I am not good company right now, but? I was thinking about my friend, Bralen Carvaren. I still feel as if this was all my fault."

"How was it your fault?" I asked. "Didn't the priest say that your mind was being affected by that ash statue?"

"But I should have realised! If I had only told someone about those dreams?" He clenched his fists. "But I didn't, and now my best friend is dead. I can never forgive myself."

Oh, boy. "Varvur, can I offer you some advice?" I said. "Don't waste time beating yourself up over it. It won't change what's happened and it won't help anyone, least of all you. I've been there, believe me."

He nodded wearily. "I know. My father says this as well?. but it is difficult."

"At least you had a good excuse," I pointed out. "I ? I knew someone in Cyrodiil who killed a guy in a fight. She didn't have any excuse; she was just drunk. It was an accident, but she ended up being jailed for murder." I paused. "I guess? I'm saying it could be worse, that's all."

"You're right, of course." He gave me a rather strained smile. "Forgive me. I shouldn't be troubling you with my problems."

Neither of us said much else until our next rest stop just outside Gnaar Mok, when I decided it was time to set down some ground rules. "Okay, Varvur, listen up! Before we go hunting smugglers, there's a few rules you need to know about." I paused. "Tell me, have you ever actually killed anyone before? Er ? in battle, I mean?" I added hastily, wanting to kick myself for my tactlessness.

Varvur hesitated slightly. "I have killed before? but only animals, on hunting trips. Not people."

"Okay, so at least you're not a complete beginner. Anyway, Rule Number 1: If we get into combat you do exactly what I say, at once, without question. Got it?"

"Yes, Kinsman."

"Call me Ada," I said. "Rule Number 2: make sure you stay out of my way at all times. Don't go ahead of me unless I tell you to. Don't even think about getting between me and an enemy I'm trying to fight." I winced reflexively. "This little Bosmer guy in the Fighters' Guild tried that once and nearly got his arm lopped off. Don't be like him."

"No, sera ? Ada."

"Number 3: if I give you advice, remember it. I want you to think it over afterwards and include it in your practice sessions. Got it? Okay, let's go."

The small collection of rotting shacks on Gnaar Mok island looked even more dismal than I'd remembered. I didn't really want to talk to any of the locals, in case the smugglers had contacts in the village, but as I had no idea where Shurinbaal was I didn't have much choice. The first person I met was the same Wood Elf I'd spoken to on my last visit, still sitting hunched-up on the steps of his hut.

"Are you here to kill the breeding netch?" he asked, as I approached.

"Breeding netch?"

"There's a pair of them just north of here. We drove them off a few times, but I'm sure they'll be back unless someone does something." He scowled. "We've asked the Legion for help, but they keep saying it's 'not a priority'."

"I see," I said knowingly, disguising the fact that I didn't have a clue what a netch was or how to kill one. "Well, I might be able to help if you give me some information. I'm looking for two caves, Shurinbaal and Mallapi."

His expression didn't change. "Kill the netch, and then we'll talk."

Resisting the urge to swear at him, I turned away, and then suddenly a good idea struck me. "Okay, Varvur!" I said brightly, turning to my unfortunate lackey. "Time to show what you're made of. Think you can handle a breeding netch?"

"I will try," he said, shrugging. "It seems a shame to kill them, though. They are beautiful animals." The Bosmer just snorted.

We headed out across the narrow plank bridge, and walked slowly northwards until Varvur spotted one of the netch in the distance. I have to admit that my first instinct was to laugh: the thing could only be described as something like a giant floating jellyfish. I didn't see how it could possibly harm anyone, except by exploding and showering them with blue gunk.

"Go ahead," I said to Varvur, taking down my bow. "I'll stay back here and shoot it down if you get into trouble."

Spear at the ready, Varvur bravely advanced on the fearsome jellyfish. I watched as he neatly dodged under its dangling tentacles and thrust the spear several times into its underbelly, then ducked out of the way as it sank to the ground like a deflated balloon. "Not bad," I said approvingly, when he returned. "Okay, I'll tackle the next one."

I managed to shoot down the other netch before it could get anywhere near us. Knights in books got to fight dragons and monstrous sea-serpents, I thought; I got to fight giant jellyfish. Talk about embarrassing ways to die...

We returned to the village, where the Wood Elf thanked us for killing the netch. "Mallapi's north-east of here, and Shurinbaal's south-west on the coast," he told me. "I take it you know the place is crawling with smugglers? Well, it was nice knowing you."

It was getting dark now and starting to rain quite heavily, so Varvur and I wasted no time in looking for a place to sleep. I managed to guilt-trip the village shipmaster into letting us stay in the hold, where we spent a cramped, stuffy, uncomfortable night. I guessed that the smugglers probably did most of their business at night and slept during the day, so we waited until morning in the hope of catching them unawares. Unfortunately it seemed they'd already got wind of our arrival by then, as they were waiting for us.

The moment we entered the cave, we were rushed by two female smugglers in quick succession. The first was a hefty Redguard in bonemold armour, who carried a nasty-looking axe. Luckily she wasn't wearing any leg protection, and Varvur managed to stab her in the thigh with his spear before she could get close enough to attack us, while I tackled the other woman. The battle was quick but messy ? I could only hope the shouts hadn't alerted other smugglers deeper into the caverns.

"Are you all right?" I asked Varvur, who was breathing heavily. It was hard to see in the dim light, but his face looked distinctly paler than usual.

"Yes. I ? " He broke off. "I'm sorry, it is just? all that blood. For a moment it made me think of ? of?"

Gods. I was sorry for him, truly I was, but at the same time I couldn't help feeling slightly exasperated ? I hadn't realised that the job of tutoring Varvur would involve dealing with his guilt complex as well. To say that I wasn't qualified for this would be putting it mildly. I need a raise, I thought, and then remembered that I wasn't even getting paid for this mission.

"Okay, calm down. Deep breaths." I sheathed my sword and laid my hands on his shoulders. "Want to beat a retreat? I could try and take on the rest by myself if ? "

"No! I promise you, I am fine." He was gripping his spear tightly. "It won't happen again. Let's move on."

I was still a bit wary, but finally decided to give him a chance. At least he wasn't fainting, or throwing up, or doing any of the other crazy things raw recruits tend to do.

In the end I was glad I did, because Varvur actually handled himself pretty well. He was nervous, of course, and made mistakes, but he held his nerve and obeyed instantly whenever I gave him an order. I couldn't teach him all that much about fighting with spears, not being very familiar with them myself, but he listened carefully to what I said and seemed to be taking it in.

After dealing with the rest of the guards as quickly and quietly as possible, we finally reached the heart of the caverns and came upon a storeroom blocked off by a wooden gate. There were two people inside; I couldn't see much of them but I could tell by their voices that they were a man and a woman. They were deep in conversation and didn't spot us.

"Do you still have your Chameleon amulet?" Varvur whispered.

I nodded ? I always carried it around my neck these days, just in case. After casting the enchantment, I whispered some instructions to Varvur, then moved to stand just by the gate and motioned to Varvur to walk forward. The two smugglers leapt to their feet at the sound of footsteps and rushed to the gate, drawing their weapons. "What the hell??"

The woman was the first to burst through the gate, and I'd cut her down before I even realised that she was wearing Legion uniform. At the same time Varvur moved forward to tackle her companion, who wore only light armour. The fight was over in seconds.

I bent over the woman's body, astonished and slightly upset to realise I'd killed a fellow Legionnaire. Had she been the smugglers' contact in Fort Buckmoth, then? Or was she just a deserter? "Shame we couldn't take her alive," I muttered. "She might have given us good information."

Varvur had knelt down beside the body to examine it more closely. "An Imperial soldier," he said in disgust. "I should have kno ? "

He broke off quickly, but not quickly enough. "Care to repeat that, Varvur?" I said quietly.

"Forgive me." His face had flushed deep maroon. "Forgive me, Ada. I didn't mean ? I spoke without thinking."

I took a deep breath, trying to control my temper. "Never mind," I said at last, through clenched teeth. "It's not the first time I've heard that, and it probably won't be the last. Come on."

I made to enter the storeroom, but he was blocking my way. "Surely you would not deny there is corruption in the Legions!"

"Well, of course there is! There's corruption everywhere, Varvur! You think everyone in House Redoran is completely honest and upright?" He was silent. "Oh, right, I forgot: you're Dunmer. Only us humans with our 'inferior blood' could possibly be corrupt."

Varvur's mouth fell open. "I- inferior blood? I have never said this!" His eyes glittered with indignation. "Who has said this to you?"

Instantly I regretted bringing it up. "No one important," I mumbled. "Just? someone I thought was a friend, that's all."

"A Redoran?"

"No, not a Redoran." I lifted the dead Legionnaire's body and hauled it away from the door, shoving it into a corner. "Let's get going."

The room beyond turned out to be a veritable treasure trove. Crate after crate revealed piles of smuggled goods worth a fortune: gems, weapons, alcohol, skooma, enchanted jewellery. "We'd better not take any of this," I said, rather regretfully. "The Legion will want to take it in as evidence later on."

No matter how hard we searched, however, we couldn't find a single scrap of evidence connecting the smugglers to anyone in Ald'ruhn. "You could ask the Imperials at Fort Buckmoth," Varvur suggested. "They may have suspects." For now that seemed to be the only option.

We searched the rest of the caverns carefully in case anyone had managed to hide from us, but we didn't find anything. There was only one cave left unexplored, and this turned out to contain a deep, peaceful-looking natural pool. The smugglers had built a wooden walkway over it, with steps leading down into the water. "Might as well have a bath while we're here," I remarked to Varvur.

His eyes widened. "A bath?"

"Yes, a bath. Not together, of course!" I said impatiently. "We'll take it in turns."

He reddened. "I didn't mean ? "

"That's OK." I slung my pack down on a crate and started to dig around in it. "Please don't tell me I forgot to bring shampoo?"

By now he was looking at me as if I were completely insane. "You bring shampoo with you on a mission?"

"Well, yes, of course. What else would I use to wash my hair?" I was still hunting around for soap and shampoo, when I noticed that Varvur was staring fixedly at the water below.

"Ada," he said slowly. "I think? perhaps you should see this first."

I followed his gaze to the water, and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw what he was looking at. Just below the surface of the water, staring right up at us, was a large creature with the head and body of a human, but octopus-like tentacles in place of arms and legs. A dreugh.

"Okay? maybe I'll skip the bath for now," I said rather faintly. I didn't feel quite up to mud-wrestling a dreugh on top of everything else we'd done that day.

We left the cavern and went back to the village to rest, eat and clean ourselves up as best we could, before heading out to Mallapi. It took us quite a while to find the entrance out in the swamps surrounding Gnaar Mok. "What are we looking for here?" Varvur asked, as we stood before the small wooden gate.

"You know Lirielle Stoine at the Rat in the Pot?" He nodded. "I'm looking for her brother. He owes money to the Camonna Tong, and they're pestering her about it."

Varvur's face darkened. "The Camonna Tong? Lirielle never told me this. How did you find out?"

"Long story," I murmured, wishing I'd never agreed to take on this job. How was I supposed to explain why the local mobsters seemed to be using the Fighters' Guild to collect their debts? Especially when they supposedly hated everyone and everything associated with the Empire? One thing was certain: I needed to have a long talk about this with Percius Mercius at some point.

I didn't have much idea what we might find inside the cave, but one thing I certainly hadn't expected to see was a scamp. The frost enchantment on my sword killed it pretty quickly, but it worried me to see Daedra here ? if we ran into a more powerful one in such close quarters, we'd be in trouble. "I wonder how that got in here?" Varvur mused aloud.

"Could have been summoned by a conjurer." We exchanged glances. "Better watch our backs in here, I think."

I really wasn't enjoying the thought of tangling with a bunch of spellcasters, but in the end there was no need ? we found Ruran Stoine's body, or what was left of it, in a pool of water near to the entrance. Clearly the poor guy hadn't had as much luck fighting the Daedra as we had. His corpse was in a pretty disgusting state after lying in a muddy puddle for months, and I nearly gagged at the smell as I reluctantly searched it for any treasure he might have been carrying. I did find an oilskin money pouch, but it only contained about 800 septims ? far less than the 2,000 I needed.

