Hello everyone,

My name is Helena, and I've recently become a fan of Morrowind. After playing it through to completion, I was inspired to write a fanfic based on the Nerevarine's story. Although I've written several other fanfics in the past, this is my first fic based in the Elder Scrolls universe, so I'd welcome any suggestions or comments.

This is the story of Ada Ventura, a young Imperial woman who got very drunk in a pub one night and ended up in jail... only to find herself being transported to Morrowind. I'm also posting it at fanfiction.net, http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4726721/1/The_Neveragaine, for easier access to all the chapters.

On with Chapter One...

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Chapter 1: I Don't Want To Go To Morrowind

It was a weird dream, I tell you that. I mean, I've had some strange dreams before, but this one was truly bizarre. Images flashed across my mind in a never-ending reel: fire, storms, a barren landscape, water droplets splashing into a pond... and scrolls covered in Daedric writing, which I don't even understand. I must have eaten some really bad food the night before.

A woman's voice was speaking. "They have taken you from the Imperial City's prison, first by carriage, and now by boat. To the East, to Morrowind."

"Morrowind?" I squeaked. "I don't want to go to Morrowind!"

"Fear not," she reassured me. "For I am watchful. You have been chosen."

"Chosen for what?" I asked plaintively. "And does it really have to be Morrowind? I mean, how about Valenwood? I always wanted to go to Valenwood."

I have no idea why I thought I could reason with the mysterious dream-lady, but I guess you don't tend to think all that rationally when you're dreaming. It didn't matter in any case, because at that very moment I was woken up by someone roughly shaking my shoulder.

"Wake up!" It was a hoarse, throaty voice, suggestive of a bad cold. "Wake up! We're here."

I opened my eyes to see a male figure, naked from the waist up, staring down at me. He had grey-green skin, red eyes, and huge, sharply-pointed ears ? each studded with several earrings ? not to mention a vicious-looking scar running down one side of his face. A Dunmer, I thought. Well, that explained the scratchy voice.

He looked concerned. "Why are you shaking? Are you okay?"

"I? guess," I said weakly, trying to sit up. The back of my head hurt; I must have banged it against a packing crate. "Er? bad dreams."

He nodded. "Yes, you were dreaming. What's your name?"

"Um? Ada. Ada Ventura." I was still half-asleep, my head full of sandstorms and creepy disembodied voices, but I vaguely remembered my companion telling one of the guards that his name was Jiub.

"Even last night's storm couldn't wake you." He leaned a little closer as I swung my legs off the makeshift bunk, rubbing my eyes. "I heard them say we've reached Morrowind. I'm sure they'll let us go."

My head jerked up. "Morrowind? I don't want to go to Morrowind!"

"I know," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You were saying."

It was all right for him, I thought resentfully. He was a Dark Elf; Morrowind was his home. For me, it was different.

It's not that I have a problem with Dark Elves in general. I'd got on fine with the more cosmopolitan Dunmer I'd met in Cyrodiil, but if there was one thing they'd all made clear to me, it was that Morrowind really didn't welcome foreign visitors. Or, as one particularly gloomy fellow summed it up: "We don't like outlanders." 'Outlanders' it transpired, meant anyone born and raised outside of Morrowind ? even other Dunmer. In fact, especially other Dunmer.

Why was I being sent to Morrowind, of all places? It wasn't Imperial policy to deport convicts to the provinces, as far as I knew. Maybe the jails were getting too full?

Footsteps creaked on the ramp leading to the middle deck, and Jiub hastily drew back. "Quiet! Here comes the guard."

I heard the jangle of keys as the guard, a fellow Imperial, strolled towards us. He gave me a curt nod as he approached, ignoring Jiub completely. "This is where you get off. Come with me."

I hauled myself to my feet and obediently followed, wishing my legs didn't ache so much. Several days cooped up a creaky old carriage, followed by the hold of a prison ship, had left me with a rather severe cramp. I couldn't wait to get out of here and stretch my legs properly for the first time in days.

They hadn't actually treated me that badly in the prison. I'd had adequate food and exercise, and I hadn't been beaten or ill-treated (though the third time I tried to escape, the long-suffering guard captain told me that if it ever happened again, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions). They'd even given me paper and a quill when I begged hard enough, probably hoping that it would keep me out of trouble. I'd used it to start a journal, which was pretty much the only thing that had kept me sane during my long stay in that tiny, windowless cell.