"How will you find the rest of the money?" Varvur asked.

"I'll have to pay it myself, I guess."

He looked at me in surprise. "You would pay her debts for her?"

"I'll get most of it back anyway," I admitted. "Though I'm not sure I actually have 1,200 drakes right now?"

Varvur hesitated. "Perhaps I could?"

"No! Don't even think about it, Varvur." I shook my head vehemently. "Lirielle won't take money from you, and neither will I. This is my job, not yours."

"But if you don't have the money ? "

"I'll sort it out. Don't worry."

"You are kind," he said quietly. "And you have honour." I felt even worse.

We emerged from the cave to find that a raging storm had blown up. There was no way we could walk back to Ald'ruhn in these conditions, so we had to spend another night on board that horrible boat. By the next morning I was really wishing I'd taken the opportunity to have a bath, even if it would have meant fighting off a dreugh first.

We began the journey back to Ald'ruhn after breakfast. Varvur was rather more talkative now that we knew each other better ? I noticed that his Tamrielic seemed more fluent as well ? and we pvssyd about various things along the way. Unfortunately, at one point the conversation somehow drifted onto the subject of slavery. Varvur was brave enough ? or foolish enough ? to admit that he disapproved of abolitionists, and the discussion went sharply downhill from there.

Looking back, I really ought to have known better than to argue about this with a Dunmer, but I couldn't help it ? that particular topic is like a red rag to a bull for me. "How can you do it?" I asked at last. "How can you look a Khajiit or Argonian in the face and tell them that it's all right for their people to be enslaved?"

"You don't understand." Varvur looked frustrated. "Of course I would like to see slavery abolished ? many Dunmer would. But? it must be the Dunmer people who decide this, not the Imperials. After all, it is our country."

"And until that happens?" I demanded. "We're just supposed to stand there and watch people being treated like animals, are we?"

"You have no right to interfere! In Morrowind we believe necromancy is evil beyond words, but we don't invade Cyrodiil to stop your necromancers from tormenting the spirits of their ancestors. You Imperials seem to think that ? "

I hated that expression. "Stop saying 'you Imperials'! We're not a bloody hive mind!"

"All right then, most ? some Imperials seem to think that we are barely more than savages." He heaved an exasperated sigh. "You may rule Tamriel now, but Morrowind was a great nation before Western men were even civilised. Sometimes? sometimes it makes us impatient to hear Imperials preach to us of civilisation."

"Well, I don't see how kidnapping people from their homes and locking them up and selling them on like livestock can be described as 'civilised'," I muttered, without looking at him. He didn't answer.

We walked on in stony silence, right up until we were almost in sight of Ald'ruhn, when I paused to drink some water in the shade of a giant boulder. As I shoved the canteen back into my pack, Varvur shyly laid a hand on my arm.

"Ada?" he said softly. "I apologise for the way I spoke to you earlier. I forgot that you are my superior in the House and I should show you respect, even if ? if I don't agree with what you say. I'm very sorry."

All of a sudden I felt incredibly guilty. This was the second time in two days that I'd blown up at Varvur over something relatively trivial. My behaviour had been at least as bad as his, and I was supposed to be the leader here. No wonder if he hadn't shown me proper respect; it wasn't like I'd done anything to deserve it.

"I'm the one who should apologise," I said. "I've been a complete [censored] this last couple of days, and ? well, I don't really have any excuse. I'm sorry too."

"There is no need. I was the one at fault."

"No, really, I ? " I broke off. "Look, if we don't stop apologising now we'll be at it all night."

"You are not angry with me?"

"Honestly, Varvur, it's fine. You Redorans need to lighten up a bit," I said, with a wink.

"'Lighten up'?"

"Take things less seriously, I mean."

"Ah." A cautious smile hovered around his lips. "Is that an order, Kinsman?"

I grinned. "See? You're getting the hang of it already."

We walked on, Ald'ruhn looming large in the distance. "So you really don't believe humans are inferior?" I said at last, only half-jokingly.

"Of course not," he said, looking shocked. "My father would never have allowed me to believe such a thing. He always says that he owes his life to a human."

"Really?"

Varvur nodded. "He grew up among humans, in Hammerfell. He was sent there for his education. Have you not read the book The Hope of the Redoran?"

"I haven't," I admitted. So Athyn had been educated in the West, had he? That would certainly explain a lot.

As we parted at the gates of Ald'ruhn, I was starting to realise just how hypocritical I'd been. Wasn't I showing as much prejudice as Mehra Milo, by judging all Dunmer on the basis of one person's comment? As I walked towards Fort Buckmoth, where I planned to spend the night, I wondered if perhaps I ought to make that visit to the Urshilaku after all. At the very least, it couldn't hurt to try.

Another gem! I knew it would be, You ROCK!

Varvur eventually chose a spear (I had to resist the temptation to ask whether he had an Argonian maidservant to polish it).

! ...


Naughty girl, Helena! You have been hanging around a certain D.Foxy for too long, and he's corrupted your mind...


:rofl:

...But I am glad that you included my humble advice into your instructions to your raw recruit!

... and on a more serious note, the last part of your story showed more depth of characterization than usual.

:thumbsup:

Ugh, I am truely afraid of drueghs.

Love the story, keep writing

The thing (well, one of the things) that strikes me about this installment is Ada's struggle with the concept of humanity- her own and that of the Dunmer. She is righteous enough to despise slavery and self-aware enough to see the hypocrisy of the Empire's policies- even when she doesn't like to see it.

And then there is the humor, coming at a perfect moment and perfectly understated- "You bring shampoo with you on a mission?"

Excellent as always. To resurrect an old phrase (at the risk of offending the Dunmer sensibility about necromancy)-

S.G.M.

Thank you Helena, for another chapter. Despite its impressive length, it is a quick-paced page turner.

Good idea. :lmao:

:celebrate: Back from my holiday, instant story

:goodjob:

Chapter 23: Humble Pie

Just outside Ald'ruhn, en route to Fort Buckmoth, I came across a Dunmer man standing in the road. He was barefoot, dressed in nothing but pants despite the cold weather, and had a faraway expression on his face as if he was daydreaming about something. While he didn't seem to be in distress, I couldn't help wondering what the heck he was doing out here on such a chilly evening.

"Are you okay?" I asked, walking up to him. "Need any help?"

He fixed me with an icy stare. "You have betrayed Lord Dagoth. Taste his vengeance."

Talos, not this again! "Who are you?" I asked sharply. "Are you following me?"

"We have you in our discerning eye, Ada Ventura." The expressionless tone of his voice made his words even more creepy. "We see you, waking and sleeping."

Okay, this was getting beyond a joke. "Well, you can just take your 'discerning eye' off me," I snarled. "Get away from here, and stay away, or I'll have you arrested. Got it?"

He didn't move. Sighing in exasperation, I wheeled round and stomped off in the direction of Fort Buckmoth. Maybe I could ask the guards to ? hang on, I could order them, couldn't I?

"You two!" I barked at the two Legionnaires who stood guard by the entrance of the fort. They saluted smartly. "There's a guy wandering around half-naked just outside of Ald'ruhn, babbling on about Lord Dagoth. Know anything about him?"

The two men exchanged glances. "Sounds like one of the Dreamers, ma'am," one of them replied. "They've been showing up outside towns and cities all over Vvardenfell. They don't do much, just wander about and talk about how they 'dream dreams' of the 'Sixth House'."

"Okay," I said, sighing. "Well, make sure you keep an eye on him. You never know when he might turn nasty." They saluted again, and I went on into the fort.

The commander of Buckmoth fort was a Nord woman named Imsin the Dreamer (no relation, presumably). When I told her about the Legion soldier I'd killed in Shurinbaal, she confirmed that it was a deserter, Eponis Vinipter. "I believe a man named Drinar Varyon is the smugglers' contact in Ald'ruhn," she told me. "He claims to be studying local pottery techniques, but I'm sure he has Dwemer artifacts hidden somewhere in his house."

"Is there any way I can help?" I asked.

She nodded. "I hate to ask you to break the law, but we need evidence to convict him. Go to his place in Ald'ruhn and bring me any Dwemer artifacts you find inside."

I was much too tired to tackle any more smugglers that day, so I took a long-overdue bath and ate a hearty meal, before settling in for my first good night's sleep in three days. The next morning I bought a Divine Intervention spell from one of the Imperial Cult priests, thinking I'd probably need it now that I was forced to spend most nights out in Legion forts. It was no easier to cast than Almsivi Intervention, but no more difficult either ? and at least it would allow me to avoid these 'Dreamers' as much as possible.

Having learned the spell, I needed to decide which of my current jobs to tackle first. Varvur would have told his father about Shurinbaal, so that was all right. I eventually decided that Lirielle's problem was the most urgent, but I still wasn't sure where I was going to get the rest of the money ? I might just about have that much in my account, but I wasn't keen to dip into my savings to pay off the Camonna Tong. However, thinking about the bank account suddenly gave me a good idea.

I returned to Ald'ruhn and took the Guild Guide to Vivec, where I went to see the manager at the Bank of Vvardenfell. "I'd like to withdraw 200 drakes," I told him. "Also, I have a rather? unusual request."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to take out a loan for 1,000 septims. Only," I continued, "I can pay it back again within the hour."

He hesitated. "You have my ring," I reminded him.

The manager pursed his lips. It was obvious that he wanted to ask me all sorts of things, but wasn't sure whether he would like the answers. Finally he got up, went to a cupboard, counted out some money into a purse, and handed it over to me without saying a word. I got the feeling that ours was going to be a 'no questions asked' sort of relationship.

I went to the Fighters' Guild, paid over the 2,000 drakes to Lorbumol gro-Aglakh, received 1,000 back as a fee, and returned to the bank in just under a quarter of an hour. "Don't ask," I said to the manager. He didn't ask.

My next stop was in Balmora, where I tried out my Divine Intervention spell to get to Fort Moonmoth. Apparently the commander here, Radd Hard-Heart, was the one in charge of the Breeding Netch Elimination Programme for Gnaar Mok. I got a mild shock when I realised that he was the guy who'd caught me with Dwemer artifacts from Arkngthand, but it was nothing compared to his shock when he recognised me and saw my Templar Knight uniform.

He took it in good part, laughing heartily when I explained how I'd risen from raw recruit to Knight Errant in less than two months. "Who'd have thought it?" he guffawed. "So you've dealt with the breeding netch, have you? Good work. Want another assignment while you're here?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to take on anything else right now. "I would, sir, but I'm rather busy ? "

"Well, if you have time, we need someone to go to Arkngthand and collect scrap metal."

Surely he wasn't serious. "Scrap metal, sir?"

"The Ordinators have challenged us to a hunt," he explained. "They claim they'll bring in the skin of a Corprus beast. We plan to do them one better by bringing the scrap metal from a Dwemer centurion."

I was starting to wonder if the Legion brass ever did any actual soldiering, or if they spent their entire time getting into pissing contests with the local forces. "I'm investigating smugglers in Ald'ruhn for Imsin the Dreamer, sir. I'm very sorry."

"Hmph. Well, when you're finished with that you could go looking for that fool Jocien Ancois." His eyes narrowed. "He's been trying to teach the Erabenimsun Ashlanders of Imperial culture and virtue, but apparently some of them don't appreciate his efforts. Can't imagine why."

I had to hide a smile. Hard-Heart might be a Legionnaire, but he was very much a Nord, and I wondered if he'd been on the receiving end of some of Jocien Ancois' lectures. When he marked the Erabenimsun camp on my map I realised that it was right in the middle of Molag Mar, miles away from anything resembling civilisation. I promised to look into it if I was ever in the area (and if I ever worked out how to pronounce 'Erabenimsun' without stuttering).

A couple of teleports later I was back in Ald'ruhn, where I went to the Rat in the Pot to tell Lirielle her debt problem was sorted. She took the news of her brother's death as well as could be expected, without any histrionics.