I clutched it against me as we entered the middle deck, praying that it wouldn't be taken away. Okay, so it contained absolutely nothing of interest (I'd been in prison, for crying out loud), but it was almost the only possession I had, apart from the ratty old clothes I stood up in and a few small trinkets. Luckily, the guard didn't even seem to notice.

Over by the next set of steps, he turned to me and fixed me with his best "you're a disgrace to my people" glare. I scowled back at him. "I'm innocent, you know."

"They all are," he said with a sigh. "Now, get yourself up on deck, and let's keep this as civil as possible."

I couldn't wait to get up on deck. I practically ran at the trapdoor, shoved it open, and drank in huge gulps of fresh, salty air, blinking in the early morning sunlight. Hauling myself up on to the deck, I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared to look on my new home of Morrowind for the first time ever.

I drew another deep, heady breath, and opened my eyes. And stared.

From the descriptions my Dunmer friends had given me, I had somehow envisioned Morrowind as an endless wasteland of rocks, lava valleys, and ash storms. But the landscape that stretched out before me was lush and green, with gentle waves lapping against a grassy shore. A village of quaint little huts surrounded the docks, and off in the distance I could see some kind of tower ? a lighthouse, probably ? surrounded by tall plane trees. It was, to my amazement, quite beautiful.

The soldier standing beside me, a Redguard, grinned at the look on my face. "This is where they want you. Head down to the dock and they'll show you to the Census Office." He sounded a lot more friendly than the other guards on the ship.

I stumbled down the gangplank to be met by another guard, this one in full Imperial uniform. "You finally arrived!" he exclaimed, as if he'd been waiting all his life for this moment. "But our records don't show from where."

I gathered my thoughts. "Er, Ada Ventura, of Imperial City. Temple District," I added, in case it was important. Though in actual fact, I'd barely set foot in the Temple District in several years.

"Great! I'm sure you'll fit right in." Wow, this guy was almost scarily friendly. "Follow me up to the office, and they'll finish your release."

I entered the census office, where I was met by an elderly-looking man who I presumed to be a clerk. "Ah yes," he said briskly, "we've been expecting you. You'll have to be officially recorded before you're released. Now, just a few formalities?" He took up a sheaf of papers from his desk. "Your class, please?"

"My? class?" I repeated, slightly confused. "You mean my trade? Well? I don't really have one as such." The truth was, I'd never really studied for a trade. I'd just travelled around, learning whatever I thought was useful.

He sighed, and shoved the papers into my hands. "Here. Fill in the forms yourself."

I sat down at the desk and began to note down everything I could think of that I was any good at. It was a bit of a mixed bag; while most of my skills were combat-related (blades, light and heavy armour, armour repair), I'd also learned to pick locks and disarm traps (useful in a tight spot) and to bargain for a good deal with merchants. Magic was a different matter; to be honest, I'd never really had much of a talent for it. The only discipline I'd studied in any detail was Restoration, and even then, all I could remember after five years was a single healing spell which I couldn't even cast properly half the time.

"Here," I said at last, handing him back the forms. I couldn't really think of a good name for my lack-of-profession, so in the end I'd just put 'mercenary', which was pretty much accurate.

"Very good. Now, the letter which preceded you mentioned that you were born under a certain sign? which would be?"

Was this really necessary? I suppressed a sigh. "The Lady. Twenty-first of Heartfire, 3E 404."

"Interesting," he murmured. "Now, just make sure this information is correct before I stamp the papers?"

I checked through the information, noting the date on the papers as I did so: 16th of Last Seed. I'd been in prison for over a year.

Once I'd finished, the clerk stamped the papers with the Imperial seal, and it seemed that I was good to go. "Show your papers to the Captain when you go to get your release fee," he said with a smile.

I walked out into a small hallway, which contained a bookcase and a table with a half-finished meal on it. My stomach rumbled at the sight of the bread and meat ? they'd only given us one meal a day on board the ship ? but I didn't want to take anything in case someone caught me. The last thing I needed was to be thrown back in jail for stealing on my first day of freedom.

The door at the end of the hallway led me out through an enclosed courtyard and into another office, where a man in a gleaming suit of Imperial Templar armour was sitting at a desk. This, I presumed, was the Captain I was supposed to report to.

"Er? Captain?" I said, holding out the papers. "I'm Ada, the prisoner who was just released. I was told to give these to you."

"Ah, yes. Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday." He looked slightly harassed. "Still, no matter. I'm Sellus Gravius, and I'm here to welcome you to Morrowind."

"Pleased to meet you." I wasn't sure what else to say.

"I don't know why you're here," he continued. "Or why you were released from prison and shipped here. But your authorization comes directly from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself."

I stared at him, wondering if I'd heard correctly. "What?"

"From the Emperor," he repeated.

"The? Emperor?"

"Yes, the Emperor. Uriel Septim is still Emperor." He gave me a rather strange look. "You do remember that, don't you?"

Well, naturally I did. Uriel Septim had been Emperor several decades longer than I'd been alive. "Of course I do," I snapped, then realised that it probably wasn't a good idea to piss off the guy in charge of my release. "But? why?"

"Damned if I know," he said bluntly. "But that's the way the Empire works. Silence. Secrecy. Let not the left hand know what the right hand is doing."

I nodded slowly, still unable to take in what I'd just heard. Why the heck would the Emperor be personally ordering my release? He didn't concern himself with people like me. Maybe there'd been a mistake, and the guy who was really supposed to be released had been dragged off to a salt mine somewhere.

"Anyway," Gravius continued, "this package came with news of your arrival." He handed me a small package. "You are to take it to Caius Cosades, in the town of Balmora. I also have a letter for you, and a disbursal to your name."

He handed over an official-looking document and an oilskin pouch containing a handful of gold coins ? just under a hundred septims' worth, in my estimation. Suddenly I felt a lot more kindly disposed towards him. I was still thoroughly confused, but I certainly wasn't about to turn down some desperately-needed cash.

"Right," I said, pulling myself together. "Just let me write this down? where can I find this Cosades guy, by the way?"

"Take the silt strider to Balmora, then go to the South Wall Cornerclub and ask for Caius Cosades. They'll know where to find him." He fixed me with a stern glare. "Serve him as you would serve the Emperor himself."

I nodded and scribbled down the instructions in my journal, wondering what exactly a 'silt strider' could be. "Okay, thanks. I'll do my best."

"Goodbye," he said with a faint smile, "and good luck."

I hesitated for a moment before the door leading out into the village, then pushed it open. Bright sunlight streamed into the room, and I felt a sudden giddy rush of joy. Freedom! OK, so I was alone, friendless and nearly penniless in a foreign country with nowhere to stay and no possessions, but still? freedom! Freeeeeedom!

I looked around me, still struggling to adjust to the bright light after all those months in a dingy cell. Rather to my surprise, the first person I saw was not a Dunmer but a Bosmer ? a Wood Elf, as we call them back West. Wood Elves aren't my favourite people in general, but right now I was so happy to be free that I could almost have hugged him. I settled for a nod and a cheery "Good morning!"

"Greetings, Cyrodiil!" he said, in that high, squeaky voice that grates on your nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. "Welcome to Sedya Neen! Are you the one the boat dropped off? Hope the Imperials treated you okay. I swear they took my ring."

"Your ring?" I said, confused.

"I swear one of the Guards has it. I had it last week before their weekly 'Let's shake down Fargoth' ritual." Fargoth, I gathered, was his name. "An engraved healing ring, family heirloom of mine. You haven't seen it, have you?"

"No," I said. His face fell. "But I could look for it if you like," I added, yielding to a generous impulse.

"Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed, brightening up. "Of course, you're an Imperial, they won't suspect you."

I wasn't quite so sure about that, but I turned around and headed back into the office I'd just left. The Captain, still writing at his desk, seemed more than a little surprised to see me back so soon. "Can I help you, citizen?" he asked, with a slight frown.

"Hi there," I said, trying to sound casual. "I seem to have dropped my, er? comb? somewhere in here. I don't suppose you've seen it, have you?"

He gave me another of those slightly bemused looks. "No, I haven't seen it."

"Okay, never mind. I'll just have a quick look for it, then," I said, and slipped through the other door before he could ask any more questions.

I returned to the census office where the clerk had taken my details, and had a quick hunt around for Fargoth's ring. No one interrupted me to ask what I was doing, but it made no difference, as the ring was nowhere to be found. I even checked the cellar downstairs, but all I found were a few barrels of provisions, none of which looked particularly appetising.

Heading back into the courtyard, I was on the point of giving up when I noticed an ordinary-looking barrel standing close to the door. On impulse, I lifted the lid and peered at the contents. It appeared to function as a refuse bin, and was full of rotten food and broken crockery, but I could see something glinting near the bottom.

I reached into the barrel and pulled out? an engraved ring, enchanted with a minor healing spell. Success!