"Thank you for taking care of his debt," she said quietly, when I'd explained everything to her. "I do miss him, fool that he was."

Now that I'd got that over with, all there was left to do was work out how to get evidence from Drinar Varyon's house. Imsin had made it pretty clear that she didn't mind me going outside the bounds of the law for this mission, but I decided to start by paying Drinar a visit and scouting out the place. Even I had the sense to realise that knocking at his door in full Legion uniform would be a bad idea, so I stored my gear at the Fighter's Guild before walking to Varyon's house. I just hoped he wouldn't recognise me.

Varyon was an 'artsy'-looking type with several piercings in his large, pointed ears. For someone who didn't appear to be wealthy or influential, he certainly seemed pretty full of himself. "What do you want?" he said haughtily, as soon as I entered the house. "I am Drinar Varyon, of the famous Varyon family."

"Varyon family?" I asked innocently.

He frowned. "Surely even a foreigner has heard of the Varyon family?"

"I'm afraid not," I said. "Have you heard of the Ventura family?"

"No."

"Well then."

Varyon's frown deepened. "Well, I do not want to waste my time educating you. I am only here to study local pottery techniques."

I told him that I was looking to buy a redware vase as a gift for one of my friends. While he worked at his pottery wheel (ignoring me completely), I pretended to look at samples of his work, but actually I was scanning the room to try and work out where he could have hidden smuggled goods. There were a good number of crates and chests in the place, but I didn't dare look into any of them with Varyon around. I'd have to come back later on? when he wasn't there.

Over dinner I tried to come up with a plan to break into Drinar's house. I'd have to be very careful ? the Legion might be willing to overlook a spot of breaking and entering, but the local Redoran guards probably wouldn't. I was just wondering what sort of clothes to wear for a task like this, when I suddenly remembered the black garments which Caius had left to me. I really didn't fancy trying on anything that Caius had worn, but on inspecting the clothes I found that they were thoroughly clean ? and, more importantly, enchanted with spells that would improve my sneaking skills.

Just after midnight, I put on my slightly-too-loose clothes and used Almsivi Intervention to teleport from Fort Buckmoth to the Ald'ruhn temple. I made my way to Varyon's house, hiding in the shadows to avoid the guards, and cast an unlocking spell to open the door while no one was looking. Luckily there were still lights burning in the house, though Drinar seemed to be asleep in the room downstairs.

I carefully began to search the house for evidence, praying that Varyon wouldn't wake up and hear me. There was nothing of interest in the crates ? only food and other provisions. The chests looked more interesting, but unfortunately the locks were simply too tough to pick or break, even with an Ondusi's Unhinging scroll.

Frustrated, I looked around for anything else that I could use as evidence. I was just about to give up, when suddenly I noticed something glinting among the rows of pots and vases on the table ? ones which Drinar had told me were not for sale. Looking closely, I saw that it was a small glass tube, of the kind I'd occasionally seen in Dwemer ruins.

That was when it hit me: Varyon was storing the larger goods in his chests and baking the smaller ones, such as coins and these little tubes, into his own pottery. Smart ? but not smart enough to fool Ada Ventura, Legion Investigator.

I was busy congratulating myself on my cleverness when I suddenly realised that I'd forgotten to bring a spell to re-lock the door. Damn! I'd have to act quickly, or Drinar would find the door unlocked the next morning and work out what had happened.

I teleported back to Fort Buckmoth ? by this point I was using so many magicka restoration potions that I was in serious danger of getting addicted ? and quickly explained the situation to the Champion Raesa Pullia, who was on duty that night. She listened carefully and promised to take care of everything.

The next morning, Imsin the Dreamer took me aside and quietly told me that Drinar Varyon had been arrested for smuggling during the night. She rewarded me by promoting me to Knight Bachelor ? just one rank below her own. If I wasn't careful, I'd end up in charge of a fort myself.

Now we came to the part I'd really been dreading: having to return to the Urshilaku camp. If I'd realised I'd have to go back again, I might not have capped off my last visit by throwing a tantrum and insulting their revered wise woman. It didn't help that the more I thought back on that conversation, the more I could see that I really had been unforgivably rude to her. I was going to have to do some serious grovelling to get back into her good books.

What was more, I really wasn't looking forward to yet another trip up the Foyada Bani-Dad. "I wish there were some kind of spell you could use to set a teleport point anywhere you wanted," I complained to Edwinna Elbert at the Mages' Guild. "Like a portable Guild Guide spell."

Her brow furrowed. "Something like a Mark and Recall spell, you mean?"

When I'd finished swearing, she told me that these spells ? which I'd never heard of before, of course ? were sold by a mage called Sirilonwe in Vivec. "While you're there, I have a task for you," Edwinna said airily. "Sirilonwe has somehow acquired a copy of Chimarvamidium, one of Marobar Sul's 'Ancient Tales of the Dwemer'. She is trying to keep it secret, but I must have that book."

"Are you saying you want me to steal it?"

"Not steal!" she protested. "I prefer the word 'borrow'. I will return it later, of course." I hesitated. "Don't think of it as breaking your oath to the Guild, Ada ? think of it as a small favour, for the advancement of the art and science of magic."

I didn't give a stuff about 'the art and science of magic', but I was well aware that Edwinna could easily kick me out of the Guild if I refused ? meaning no more free potions. So, with extreme reluctance, I agreed to 'borrow' the book from Sirilonwe. While the High Elf mage was writing up the instructions for the Mark and Recall spells, I hunted around in her room and found the book in a locked chest. I just had time to pick the lock and stuff the book into my bag before hurrying back to Sirilonwe, hoping I'd be far away by the time she noticed the book was missing.

I brought Edwinna her precious Chimarvamidium, then bought a copy of The Hope of The Redoran to amuse myself on the journey to Maar Gan. I read it with great interest ? it seemed that Athyn Sarethi had once fought his own cousin in a duel to the death, dressed as a barbarian, and armed with nothing more than a wooden club. I must say I found it hard to imagine staid, sensible Athyn doing anything like that. It made me wish I'd known him in his younger, very-slightly-wilder days.

The walk from Maar Gan to the Urshilaku camp was the usual mixture of boredom and nail-biting terror whenever I spotted a cliff racer in the distance. As soon as I arrived at the camp I attempted to cast the Mark spell, hoping I'd never have to make that journey again. Unfortunately it was more difficult to cast than I'd thought, and I quickly found myself running out of magicka.

Before too long, a crowd of Ashlanders had gathered to watch my feeble attempts at casting a simple Mysticism spell. There were sniggers, and several loud comments in the Ashlander language, which was too far removed from normal Dunmeris for me to understand. Just as I was about to burn up with embarrassment, a young girl ? she couldn't have been more than about fifteen or sixteen ? broke away from the group and shyly approached me.

"You cast travel spell, Clanfriend?" she asked in broken Tamrielic. "With the hands, like this."

I watched as my teenage tutor demonstrated the correct hand gestures, and attempted to copy her. After two or three more tries, I finally managed to cast the spell. There was an ironic round of applause from the watching Ashlanders.

"Thank you," I said to the girl. She nodded and ran back to her gaggle of friends, who collapsed into giggles. I suspected it would be an uphill battle to persuade these guys that I was the Nerevarine.

But even this humilation was a picnic compared to my second meeting with Nibani Maesa. When I entered the tent her brows instantly shot up, and she gave me a look that could have frozen lava. "So you have returned, outlander," she said stiffly. "Have you come to insult me and my tribe once more, or have you learned some courtesy in the weeks since our last meeting?"

"Nibani, I'm truly sorry," I said, throwing up my hands. "My behaviour was absolutely appalling, and I know it. You welcomed me here as a guest and I just threw that back in your face. I can't apologise enough." She said nothing. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? A favour, a gift? anything?"

There was a long silence. I was just debating whether falling to my knees would be a bit too melodramatic, when Nibani finally spoke. "Fine words, outlander, but it is your deeds that will truly speak for you. Prove that you have the interests of our tribe at heart, and I will believe you are sincere."

"What do you want me to do?"

She shrugged. "That is your affair. Perform a service to the tribe, or someone in the tribe, and then return to me."

I left the tent even more at a loss than before. What the heck was I supposed to do to help the Urshilaku? In the end I resorted to stopping random people and asking them if I could perform a service for them. Finally one of them told me to talk to Kurapli, the trader.

Kurapli was a young woman with a look of deep sadness in her eyes. When I spoke to her, she asked if I could assist her with a matter of personal vengeance. It seemed that her husband Airan-Ahhe had recently been murdered by Zallay Subaddamael, an outcast Ashlander.

"Zallay betrayed Urshilaku hospitality and killed my husband," she said. "If you could find him, kill him, and bring the justice of his death to me, I can promise you a fine reward ? my dead husband's enchanted Spirit Spear. It is a great treasure, but I would be glad if it might purchase the vengeance that would set my husband's spirit to rest."

I didn't even want an enchanted spear, but this sounded like the kind of thing that might please Nibani Maesa. "Where can I find Zallay?" I asked.

"I have heard that he has taken refuge in a place called Aharasaplit on the island of Sheogorad, the large island north of Vvardenfell," she said. "You might find information in the fishing village of Dagon Fel."

I had to suppress a groan. Not Dagon Fel again! Of course it made sense that a fugitive Ashlander would go as far away as possible, but couldn't he at least have stuck to Vvardenfell island?

After studying my map carefully, I decided that it would be quicker to walk from the camp to Dagon Fel than to return to Khuul, the nearest settlement, and take a ship. But I'd reckoned without the thick fog that descended soon after I began my journey, making it far slower going than I'd expected. To make things worse, the place was crawling with blighted animals, including several massive black beetles (I later found out they were called 'shalk') which attacked with fire magicka when they got close. I didn't dare to stop and rest in case they attacked me while I slept.

By the time I reached the crossing point, where a chain of small islands led over the water to Sheogorad, it was getting dark and I had no magicka left for Water Walking spells. I spent a cold, miserable night curled up under an overhanging rock, constantly jolted awake by the screech of a cliff racer or the growl of an animal in the distance. When dawn came and the fog lifted, it took nearly half an hour for the stiffness to leave my arms, legs and hands.

But when I crossed the water, I had an unexpected stroke of luck. I came ashore on the southern coast of Sheogorad, and immediately spotted a group of tents pitched a little way down the beach. They looked very much like the yurts I'd seen in Ashlander camps.

I cautiously approached one of the tattooed, weather-beaten men milling about outside the tents. "Is this Aharasaplit Camp, by any chance?" I asked, hoping he'd understand me.

He nodded. "Is there a man named Zallay Subaddamael here?"

The man jerked his thumb towards the largest of the tents and turned away. Shrugging, I entered the yurt and found myself facing another man dressed in Ashlander garb. "Zallay Subaddamael?"

"What do you want?"

"I'm here on behalf of an Urshilaku woman called Kurapli," I said. "She tells me you murdered her husband."

I'd expected him to try and defend himself. For all I knew there could be all sorts of extenuating circumstances, and I didn't want to kill him just on Kurapli's say-so. But he just shrugged and nodded.

"No excuses?" I asked. "No explanation for why you killed this guy?" He shook his head. "Well, in that case? I guess I'll have to challenge you to a duel on Kurapli's behalf."

I must confess to being a bit surprised when Zallay emerged from his tent holding a claymore ? a fairly poor-quality one, made of iron, but still a fearsome weapon. It still wasn't really a fair fight, given that Zallay didn't wear any armour, but it was more difficult than I expected. I'd worried that the other men might be drawn into the fight, but they didn't seem to care in the slightest, even when their 'friend' lay bleeding to death on the ground. I thought I'd become de-sensitised to killing over the years, but this was just creepy.

As soon as I was sure Zallay was dead, I walked away from the yurts and cast the Recall spell to the Urshilaku camp. "Zallay Subaddamael is dead," I told Kurapli, realising too late that I didn't actually have any proof of this.