Damn, and it was a nice ring, as well. I could have done with a ring like that, especially in my current situation. I have to admit, I was sorely tempted to keep it for myself and tell Fargoth that I couldn't find it.

I went back into the office, where the Captain was waiting. "Found it!" I said cheerfully, holding up my comb (which of course I'd had all along). "I'd just dropped it out there in the yard. Anyway, best be going."

Fargoth greeted me excitedly as I left the office. "Have you looked for my ring, outlander? Did you find it?"

I looked into his eager little face, and I just couldn't bring myself to lie to him. Besides, whatever else I might have done, I wasn't a thief. "Yes, I found it," I said, suppressing a sigh. "Here it is."

"Oh, thank you!" he gasped, and before I could react he had flung his arms around me. "Thank you, thank you! You are now my favourite friend!"

"Er, no problem," I said, a little overwhelmed by this display of gratitude. "I'm Ada, by the way."

"Ada," he repeated. "I'll remember that. I'll be sure to tell everyone, especially my friend Arrille who runs the tradehouse here. Go see him, he'll be happy to see you now!"

He scampered off, leaving me feeling slightly stunned. Oh well, if he put in a good word for me with the local trader, that couldn't hurt.

Right, I thought, time to get some food. And before I went anywhere at all, I needed a weapon and some proper armour. Caius Cosades and his packages could wait.

I took the opportunity to observe Sedya Neen more closely as I walked up to the tradehouse. It was a tiny settlement, more a hamlet than a village, set in what appeared to be the middle of a swamp. Apart from the census office, the tradehouse, and another warehouse of some kind, there didn't appear to be any buildings of interest.

The population was a mixed bag, which I suppose is unsurprising for a port settlement. Besides the Dunmer and Imperial guards, there were several other humans around the place, and I even spotted a High Elf woman emerging from one of the houses. Several Dark Elf citizens nodded to me as I passed, showing none of the hostility that the Morrowind Dunmer were supposedly famous for. "Good day to you, Cyrodiil."

I was a little surprised to be so quickly recognised as Imperial, as I don't really look like a typical Cyrodiil. Women of my race tend towards the short, dark and curvy, whereas I'm above average height, with a build that can only be described as 'wiry'. My skin is pale, with a tendency to burn when I stay out in the sun too long, and my hair a colour that I like to call 'bright copper' and everyone else describes as 'ginger'. Fellow Imperials often ask if I have Nord blood in me ? but I guess that to the Dunmer, our distinguishing features must be as obvious as their ash-grey skin and red eyes are to us.

The trader Arrille, another High Elf, looked me over critically as I entered the inn. I felt the back of my neck itch slightly. I've always had a slight inferiority complex around Altmer ? deliberately or not, they somehow invariably manage to give the impression that they're looking down on you. (It doesn't help that they literally are, as most of them stand six inches taller than your average human.)

"Ah, you must be Fargoth's friend!" he exclaimed, as I approached. "Welcome to Arrille's Tradehouse. I'm Arille, publican and proprietor. Would you like to hear about our most popular potions, or our most popular scrolls?"

I leaned over the counter. "Do you have any? weapons?"

I bought an iron longsword and shield at a cost of around seventy drakes (the local term for what we call 'septims', apparently), regretfully passing over a rather snazzy green robe. Yes, I admit it: I love fine clothes. I wear armour most of the time, but if it didn't get in the way of fighting, I'd quite happily run around dressed in silks and satins as the mages do. (No need for practical clothing when you can just blast enemies with a fireball spell from twenty feet.)

After that, I bought a map and a cheap meal and headed upstairs to the bar to eat. By this time I was so hungry that I could quite happily have wolfed down three breakfasts at once, but unfortunately I was already getting low on money. I'd have to make some more somehow or I'd end up being stuck in this place for ever.

The dark-skinned woman behind the bar gave me a friendly smile, which I returned. I rather like Redguards; they're skilled fighters and they know how to have a good time, with none of the snottiness of elves or Bretons. (So do Nords, come to that ? just make sure you never try to outdrink one.)

"Hello there," she said, as I sat down at the bar with my plate of food. "You're new here, aren't you? I'm Elone the Scout. If you need any directions, just ask."

"Thanks." We shook hands. "I'm Ada Ventura, of Imperial City. Maybe you could tell me how to get to Balmora?"

She wrote down some directions and marked various places of interest on my map, while I settled down to my meal of bread and crab meat. Sedya Neen was on the south-west coast of Vvardenfell, the large island that made up the bulk of northern Morrowind. Balmora was a medium-sized town to the north, though apparently quite a long walk away. "You'd be better off taking the silt strider," she advised me.