But Kurapli seemed prepared to take it on trust. "I thank you, and do you honour, Clanfriend," she said, and took up one of the spears that lay against the wall of the yurt. "I have long kept Airan-Ahhe's spear. He no longer has any use for it. It is with pride that I pass it on to you, and ask only that you remember his name when you use it."

I wasn't sure what to say. The spear was quite short and light, but it had some useful enchantments on it, and looked valuable. It didn't seem right to take it when I'd only really done this to curry favour with Nibani, and I never even fought with spears anyway. I would have refused it if I hadn't remembered how seriously the Ashlanders took their gift-giving customs.

"Are you sure you can afford to part with this, Kurapli?" I asked softly. She nodded. "Well, thank you. It's beautiful? and I promise I'll remember your husband's name."

By the time I got back to Nibani Maesa, I was feeling distinctly humbled. "So you have avenged Airan-Ahhe's death," she said, when I explained everything to her. "Very well, you have shown that you are a friend to our tribe. I assume you came here to seek my help? Have you found the Lost Prophecies?"

I nodded, and was about to hand them over to her when I remembered that she couldn't read. Instead I had to read them out to her ? over and over again, until she'd learned them off by heart ? and then explain how I'd been cured of Corprus, fulfilling the second of the 'Seven Visions'. I have to admit, I was impressed by how calmly she took the news that the Nerevarine was an outlander ? most religious cults would have been screaming blue murder at that kind of 're-interpretation' of their doctrine. My respect for the Urshilaku had just increased by several notches.

"You must leave me," Nibani said at last, when I timidly asked what she thought of the new prophecies. "Hunt, sleep, train, feed, learn the land. I must place these things before my ancestors, and listen to them, and to the skies and stars of my dreams. And then, when the moons have come and gone, return, and I will give you my judgement."

I was very happy to delay the fatal decision a bit longer, but unfortunately I had no idea what she meant by 'when the moons have come and gone' ? and I was too embarrassed to ask. A day? A month? I decided to split the difference and give it a week.

For all the Ashlanders' kindness, it was still a massive relief to get back to the relative civilisation of Redoran territory. When I finally arrived back in Ald'ruhn by silt strider, it felt almost like coming home. I pondered what to do with Airan-Ahhe's spear and eventually took it to Athyn Sarethi, hoping he might keep it for me.

"Why didn't you return here with my son?" he asked, when we'd exchanged greetings. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of the smuggling operation."

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly realising how rude it must have seemed. "I had? other business for the Legion."

Athyn nodded. "I heard about Drinar Varyon's arrest. I must congratulate you, sera. If you wish it, I will promote you to the rank of House Cousin."

"Really? Well, that's ? " I broke off. "Er? is there any reason I wouldn't wish it?"

He looked solemn. "I will tell you what I told Neminda, and all the other outlanders I have sponsored. Most Redorans will welcome you into the House, or at least not object, but there are some ? including our Archmaster ? who very much dislike seeing outlanders in the higher ranks. I am not saying he would directly oppose you, but if you rise much further you may attract? unwanted attention. That is all."

Well, that did it. I didn't even want the promotion that much, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let Venim scare me off. "I'm not afraid of him," I said defiantly. "I've earned my rank. If it bothers Venim, that's his problem."

"As you wish. I very much hope that you will not regret it."

"Will you regret it, Athyn?" I asked.

"No, I don't believe so." His expression was rather grim. "After you rescued my son, I called an emergency meeting of the Council, where certain matters were? discussed. I do not think there will be any more attacks on me, or my family."

"So it was him sending the assassins?"

He shrugged. "I have no proof, but?" From the expression on his face, it was clear that he didn't need any.

"What a coward," I said in disgust. "He doesn't dare attack you himself, so he sends other people to do his dirty work."

Athyn shook his head. "No, Bolvyn is not a coward. He would love to challenge me openly, but he lacks a pretext."

I wondered what on Nirn could have happened to cause such hatred between the two of them. Not that Athyn actually seemed to hate Venim; in fact, he was almost exasperatingly fair and reasonable towards him. Honestly, people who write books with titles like The True Noble's Code aren't supposed to live up to it. They're supposed to get caught fiddling their taxes, or cheating on their spouse with someone half their age, so that the rest of us can laugh at their hypocrisy and feel better about ourselves.

When I asked Athyn about the spear, he suggested I take it to Varvur, who was training in the Council halls. On the way there I stopped to talk to Neminda, whom I hadn't seen in over a month.

"Yes, Varvur's in there," she told me. "Training very hard from what I see." She winked. "Looks to me like he's trying to impress someone."

I found Varvur practising sword-fighting techniques with one of the drillmasters. He certainly looked like he'd been working hard ? he was drenched in sweat, and his spiky hair had gone a bit floppy. It looked rather cute, actually.

"Ada!" he exclaimed, breaking off from the fight when he saw me. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," I said. "Are you working out for something?"

"Yes, I believe I will soon be sent out on another mission. With a partner, of course." He reddened slightly. "I? was hoping it might be you."

I was genuinely flattered. I hadn't thought he'd want anything more to do with me after our last mission. "I didn't do enough to scare you off last time, then?"

Varvur laughed. "Most Redorans I know would have been much harsher with me! You are a good fighter, and? I like you." He turned away with an embarrassed cough. "Would you like to practise duelling with me?"

I wasn't wearing armour, but I fought a friendly duel with Varvur while the drillmaster was attending to his other pupils. He was a tougher opponent than I'd expected, and suddenly I realised why: I might have more practical experience, but he'd been in training for much longer, probably since early childhood. My parents hadn't even let me take archery lessons until I reached my teens. I couldn't help feeling just a teeny bit jealous.

After that we fought a bout with spears instead of swords, and this time Varvur managed to win fairly handily. "That's a beautiful spear," he said afterwards. "Where did you get it from?"

"An Ashlander woman gave it to me to thank me for avenging her husband's murder."

"An Ashlander woman! Are you serious?" I nodded. "But how did you come to meet her?"

"Well, I travel around quite a bit," I said, as casually as possible. "I've visited the Urshilaku camp a few times."

Varvur was shaking his head. "You are a strange person, Ada. I have lived here all my life, and yet I've hardly ever even met an Ashlander. But you seem to know everyone. Next you will be telling me you've made friends with one of the Telvanni wizards."

"Well, as it happens?"

"Surely you are joking now!"

I just smiled enigmatically, but inside I was getting worried. How long would it be before people started asking serious questions about my trips out to the Ashland regions? With the high profile I seemed to be developing in both the Legion and House Redoran, I'd have to start watching my back.

Your story has me itching to try out Morrowind, lol. All I can say about this chapter and everything else you have written is: You ROCK!

Helena, thank you for another installment. :read: What fun to read this was!

I really like your tongue-in-cheek humor and the almost anachronistic language that Ada uses. It so suits her.

"Smart ? but not smart enough to fool Ada Ventura, Legion Investigator."
"The walk from Maar Gan to the Urshilaku camp was the usual mixture of boredom and nail-biting terror"
:rofl: Brilliant!

If I quoted all the parts that made me laugh out loud while reading (and carefully avoiding ingesting any beverages), I would have to quote the greater part of your chapter. Ada's dry wit and cynicism are such a treat....

Oh, and THANK YOU for pointing out the 'when the moons have come and gone' ambiguity. First time I got that far in the MQ, I was exactly like Ada- "Do what when now?"

A beautiful continuation and a joy to read.

I'm almost caught up after missing this fic for months and I've read all the way up to the beginning of Chapter 23 and have to step away before finishing but I just wanted to say WOW about the last few chapters I've read. Amazing thoughtfulness and level of depth, 21 and 22 are possibly my favorite chapters yet. Brave of you to address issues like racial profiling and stereotypes. Really, really good work, keep it up!

Chapter 24: The Madness Of Lord Mandas

Varvur's hopes weren't disappointed. When I talked to his father the next day, he told me that the priest Lloros Sarano had a mission for me, and that he'd like me to take Varvur along as well. The two of us set off for the Temple to find out what Lloros had in store for us.

Just as we were about to leave the manor, a young Bosmer woman of about Varvur's age walked in through the door. She was stunningly beautiful, with a mass of long blond hair, and wearing a gown which I couldn't have afforded if I'd saved up for a year. The moment Varvur saw her he coloured and mumbled a rather awkward greeting, which she returned, looking equally embarrassed. Hmm, I thought.

"So who's Blondie?" I asked with a wink, once we were outside the door.

Varvur flushed even redder, avoiding my eyes. "Her name is Aeronwen. She's another of the outlanders my father sponsors in the House."

"She's very pretty," I said, stating the obvious.

"Yes, she is." He clearly didn't want to talk about this any more, so I let it go.

We walked over to the Temple, where Lloros Sarano briefed us on our next mission. It seemed that some Redoran soldiers had been sent to a derelict stronghold called Andasreth, where Lloros believed some bandits were hiding out, and hadn't come back. Andasreth was a long way out west, near to Gnaar Mok (of course). It would take another day of walking to get there.

Though I didn't mention it to Varvur, I couldn't help noticing something a little strange about this mission. According to Lloros, four soldiers had left for Andasreth and failed to return? and he was sending two of us to chase them up. Either he had a whole lot of confidence in my abilities, or he just hadn't thought this through very well.

Lloros had made it clear there was no time to lose in finding the missing Redorans, so we set out right away from the west gate of Ald'ruhn. Once again, Varvur didn't seem very much inclined to talk. "Are you still thinking about your friend?" I asked at last.

He shrugged. "Not exactly. But we did once make a hunting expedition on this route, with some of the other Redorans my own age. It's hard not to think about it whenever we walk down here."

"You two must have been very close," I said softly.

"We grew up together. We were more like brothers than friends." He was silent for a few moments. "Bralen's family were kin of the Venims. Venim didn't care about him at all, but that was his excuse for arresting me after Bralen died. He called it 'private justice'." His knuckles were white.

"Venim didn't treat you badly, did he?"

"No, but it was? humiliating. To be dragged to his manor and locked up? and then I found out he had sent assassins to kill my father while I was gone." Varvur ground his teeth. "I only wish I had the strength to fight him. My father might, but I don't."

I hesitated. "Varvur, could I ask you a question? Why do Venim and your father hate each other so much?"

"My father doesn't hate Venim," he retorted. "Venim hates him because he sees him as a threat. If he were to challenge Bolvyn for the title of Archmaster, everyone else on the Council would support him."

"So? no offence, but why doesn't he? I mean, it seems pretty obvious to me that he'd make a better Archmaster?"

"I don't know! He claims that it would damage the House, but in truth I think that he simply does not want to be Archmaster." Varvur stopped walking. "If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Of course."

"Very well: A few months ago, the other Councillors invited my father to a secret meeting at Garisa Llethri's house. They asked him to challenge Venim, and told him that they would all support him as Archmaster."

"So how do you about know this?"

"I heard about it from Garisa's son Sanvyn. Anyway, my father refused outright. In fact, he was quite angry that they had planned this without consulting him." He drew a deep breath. "But Venim found out, and he was furious. Just a few weeks after that, the Morag Tong attacks started."

Good grief. If I'd known half of what was going on in House Redoran before I joined, I'd have run a mile. "How do you think Venim found out?" I asked.

Varvur laughed shortly. "That is no secret. Everyone knows that he and Llethri's wife Fathasa are lovers."

"Watch out there, Varvur," I protested. "Your father made me challenge a Hlaalu noble to a duel for spreading that rumour."

"Well, he should not have done! Let Venim send his own retainers if he wants to defend himself!" He turned sharply away and stomped off down the road, leaving me hurrying to catch up with him.

When we finally came within sight of Andasreth, I could see why the ancient Dunmer had chosen this place to build a stronghold. It was built on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by high mountains, and only reachable by walking straight down a bare, featureless valley. We were too far away to see anyone standing on the building itself, but I guessed that the bandits would probably have lookouts posted. Our only hope was to attack under cover of darkness.

Varvur and I retreated a little way and set up camp, where we ate and took it in turns to sleep while waiting for it to get dark. We finally set off for Andasreth at around midnight. When we got close to the building, I slipped on the Chameleon ring which Larrius Varro, the Fort Moonmoth champion, had given to me. The enchantment wasn't strong enough to be much use in the day, but at night it worked perfectly.

I crept up the steps leading to the main building and pressed myself against the wall, listening carefully. I could hear footsteps up on the roof above, so I guessed that a guard was patrolling up there. As soon as I heard the footsteps recede in the other direction, I beckoned to Varvur, who hurried up to join me as quickly and quietly as possible.

Inside the stronghold, it soon became clear what had happened to the Redoran party that came before us. We were quickly set upon by several roughly-dressed men and women ? some armed with swords or daggers, others with Destruction spells. Any hope I'd had of finding the soldiers alive quickly faded, and vanished completely when we uncovered four decomposing bodies in a locked room.

Varvur entered the room first, and rushed forward with a cry of dismay. The corpses, still clad in bonemold armour, seemed to have been dumped in here as food for the rats that scampered around the room. From the position of the bodies, and the horrified grimaces frozen on the dead men's faces, it was clear that some of them had still been alive when they were thrown in here to bleed to death. Clearly these bandits weren't in the habit of taking prisoners.

"They murdered them." Varvur's face was pale with rage. "They just threw them in here to die like? like animals."

"I'm sorry, Varvur." I laid a hand on his arm. He didn't reply, but muttered something under his breath in Dunmeris that sounded like a prayer.

There was silence for a few moments. "What should we do with them?" I said at last.

"We must take their shields back to Lloros Sarano." He knelt down beside one of the men and carefully lifted up his bonemold tower shield, which was engraved with a picture of an insect ? the Redoran symbol.

"Just the shields?"

"They are the symbol of our House," he explained. "Bringing back the shields will show that these men died honourably, in battle. Their families will come later to take away their bodies for burial."

"So, shall we leave now?" I asked. "Or do you want to finish off the rest of these bastards first?" The look on his face was quite enough of an answer.

When the rest of the bandits had been killed, or knocked out and tied up ? then dumped in the room with the dead Redorans ? Varvur and I made to leave. Both of us were tired, but not tired enough to bed down in Andasreth with a bunch of rotting corpses. Unfortunately, even with my extra strength from my enchanted gauntlets, there was no way I could carry two of the Redoran banner shields as well as my own. An Almsivi Intervention spell would have taken me straight back to the Ald'ruhn Temple, but I'd used up most of my magicka on healing spells.

"I'll just have to leave it here, I suppose," I said eventually. I had to stifle a groan at the thought of being forced to walk out here yet again to collect the shield. Maybe I should just buy a house in bloody Gnaar Mok.

"Will your commanders be angry?"

"I don't know." Certainly I doubted they'd react well to me marching in and demanding a new shield because I'd lost the old one.

I carefully cleaned my shield before leaving it propped up against a wall, and we set off back to Ald'ruhn. It was slower going this time, since we were tired and weighted down by the shields, and by the time we got back the entire town was awake and bustling.

Lloros was sad to hear about the soldiers' deaths, but grateful for the return of the shields. To my surprise, when Varvur told him about me having to leave my Legion shield behind, he offered to give me a banner shield of my own.

"Really?" I asked. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. You are a Redoran and have served us well, so you should have a shield." He smiled. "May it protect you well."

After Varvur had gone home I held my new shield in my hands for a while, examining it. It was as strong as a Legion shield, and a bit lighter as well ? not a bad trade, really. And of course, it was visible proof of my allegiance to House Redoran. Just as putting on my uniform for the first time had made me feel part of the Legion, having a Redoran shield helped me to feel that I really belonged in the House.

I spent most of the rest of the day in bed, catching up on sleep. The following morning I went over to Sarethi Manor to speak to Athyn. I told him that I'd have to leave Ald'ruhn on business in a few days, and asked if there was anything else he wanted me to do for him.

"I do have one more task for you," he told me. "It concerns an old friend of mine, Arethan Mandas. Once he was a great noble of House Redoran, but his manor was destroyed by corprus monsters, and since then I fear he has gone mad. He now claims to be the Lord of West Gash, and is demanding 'tribute' from travellers on the road to Maar Gan."

"Where can I find him?" I asked.

"In the cavern of Milk. Be warned: he has a few loyal followers, and some outlaws have joined his 'estate'." He took my map in order to mark the location of Milk. "But in any case, I would prefer that Arethan be cured of his madness, rather than killed. You might want to go to Ebonheart and speak with his father Llerar, who is the Redoran representative on the Grand Council."

I wasn't sure how anyone could be 'cured' of madness, unless it was caused by some sort of magic like those Sixth House statues. Still, the next day I set off for Ebonheart to see Llerar Mandas, using the Levitation spell from Vivec's shrine to travel there. The priestess selling the Rising Force potions looked even more suspicious than before.

"I hope you would not think of abusing Lord Vivec's blessing for your own gain, outlander," she said pointedly. "For that would be blasphemy, and blasphemy is punishable by ? "

"Absolutely not," I said hurriedly. "I like to pray to Lord Vivec whenever I have the chance, that's all." She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. I decided to buy my Rising Force potions somewhere else from now on.

Llerar Mandas was a distinguished-looking elderly Dunmer, but he was dressed in the strangest suit of armour I'd ever seen. As far as I could tell, it seemed to be made out of pieces of metal from what looked like Dwemer machinery. You can get 'Dwarven' armour easily enough in Cyrodiil ? assuming you're fantastically rich, of course ? but this was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Honestly, I couldn't see how he could even walk in those enormous boots.

Llerar nodded sadly when I told him about his son attacking travellers. "Yes, I heard my son had gone mad. I fear his madness was caused when his daughter, Delyna, was captured."

"Captured?"

He nodded again. "She is being held captive in Tel Fyr, the Telvanni tower of Sorcerer-Lord Divayth Fyr."

"Divayth Fyr?" I exclaimed, with such horror that Llerar looked mildly surprised.

"Yes," he said, with a sigh. "I am not sure how it happened, but if I know my granddaughter, I imagine she was spying on him. I do not want to lose another grandchild to the Telvanni." Another? "Please bring her back to me."

Oh, bloody hell. I could hardly have refused, but inside I wanted to scream. If there was one place in Morrowind I never, ever wanted to see again ? apart from the Sixth House cavern of Ilunibi, of course ? it was Divayth Fyr's Telvanni tower. Of all the wizards' towers in all Vvardenfell, why did Mandas' daughter have to choose that one to get captured in?

At least this time I didn't have to worry about flying, I thought, as I floated back over the ocean to Vivec's Foreign Quarter. I could live without another humiliating scold from Fyr's 'daughters', or whatever the hell they were. Suddenly a truly awful thought struck me ? what if that mad old pervert had decided he wanted Delyna Mandas as a 'wife' as well? It was too horrible to think about.

The journey to Tel Fyr was much easier this time: I simply flew there from Wolverine Hall after teleporting to Sadrith Mora. Inside the tower, I was greeted by one of Fyr's daughters ? Beyte, if I remembered correctly. "Is your father in?" I asked. "I need to speak to him urgently."

"He's up in his study. I hope you've brought enough Levitation potions with you this time," she called after me, as I hurried out of the room. I gritted my teeth and ignored her.

Fyr was sitting at his desk, looking exactly as he had when I last saw him ? it was as if he hadn't moved at all since then. "Hello, Ada," he said cheerfully. "How are you doing? Bit of bad news, I'm afraid ? the potion doesn't seem to work on others. Tried it on two hopeless cases, and it killed them outright ? deader than a garlic snail. But is there anything I can help you with?"

I had a little speech all prepared. "Master Fyr, I need to ask you for a great favour. It's regarding a Redoran woman named Delyna Mandas."

His face was completely blank. "Delyna Mandas? I don't recall her name."

"You? don't?" Okay, this was unexpected. "I, er, was told that you were holding her prisoner."

Fyr shrugged. "Many people try to steal from my tower or spy on me or enter the Corprusarium. I cannot be expected to keep track of them all. If you want to look for her, go right ahead."

"You mean? you would agree to let her go?"

He nodded. "I will not interfere with your escape, but if she returns to my tower, I will not be held responsible."

Talos, the guy was even crazier than I thought. How the heck could you capture a spy, lock her up, and then just forget about her? Well, at least it meant he probably hadn't been torturing Delyna or using her as a test subject for his Corprus experiments. I just hoped someone had been remembering to feed her.

"Well, that's very kind of you," I said at last. "I'm sure her family will appreciate it. This wouldn't happen to be a key to the dungeons, would it?" I asked, noticing a small key lying on the table beside him.

"Oh, I'm sure it unlocks something or other," he said with a wink.

I took the key from the table and set off to look for the room where Delyna was held prisoner. It wasn't difficult to find; there was only one door in the entire tower that looked remotely suitable. Unfortunately the key I'd taken from Divayth didn't seem to fit in the lock. It was too hard to pick, and even my Ondusi's Unhinging scrolls didn't seemed to work.

Over in the next room, Beyte Fyr heard my exasperated grunts and came out to see what was going on. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get this door open, of course," I growled, and then paused. "Er? your father said I could, by the way."

She shrugged with complete indifference. "Would you happen to know where the key is?" I asked.

"No, I don't," she said with another shrug. "It's probably somewhere in the Corprusarium."

"The Corprusarium?"

"That's where my father keeps most of his keys. He lets adventurers plunder the dungeon for treasure."

I closed my eyes briefly. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to cast a spell to open this door, by any chance?"

"No."

"Thought not." I heaved a sigh. "Corprusarium it is, then."

Down in the Corprusarium entrance, I prepared to search the dungeons by casting the Chameleon enchantment on my Amulet of Shadows. "Remember that you must not harm the inmates," the warden called to me as I went by.

What followed was like a twisted kind of treasure hunt designed by an evil madman. I raced around the Corprusarium, avoiding the lumbering corprus monsters, and trying to find the chest which fitted Divayth's key. Each of the chests in turn contained a different key, which opened another of the chests in the Corprusarium ? including one at the bottom of a deep pool (why?!) If I hadn't had the benefit of the levitation and Chameleon spells, I probably wouldn't have made it out alive ? or at least without being forced to kill some of the inmates.

Finally I found what seemed to be the final key. I emerged from the Corprusarium, dripping wet and on the verge of tears, and tried it on the golden door ? only to find that it didn't fit in the slightest. None of the others did either. I nearly howled in frustration.

"What's the matter?" asked Beyte, hearing my strangled cry of rage.

"It doesn't work!" I wailed. "I've tried all the keys, and none of them work!"

"Well, there are other chests within the tower itself," she said calmly. "Perhaps you simply haven't found the right key yet."

It's a good thing Fyr wasn't there to hear the things I threatened to do to him (under my breath, of course) as I searched the tower for even more chests. At last I found one which could be opened by one of the Corprusarium keys. I tried the key from the new chest on the golden door, and finally, finally, it worked.

The door swung open to reveal a surprised-looking Dunmer woman in leather armour. "Delyna Mandas?" I asked wearily.

She nodded. "Who are you? Did my father send you?"

"Your grandfather, actually." I sighed. "Next time you decide to spy on a Telvanni wizard, could you please try not to get caught? You wouldn't believe what I've had to go through to get you out of here."

"I can't imagine," she murmured, staring at my soaking-wet clothes and hair. I think she was picturing Divayth Fyr dunking me in a pond for his own amusemant. I wouldn't have put it past him, frankly.

As we left the tower together, I told Delyna about her father's descent into madness. She looked grave. "I heard my father went mad with grief when I was captured, but I did not know how bad things were. I will see him as soon as I can."

"Do you want me to take you back to Sadrith Mora?"

She shook her head. "I have duties that cannot be ignored. I will visit my father when I can. In the meantime, please take this locket to him." She handed me a small engraved amulet from her pocket. "Thank you for rescuing me."

I cast a Divine Intervention spell to get back to Wolverine Hall, leaving Delyna to finish off whatever business she had at Tel Fyr. I hoped to goodness she wouldn't manage to get herself captured again. If she did, I thought, she'd better not expect me to get her out of there a second time.

I was far too tired to go looking for Arethan Mandas after all that, so I spent the rest of the day in Ald'ruhn before returning to Buckmoth for the night. The next day I set off again down that all-too-familiar route towards the west coast. According to my map, the cavern of Milk was just a little north-east of Drulene Falen's hut.

Outside the cave entrance, I wondered what would be best: to walk straight in and try to talk Arethan's guards into letting me see him, or sneak past them and hope that I'd find him alone. The first option was definitely more dangerous ? for all I knew, the guards might attack me on sight. Athyn hadn't forbidden me to kill them, but I didn't want to do that unless I absolutely had to, even if they had been attacking travellers. I finally decided to rely on my Chameleon amulet.

No one spotted me as I ran through the caverns in search of Lord Mandas. Luckily it didn't take me too long to find him, and he was alone. He was wearing a heavy suit of armour, and looked like he'd once been a powerful warrior, but I noticed that his face looked almost as worn and wrinkled as his father's. I guess that's what a complete nervous breakdown followed by months of living in a cave will do to you.

Mandas was pacing up and down in an agitated way, muttering to himself in Dunmeris. His speech was so confused that I could only make out a few words like 'daughter' and 'tower'. I hid myself in an alcove until the spell wore off, and then stepped out to meet him.

"Lord Mandas?" I said softly, not wanting to alarm him. I didn't know whether he might turn violent. "My name is Ada. Your daughter Delyna sent me here to visit you."

Mandas slowly turned around to face me. His movements were hesitant, but there was a wild look in his eyes. "Daughter, my daughter, mine," he said, looking directly at me. "Delyna Mandas. Saint Delyn, a man thus ain't. Lock it, her locket. Keep it locked up. In her pocket. Who owns that locket?"

Sweet Mara. Athyn hadn't been kidding when he told me that his friend had gone completely mad. "She's all right, Lord Mandas," I said, trying to sound calm and soothing. "I've seen her. She's still alive."

"Oh, my daughter," he moaned. "My daughter, would you not listen? Delyna, daughter, so bold. So stupid. Bold and stupid spy?"

I kind of had to agree with him on that, but this wasn't really the time to say so. "She's fine," I stated clearly, taking a step towards him. "Your daughter is safe. Look, she gave me her locket to show to you." I took the locket from the pouch on my belt and held it out to him.

Arethan stared at my outstretched hands, his eyes fixed on the locket. "My daughter," he whispered. "Where is she? Her locket... is it? Is she? No! Must know! Can't bear to know!" His voice was starting to shake.

"She's safe," I repeated, looking straight into his eyes. "I rescued her from the tower. She asked me to bring her locket to you to show you that she's safe."

"Safe?" Arethan took a hesitant step towards me, and carefully lifted the amulet out of my hands. He cradled it in the palm of his hand for several seconds, staring at it.

"She's... safe," he said at last. "So safe. I must be there for her. I must?"

He looked up at me, and for the first time, the frenzied look was gone from his eyes. "Thank you, Ada. I will stop now." He shook his head. "The attacks on the road. I knew it was wrong? but what could I do? My guards are loyal. Always looking out for me."

He pottered off, presumably to tell the guards that they shouldn't attack anyone else from now on. I hoped that extended to me as well. When he returned he was still clutching Delyna's locket in his hand.

"Yes, my daughter is safe," he said, nodding vigorously. "I can think in better categories now. Tell Athyn I will order no more attacks on the road out front my house."

"I'll tell him," I promised.

"He should visit me." Arethan glanced around the dark, dingy cave, and smiled. "The weather is very nice in here. Neither ash nor rain."

I felt a painful lump in my throat, and had to blink back tears from my own eyes. Poor, poor guy. I hoped his daughter would soon be back to take care of him.

Arethan's guards regarded me a little suspiciously as I walked back through the cave. None of them said or did anything, but I was still pretty happy to get out of there. As soon as I was back outside, I cast Almsivi Intervention to get back to Ald'ruhn.

Back in Sarethi Manor, I told Athyn the story behind Arethan's madness, and how I'd managed to cure him of it (well, sort of). He listened to the entire story without saying a word, until I reached the end.

"From what you say, perhaps Arethan has not totally regained his senses, but his guards have stopped demanding tribute from travellers," he said at last. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "I did not believe it could be done. I am proud of you this day, Ada."

I felt my face grew hot, and for a few moments I could hardly speak. "It is not usual for a new recruit to be promoted through the ranks so quickly," he continued, "but I believe you have truly earned the title of House Brother. Congratulations, my friend."

House Brother? Don't get me wrong, I was immensely grateful ? moved, even ? but also a little confused. Shouldn't that be 'House Sister'? Well, under the circumstances, it seemed a bit petty to complain.

Before I left the manor, Athyn asked me to come to dinner that night with him and his family. A few weeks ago I'd have been happy about this because it showed I was gaining influence with him ? influence which might help me get back to Cyrodiil. Now it made me happy for very different reasons. After a year in jail and two months of exile in a foreign land, where I literally didn't know anyone at all, even something as simple as an invitation to dinner felt strangely heartwarming.

The only thing left to do now was to go to Llerar Mandas and tell him that his granddaughter and son were safe. The look of joy and relief in his eyes made all the trouble and inconvenience seem almost worth it, even that nightmarish scavenger-hunt through Divayth Fyr's Corprusarium. After thanking me, he disappeared into a back room and returned carrying a closed ebony helm.

"Please take this helm from all the Mandas family," he said, grasping my hand firmly. "Know that you have earned an ally in House Redoran."

An ally on the Grand Council, eh? Well, that could be useful. As for the helm, I usually avoided ebony armour because of its sheer weight, but it certainly did offer excellent protection. Perhaps, if I ever managed to sell Sheogorath's ring, I could use some of the cash to put a Feather enchantment on it.

Back in Ald'ruhn, I hired a room at the Ald Skar inn and spent the evening preparing for the dinner party. I wore my new clothes in honour of the occasion and spent a longer-than-usual time getting ready, carefully styling my hair and applying make-up. It wasn't often I got to do this, after all.

Varvur looked mildly stunned when I showed up at Sarethi Manor in the elegant robes I'd bought in Vivec. "Ada!" he stammered. "You look very? nice."

"So do you," I replied, feeling myself blush. It was true, actually. Redoran fashions for men were rather plainer and simpler than the Western styles, but in Varvur's case, it suited him.

Dinner was a cosy family affair, much nicer than my usual meals of bland food in grotty taverns and mess halls. Athyn and his wife pvssyd to me and asked me questions about my background, which I tried to answer without giving too much away. Varvur didn't say very much, though I did catch him looking at me closely a couple of times.

The food was pretty good as well. "This is excellent," I said to Athyn, as I munched my way through a slice of meat pie. "What is it?"

He smiled. "It's a traditional Redoran recipe. Quite famous, in fact."

"Really?" I hadn't realised the Redorans were known for their cooking as well as their combat skills. "So what's in it?"

"Hound and rat meat, mixed with kwama egg and scuttle."

I nearly choked on a mouthful of pie. "Rat meat?"

"Yes. Have you never eaten rat before?" I shook my head, fighting a sudden urge to throw up. "The taste is not so good, but it is nutritious, and quite filling."

"I? suppose so." My appetite seemed to have disappeared all of a sudden. Varvur buried his face into a napkin, seemingly overcome by a heavy fit of coughing. I strongly suspected that he was trying not to laugh.

Somehow I forced myself to finish up the rest of my plate, and the next course (this time I had the sense not to ask what was in it). I washed it all down with several glasses of the local comberry wine, which was also excellent. In fact, it was so good that I ended up drinking a little too much.

"You know what I really miss about Cyrodiil?" I announced, as the servants were clearing our plates away. "Strawberries."

"Strawberries?"

"Mmm, strawberries. They're these little red berries, about this big." I made a circle with my thumb and forefinger. "They're expensive, of course, but they taste like the food of the Gods. I wonder if? no, you probably couldn't import them. They'd go rotten."

Varvur spoke up for almost the first time that evening. "What is it like, your homeland?"

"Cyrodiil? It's beautiful," I said dreamily. "Forests everywhere. There's probably more trees in the Great Forest than in the whole of Vvardenfell. I miss trees." I felt a dull ache in my throat.

"Up in the north there are mountains," I went on, "and it snows almost all year round. And out west, on the Gold Coast, you can walk through these endless fields with miles and miles of? golden?" My voice trailed off as hot tears began to roll down my cheeks.

The Sarethis exchanged worried glances. Domesea was looking at me with a mixture of sympathy and bemusemant. "If you love it so much, sera, why don't you return there?"

"Because I can't," I wailed. Now that I'd started crying, I couldn't seem to stop. "I'm sorry. I? I think I'd better be going."

Athyn immediately invited me to stay the night in one of the guest rooms, but I didn't want to trespass on his hospitality any longer. Besides, I'd already paid for a room at the inn. Varvur came over all gentlemanly and offered to walk me back there, but I refused ? the last thing I wanted right now was people fussing over me. I mumbled my thanks for the lovely meal and hurried back to the Ald Skar, where I cried myself to sleep.

--------

A/N: Thanks to Forest Stalker/Lady MorningStar for the loan of her character Aeronwen (just a little cameo there...) The next chapter will probably be the last posted in this thread, as it's getting near post limit, and with that chapter I will have (hopefully) reached a natural break point in the story. After that I'll make a new thread and link to it from here.

Brilliantly told, as ever. Less humor this time and more melancholy- but this part of the House Redoran story IS rather melancholy- or at least so I always thought. There is so much of family, which the Nerevarine does not have (uncertain parents, etc.).

And those "Helena" touches I have come to treasure- "...of all the wizard towers" and the Redoran cookbook- with 77 ways to prepare rat, no doubt....

I can't say it any better than Treydog did, Helena, Awesome!

Thank you Helena!

This is so much fun to read.

"Mmm, strawberries. They're these little red berries, about this big." I made a circle with my thumb and forefinger. "They're expensive, of course, but they taste like the food of the Gods. I wonder if? no, you probably couldn't import them. They'd go rotten."
Priceless! :liplick:

I nearly choked on a mouthful of pie. "Rat meat?"
Not so much. :yuck:

Big things, tiny details - you make them all fascinating.

Chapter 25: OK, So Maybe I Really Am The Nerevarine

It wasn't until I woke up the morning after my meal chez Sarethi ? with a splitting headache, naturally ? that I remembered I wasn't supposed to be sleeping in town, for fear of night-time zombie attacks. ("See, Aunt Sybilla, I told you the monsters would come and get me?") Nothing had happened that night, though. I wondered if there was some reason for this, or if I'd just been lucky.

I had to gulp down a Cure Poison potion ? one of the ones I was supposed to be saving for my missions in the wilderness ? before I could even think about facing the world again. Memories of last night were resurfacing, and I had a horrible vision of drinking too much and getting all mawkish over Cyrodiil before fleeing the house in tears. Way to impress your Redoran sponsor there, Ada.

When I went up to tavern for breakfast, I was surprised to see Varvur sitting at the bar. He got to his feet as soon as he saw me. "I came here to see you, Ada. Are you all right? I was worried about you."

"I'm fine, thanks," I told him, surprised and rather touched. "Just a little hung over, that's all. Why would you be worried?"

"Last night you seemed a little? upset," he said carefully. "I thought perhaps you were missing more things than forests and? strawberries."

I shrugged, trying to make light of it. "Yeah, I was feeling a bit homesick. And drunk, of course. I hope your parents weren't offended?"

Varvur shook his head. "I think they understand? or at least my father does. He has often told me how homesick he was when he first arrived in Hammerfell."

We ordered some breakfast, and took it to a table in the corner to eat. I wasn't really all that hungry, and my stomach lurched whenever I thought of last night's Rat Surprise, but I did feel a little better once I had some food inside me. A large mug of Hackle-lo tea helped as well.

"Ada, may I ask you a question?" said Varvur, as we were eating. "You said that you could not go back to Cyrodiil, even if you wanted to. Why is that?"

I hesitated. Of course, I'd already told my story to the innkeeper in Seyda Neen on the first day I arrived, but confessing my past crimes to a stranger whom I'd never see again was different from revealing them to a friend and fellow Redoran. And that was without even mentioning all the palaver with the Blades and the Nerevarine prophecies.

"Do you remember when we were walking to Shurinbaal?" I said at last. "And I told you that I had a friend who'd killed someone and been jailed for murder? Well?"

"Ah." He nodded. "This was you, yes? I thought that might be? but I could not imagine you murdering anyone, even if you were drunk. How did it happen?"

I told him the whole story, as briefly and straightforwardly as possible. "I'm not asking for sympathy, by the way," I said, when I reached the end. "The guy was an arsehole, but he didn't deserve to die. I just wish I'd been jailed for the right reasons, that's all."

Varvur nodded slowly, thinking over what I had said. "You should have challenged him to a duel. Or your father or brother ? "

"Don't have either," I said shortly. "I've never met my real family. I don't even know who they are."

"Really? You are an orphan, then?"

"Yup." I explained how I'd been found and adopted as a baby, and my own pet theory as to who my real parents had been. It went something like this: High-born Imperial lady has affair with totally unsuitable Nord commoner. High-born lady's parents find out and put a stop to it, but not before she becomes pregnant with unwanted bastard child. Parents abandon poor, innocent baby outside a Temple, where nice kind priests find her and? well, you know the rest.

Varvur listened to the whole thing, shaking his head. "It is so sad," he said, when I'd finished.

"Why?" I asked in surprise. "I was happy enough with my adoptive parents. You can't miss what you've never had, right?"

"But your family, your ancestors?"

"Hey, if my parents didn't want me, I'm guessing my ancestors probably don't either." I drained my mug of tea. "Anyway, it's probably time I got going."

We finished our meal and left the tavern together. "My father told me you would be going away on business," Varvur said, when we were outside. "How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe just a few days, maybe longer."

"Well, in that case?" Suddenly he looked a little shy again. "Before you go, I would just like to thank you for everything you've done for me. Not just for rescuing me, but for helping me to prove that I have strength and courage." He took a deep breath. "When I returned from Andasreth, my father told me that I had made him proud. I cannot remember the last time he said this to me."

Once again I felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. It couldn't be easy, having to live up to a father whom everyone called 'the Hope of the Redoran'. "There's no need to thank me, Varvur," I told him. "You've always had those things; you just needed a chance to show it."

"And you gave me one." He took a hesitant step forwards, and for a moment I thought he was about to hug me, but he settled for taking my hand in both of his and squeezing it tightly. "Thank you," he said again, with a gentle smile, before turning and walking off towards Skar.

I have to admit, that melted my heart into a puddle. Varvur was the sweetest guy I'd ever met, bar none.

It was on that morning that I first began to suspect I was being followed. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I kept thinking I saw someone, just out of the corner of my eye, who quickly moved away when I turned to look at them directly. It could be that this was the first time it happened, or that it had been happening for a while and I simply hadn't noticed before. I didn't know who it could be, either ? the Sixth House, or maybe even the Temple? I wasn't sure which prospect was worse.

At least they couldn't follow me to the Urshilaku camp, I thought grimly. I decided to return there straight away, even though it wasn't quite a week since I'd left. I could always spend some time in Gnisis if Nibani needed more time to read the tea leaves, or stare into her crystal ball, or whatever.

I walked into the enclosed courtyard of the Temple, where I could easily see anyone who tried to follow me in, and cast the Recall spell? and cast it again? and again? until at last it actually worked. My skill in Mysticism was very gradually improving, due to all the Intervention spells I'd been casting recently, but progress was painfully slow. What I really needed was a few heavy-duty sessions with one of the Mages' Guild trainers, but I couldn't afford it.

The Ashlanders looked only mildly surprised when I suddenly appeared in the middle of the camp. From the amused, dismissive looks on their faces, it seemed that they'd come to see me as eccentric, but harmless. Not exactly flattering, but I guess it was a step up from 'looting, pillaging Imperial ravager'.

"I am ready to give you my judgement," Nibani told me, as soon as I entered the yurt.

"Okay?" Suddenly I felt unaccountably nervous.

"The ancestors and stars have given me clear signs," she said. "The lost prophecies leave no doubt ? the Incarnate shall be an outlander. You, blessed by Azura, must lift the seven curses of Dagoth Ur."

I breathed in deeply. "So? it's true, then? I am the Nerevarine?"

She didn't directly answer the question. "Prophecy has shown the seven steps of the Nerevarine's path, and I have been chosen as your guide for each step on that path. I will read the signs, and show you the way. It is time for you to walk the path of the Seven Visions, and pass the Seven Trials of the Seven Visions."

Oh, boy. I'd almost forgotten about those. I began to search my pack for a copy of the Seven Visions as Nibani continued speaking.

"You are born on a certain day to uncertain parents," she said, "so you have passed the first trial. My dreams show me that you also fulfil the second trial. That you have overcome the Curse-of-Flesh is strange enough, but that it should protect you from blight and age is past belief ? yet the signs of my dreams are clear. But the third trial is unfulfilled."

I dug the crumpled piece of paper out of my pack and smoothed it out on the table. "'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees,'" I read out loud, "'and makes to shine the moon and star.' What's that supposed to mean?"

"In legend there is a shrine to Azura called the Cavern of the Incarnate. There are secrets I may not tell you about this cavern, so do not ask." Gee, thanks a lot. "As for the moon and star, legend says that Nerevar's family standard bore this symbol, as I told you before. I think this is the mark of the Nerevarine, but you do not have this mark ? so you are not the Nerevarine."

"Okay? sorry," I said, pressing a hand to my forehead. "I'm probably just being a bit thick here, but I don't quite understand. You're saying I'm not the Nerevarine?"

"As I said, you do not have the moon-and-star mark. So you are not the Nerevarine."

"But you want me to take these Seven Trials in any case?"

She nodded. I svcked in breath. "So basically the answer is 'no, not yet, but maybe'?"

"Yes."

Oh, for crying out loud. Had I really gone to all that trouble bringing Nibani the Lost Prophecies, and waited a week for her to study them, only to hear exactly the same thing she'd told me to start with? All I wanted to know was whether I was the reincarnation of Lord Nerevar Indoril, Dunmer warlord and hero of the First Era. Godsdammit, was that such a difficult question?

"So how do I fulfil the third trial?" I asked, trying to hide my annoyance.

"The mystery of the third trial is not my secret to share. Go to Sul-Matuul, the guardian of our cult, and he shall tell you of it. When you have fulfilled the trial, return to me for guidance on your next steps on the path of the Nerevarine."

Some 'wise woman', I thought, as I made my way to Ashkhan Sul-Matuul's yurt. It was pretty obvious that she didn't really have a clue whether I was the Nerevarine or not. All that talk about ancestors and stars was a load of crap ? she was probably just hedging her bets in case I really did turn out to be The One.

When I spoke to Sul-Matuul, it seemed that he was still a tiny bit skeptical about me being the Nerevarine ? not that I could entirely blame him. "This is a hard thing to believe," he said. "But Nibani Maesa has spoken to me at length of this, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test."

I might not have Nibani's gift of foresight, but I had a sudden prophetic vision that I was going to face a lot of these 'tests' in the near future. "What kind of test?" I asked, my heart sinking.

"I do not dispute with the wise women," he said, "but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but all have failed the warrior's test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test."

"And what is the warrior's test?"

"Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the blight have come to dwell there." His expression darkened. "I myself went there with some brave hunters, but it was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid for myself and my men. If you would have the secret of the Third Trial, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn: corprus weepings from a corprus beast, a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, and the Shadow Shield."

"Hang on, corprus weepings? You mean you want the? from their?" Dear Gods, that was probably the most disgusting thing I'd ever heard.

Sul-Matuul nodded. "This will show that you are proof against the disease's corruption. I have myself seen the cups there, and the Shadow Shield lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the Third Trial."

And so, yet again, I found myself wandering out into the Ashlands in search of a bunch of random items while Mr. Ashkhan sat around in his cosy tent. Seeing on my map that the stronghold of Koguruhn wasn't all that far from the camp, I decided to walk there, hoping I could reach the place before nightfall. Unfortunately I'd reckoned without something fairly important: ashstorms.

I must have been about half-way to Kogoruhn when I noticed that the wind was picking up. Only minutes later there were clouds of dust swirling around, the sky had turned an ugly red colour, and I realised with mild panic that a Blight storm was imminent. And this time I didn't have a closed helmet to protect myself from it. What was I going to do?

Telling myself not to panic, I headed for the only shelter in sight: a bunch of tall rocks standing close together. I pulled one of my spare shirts from my pack and wound it tightly around my face so that it covered my eyes, nose and mouth. I could still breathe through the fabric, though not very comfortably. Then I sat down, curled myself into a tight ball, and prepared to wait out the storm.

The candidates for 'worst day/night of my life' had been piling up since I arrived in Morrowind, but this one had to be pretty high on the list. For the next few hours, which felt like a week, I sat shivering in the biting wind while ash seeped into every last crevice of my armour, clothing and body. Almost as bad was the knowledge that yet again, I'd nearly got myself into serious trouble by ignoring the dangers of blight storms. You are hard-headed, and ignorant?

By the time the storm died down, it was already too dark to go any further. I huddled up in a ball and went to sleep, knowing my limbs would be frozen and stiff the next morning.

As soon as it got light and I could move again, I gobbled down some food and potions and carried on towards Kogoruhn, eventually reaching it a couple of hours later. From the outside it looked very much like Andasreth, the stronghold I'd visited with Varvur: huge, austere and forbidding. I was about to discover that the inside was a thousand times worse.

Luckily I had the sense to cast a Chameleon enchantment before entering the first of the small, domed buildings on Kogoruhn's base. If I hadn't, I'd have immediately attracted the attention of the hideous? thing? that stood inside, half-turned towards me. It was about seven feet tall, entirely shrouded in a cloak apart from its head and spindly hands, with a 'face' that consisted entirely of several long, greyish-green tentacles. As soon as I'd finished hyperventilating with terror, I very carefully backed out through the door and closed it behind me.

The second small building housed another ash creature looking exactly like Dagoth Gares, the Sixth House servant in Ilunibi. I could probably have taken him on, but as it happened, I didn't need to. Lying on a table in plain sight was just what I needed: a jewelled goblet with the mark of House Dagoth on it. I literally just picked it up and slipped it into my pack without being noticed.

As I was leaving the room, I spotted some Daedric words written on the floor in bright-red chalk. When I paused to read the words, I realised that they said 'The Dreamer is awake', and a sudden chill ran down my spine.

The first level of Kogoruhn's main building looked pretty much like the inside of Andasreth, only with a bunch of eerie symbols scrawled on the walls and floor. There weren't even a lot of enemies around ? only a handful of ash creatures and corprus beasts. I managed to pick up some of the weepings from the fleshy sores on their bodies, wrapping them carefully in a piece of cloth without letting any get on my hands. Corprus resistance or not, there was no way I was actually touching that stuff.

As I went lower, however, things began to get scarier. In a large chamber on the next level I found another of those ghoul-creatures resembling Dagoth Gares. He didn't speak, just attacked me, but afterwards I found a scrawled note pinned to a table with a dagger:

ALL CRIES ARE WAKING!
Whitest White of all White!
Blackest Blacks of all Blacks!
Shame and Son, Sun, and Shadow!

Stronger than gods, brighter than mortals!
Only He is Awake!
Only He is Alive!

It rambled on like this for about six verses before finishing:

I see you with MY EYE!
And all is SILENCE!
I Wake! I Remember!
LORD!

Clearly the authors of the Nerevarine Prophecies didn't have a monopoly on bad poetry. But it frightened me to think what sort of broken mind could dream up this stuff.

Another level down and things were getting seriously creepy. The stone halls here were bathed in eerie red light, and decorated with more of those huge ash statues, which filled my head with maddening whispers whenever I came near them. Behind several locked doors in one section I found the dead bodies of other adventurers, some of them carrying expensive armour and weaponry. Since none of them held anything like the 'Shadow Shield' I was supposed to be looking for, I left them in peace.

But nothing prepared me for coming face to face with another of those tentacled creatures deep in a vault. It spotted me as soon as I walked into the room, and so I had no time to cast a Chameleon enchantment ? or any others for that matter. As I froze in fear, the creature let out a rumble of deep, breathy laughter.

"Welcome to Kogoruhn, 'Nerevar'!" it ? or he ? said in a mocking tone. "I am Dagoth Ulen, an Ascended Sleeper, and servant of Dagoth Ur."

I leapt backwards as if I'd been scorched by a firebolt. The creature bent towards me a little, and I noticed several small holes in his head that presumably functioned as eyes. Another deep laugh emerged from somewhere in his bloated body.

"Look! It's Azura's Fool!" he taunted me. "Look at you. Not a real thing at all ? just a pathetic puppet of prophecy. And you think you can trust the Daedra Lords?"

"Azura's Fool? What are you talking about?"

Dagoth Tentacles shook his head. "Ah, she's svcked you in with her pretty prophecies. Promised you power, did she? Promised you justice, did she?"

"Um, no and no," I said, now genuinely confused. "What 'pretty prophecies'? All she did when I met her was ask me to fight a bunch of Daedra."

He laughed. "Mortals are but simple sport to the Daedra Lords. They pull the strings, and you poor fools leap and dance. Why do you serve them? Why do you fall for their honeyed lies?"

"What honeyed lies? Nobody's told me any honeyed lies! The only thing Azura promised me was a soulgem I didn't even want in any case!"

"Come on!" he mocked, completely ignoring what I'd just said. "You're the prophesied Incarnate!" Azura has promised you fame and glory ? "

"No she HASN'T!"

"? so surely you can't be afraid of me, can you? Don't be shy. With a Daedra Lord for ally and patron, how could you lose? Oh, please don't hurt me, star-blessed hero!"

Before he could even finish his last sentence, I stuck my blade right between his eyes. (Well, it worked for Dagoth Gares.) Unfortunately this guy put up a bit more of a fight. As I pulled the blade out of his forehead, he shrugged off the blow as if it were a minor scratch and viciously headbutted me, sending me staggering backwards. A moment later I felt a stinging cloud of poison magicka envelop me, wracking my whole body with agonising pain.

There was no time to take any kind of evasive action. My shield and armour wouldn't defend me against magicka, so all I could do was stab at him again and again while he countered by blasting me with spells. I could feel myself growing weaker with every blow as the poison did its work. The pain was so intense that I could hardly see.

Finally another staggering blow from Ulen's head knocked me to the ground. This is it, I thought ? I'm dead. I took one last desperate swipe at his ankles, trying to cut his feet off, and to my astonishment he just vanished ? literally crumbled into dust, leaving nothing behind but a skull.

I lay on the floor, gasping, almost too weak to move. I was shaking like a leaf, so much that I could hardly even hold the health potion I managed to tip out of my pack. It helped, but it didn't cure the poison, and I was in no state to root around in my bag for a cure potion right now ? if I even had one left after wasting so many on hangovers. I had to keep drinking vial after vial of restoration potions until the poison effect wore off.

That was a bizarre encounter, I thought, as I stumbled out of the room. Bizarre and painful. What the heck was all that about false promises and 'honeyed lies'? Talos, I only wished people would seduce me with promises of fame and glory rather than "Okay svcker, go and bring me nineteen ash statues from the Foul Zombie-Infested Caverns of Filthiness, and I'll read you some more of our terrible poetry."

If Azura really was behind the Nerevarine prophecies ? which was what Ulen seemed to be saying ? why on Nirn hadn't she told me about it when I visited her shrine? I mean, the whole 'being the reincarnation of Nerevar' thing did seem fairly important. You'd think she'd at least have mentioned it.

The next level down was some kind of sewer or storm drain, filled with canols. There were no Dagoths there, just a few atronachs. To be honest, this was almost a relief after what I'd just been through. If I'd been hoping things would get better from here on, though, I was to be disappointed.

Below the sewers was an underground cave filled with steaming lava pits. The heat was almost unbearable, and what was more, the place was crawling with Daedra and Sixth House creatures. I'd thought the 'Ascended Sleepers' were bad enough, but I got the shock of my life when I stumbled across one that looked ? I swear to all the Divines ? exactly like Dagoth Ur from my dreams. He was grey-skinned, wearing nothing but a loincloth over his strangely shrivelled-looking body, and had claw-like hands with long, pointed fingernails; all that was missing was the golden mask.

For a moment we just stared at each other, sizing each other up. "Are you Dagoth Ur?" I asked at last, knowing that if the answer was 'yes', my luck had just run out permanently.

He smiled. "No, I am Dagoth Uthol."

"Oh good gods, there's more than one of you?"

"I am the brother of Dagoth Ur." He shrugged. "He said you would come to us, and he was right. Have you come to submit? Or come to die?"

I hesitated, seeing a tiny chance of possibly getting out of here alive. "If I wanted to submit, how would I do it?"

"Keep going," he said. "These passages lead under the Ghostfence and into the crater of Red Mountain. Then enter the Mount of Dagoth Ur, and find Lord Dagoth. Make your submission, and perhaps you may join us? if you survive such a journey."

"And what would I gain, if I 'made my submission'?"

"Lord Dagoth says you will join us or die," he said bluntly. "I thought you might just leave us alone, and go about your own affairs ? but Lord Dagoth says it is not your way, to leave a thing well enough alone. I do my Lord's bidding, so go to him and submit. You will be given power and place ? and, perhaps, peace and forgiveness."

"Okay, I'll think about it," I said. "Anything else?" He shook his head. "Right. I'll? just be going then."

I turned and walked away, fully expecting to get clobbered at any moment, but nothing happened. Had I really just talked a Sixth House demi-god into letting me wander freely through his lair? For an ancient immortal being of incredible power, this guy was remarkably stupid.

I finally found the Shadow Shield, the last item on Sul-Matuul's shopping list, after defeating another ash ghoul creature. In terms of appearance it was a bit disappointing ? just another piece of Dwemer junk, from what I could see ? but it looked strong and did have some pretty good enchantments. As soon as I'd picked it up I cast a Recall spell, not wanting to give Dagoth Uthol a chance to change his mind.

When I landed in the Urshilaku camp I was shocked to realise that it was already dark. I'd spent the entire day in Kogoruhn. I couldn't face hearing about the Third Trial that night, so I went to the trader Kurapli ? the closest thing I had to a friend in the camp ? and stayed the night in her yurt. She was gracious enough not to mention the fact that I was covered in ash and stank to high heaven.

The next morning, after washing myself as best I could, I went to Sul-Matuul and handed him the three tokens of my visit to Kogoruhn. In fairness I must say that he looked genuinely impressed. He even told me I could keep all of them, though the only one I could possibly have any use for was the Shadow Shield.

"You have passed the Warrior's Test," he said, "and I will give you the secret of the Third Trial. You must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the moon and star."

"But what is the moon and star?"

"The legend of Moon-and-Star is known to all loremasters," he said. Except his own wise woman, apparently, but what the hell. "The enchanted ring called Moon-and-Star was forged for Nerevar by one of the Dwemer Sorcerer-Priest Kagrenac's smiths, and blessed by the Daedra Lord Azura. The ring gave Nerevar supernatural powers of persuasion, and any other who tried to wear the ring would be killed instantly. No man but Nerevar may wear that ring and live."

Ah, so it was a ring! And Azura really was mixed up in this somehow, was she? I guess I might have known.

"So you want me to find it, I take it?" I asked. "To prove that I really am the Nerevarine?"

Sul-Matuul nodded. "The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle:

The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind
The mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl
The dream is the door and the star is the key."

Crap, more riddles. I hated riddles.

Sul-Matuul wouldn't translate the riddle for me directly, of course ? that would have been far too easy. Instead he told me to 'take counsel of the wisdom of the tribes', whatever that meant. He also gave me an enchanted belt which symbolised the blessing of the tribe.

After talking to Nibani, and various other people around the camp, I managed to piece together the riddle. It seemed to refer to a rock called 'the Needle' in a valley called the Valley of the Wind, east of Red Mountain. Below this rock was the entrance to the Cavern of the Incarnate, which opened only at dusk and dawn ? the time when Azura's Star appeared in the sky.

It might have been possible to walk to the valley from the Urshilaku camp, but there was no way I was going to do that. Instead I teleported back to Gnisis and spent the day happily soaking in a bath, before travelling back to Ald'ruhn by silt strider. I stored away the Shadow Shield, then bought several Rising Force potions from an alchemist and went to Vivec to use the Stop the Moon shrine (bring careful to avoid the priestess this time). Then I teleported to Sadrith Mora, the city nearest the valley, and flew north-west from there.

When I reached the Valley of the Wind, I could certainly see how it got its name. The wind whistling through it was relentless and almost unbearably loud. When I saw a small group of Ashlander tents below, I couldn't understand how they could live in this place without going mad. I heard them yell at me as I flew overhead, and stuck my tongue out at them.

Unfortunately, by the time I finally managed to find the cavern entrance ? an ancient-looking door, carved with moon and star symbols ? it was past dusk. All I got was a voice saying that the door would not open and "the star is the key".

Sighing, I settled down to wait out the night, and at dawn the next day I finally managed to enter the cavern. It was large and roughly circular, lit by the glow of luminous mushrooms, and filled with enormous stalagmites and stalactites. In the centre was a huge stone bust of Azura, her head slightly bent, as if she were looking down at something in her cupped hands. I shivered as I noticed several mummified bodies seated on the floor around her ? was this what had become of other adventurers who'd stumbled upon the cavern?

As I walked closer, I saw a glint of metal in her outstretched hands. When I stood in front of the statue I could see what it was: a tiny ring, exquisitely carved and glowing faintly, with a small symbol of a silver moon and yellow star. So, at least one aspect of the prophecies was true: there really was a Moon-and-Star ring.

Suddenly I was scared. Really scared. If there was nothing in the prophecy, or if I really was Nerevar reborn ? and I still couldn't quite believe that ? I'd nothing to fear either way. But if the legend was true, and I wasn't the Incarnate, then I'd be killed ? instantly. And, well? everything I'd been told so far had turned out to be true?

Well, here goes nothing, I thought. Taking a deep breath, I removed my gauntlet, scooped up the ring and slipped it onto my finger.

There was a blinding flash of light. For a moment I thought I must be dead ? and then, I heard a voice.

"Nerevar Reborn, Incarnate!"

I cringed backwards, shielding my eyes. Azura's voice, clear and powerful, echoed round the cavern. "Your first three trials are finished; now, two new trials lie before you. Seek the Ashlander Ashkhans, and the Great House Councils. Four tribes must name you Nerevarine; three Houses must name you Hortator."

As she spoke, visions swirled before my eyes: towns, cities, Ashlander camps, and a brief glimpse of a golden-skinned figure inside a temple. I stood, transfixed.

"My servant Nibani Maesa shall be your guide. And when you are Hortator and Nerevarine, when you've stood before the False God and freed the heart from its prison, heal my people and restore Morrowind. Do this for me, and with my blessing."

The vision faded, and the echoes died away. I clasped my hands together, staring at the Moon-and-Star ring on my finger, and slowly sank to the ground.

"Well," I said shakily. "I guess I really am the Nerevarine."

:goodjob: I thought about quoting funny parts... then I figured it'd take too much time
I wub Morrowind's cutscenes.

You are as brilliant as ever. That wonderful, dry "Helena" humor is again on display, even in the creepy depths of Kogoruhn- "Dagoth Tentacles." Oh, my aching sides.

And then there is the tenderness and the understated emotion of the scene with Varvur...

I cannot begin to express how much joy this story has brought me....