"This may sound like a stupid question," I said, "but? what exactly is a silt strider?"

She grinned. "Silt striders are giant insects. A compartment for passengers and cargo is hollowed from the shell, and the driver directs it by manipulating exposed organs and tissues. Pretty clever, don't you think?"

Wow. Back in Cyrodiil, we just use horses.

"So what brings you to Morrowind, Ada?" she asked eventually. "We don't see a lot of Imperial tourists here."

"I'm not a tourist."

"Business, then?" She looked surprised; it was clear from my outfit that I wasn't wealthy.

"No." I lowered my voice. "As a matter of fact, I? was just released from prison."

Elone's eyes widened. "Really? What did ? " She checked herself quickly. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"No, that's OK." I felt a sudden urge to confide in someone, anyone. "You see, it was like this?"

*****

If I had only listened to my parents, none of this would ever have happened. Not my real parents, of course ? I never knew my birth family, as they were kind enough to dump me in a basket outside the Temple of the One on the day I was born. To this day I have no idea who they were, or why they abandoned me. Supposedly I'd been wrapped in good linen, which suggested that they were well-off, but other than that there was nothing I could use to identify them.

I was taken in by a kindly local couple, Marcus and Sybilla Ventura, who raised me as their own child for eighteen years (though I called them 'Aunt' and 'Uncle'). I won't pretend they weren't good to me; they brought me up well, bought me fine clothes and jewellery to wear, and pretended for as long as they could that I was going to turn out a beauty. The only thing they asked for in return was a dutiful daughter ? which I unfortunately wasn't.

It wasn't that they were blinkered enough to deny me a trade, but their idea of a suitable trade didn't exactly mesh with mine. They'd have preferred me to marry some rich merchant and settle down to the normal Imperial pursuits, namely: making money, making more money, hoarding it all up into a nice little pile, and then using it to make even more money. But I had other ideas: from the day I first visited the Arena, at the tender age of eight, I had known that I wanted to be a fighter. It was to lead to many, many bitter arguments between me and my family.

"I wouldn't have minded the Legion," Aunt Sybilla had sniffled, after one of these fights. "At least that's a respectable profession. But what kind of trade is 'wandering adventurer'? Messing around in horrible dirty caves and brawling in low taverns."

I'd laughed at the time, but it was one of those 'low taverns' that had done for me in the end. I'd only stopped there for the night on my way to a job in Cheydinhal, near the border with Morrowind. The mead there was cheap, but powerful ? the kind that doubles your strength at the expense of shutting down half your brain cells ? and, fatally, I'd ended up drinking a few glasses too many.

It was all his fault, really. He shouldn't have tried to cop a feel, and he certainly shouldn't have called me that name when I shoved him away and told him to get lost. Besides, he was twice my size; how could I have guessed that my first punch would knock him out, or that he'd smash his head against the stone fireplace as he fell? I really, really didn't mean to kill him.

There were plenty of witnesses to testify that it had been an accident ? I'd even drunkenly tried to use a healing potion on him as he died ? and I might have got away with a lighter sentence, had it not been for the guy's family. He turned out to be the son of a noble family, one of those spoiled brats who like to show how 'hard' they are by visiting rough taverns and slumming it with the locals. His parents were hell-bent on charging me with murder, and they'd demanded blood money of five thousand septims ? far more than I could possibly afford. I was far too ashamed to ask my adoptive family for help, and in any case, I'd hardly spoken to them since I left home nearly four years earlier.

So I went to prison, just under a month before my twenty-second birthday, with no clear prospect of release and my career (such as it was) in ruins. I'd been there ever since, rotting in a cell, only half a mile away from the fashionable district where I'd grown up.

*****

I didn't give Elone the whole sob story, of course. I just told her that I'd been imprisoned for murder after accidentally killing a guy in a fight. She seemed sympathetic.

"Well, time to make a fresh start, huh?" she suggested. "Wipe the slate clean. Make a new life for yourself here in Morrowind."

"Hmph." I wasn't too sure about that.

I finished off my meal, while Elone filled me in on the latest gossip. Apparently the local tax collector, Processus Vitellius, had gone missing. "Can't say I'm surprised," she said with a wink. "He wasn't very popular around here."

I wondered if there had ever been a tax collector in the entire history of the world who was actually popular with the locals. If so, he had to be some kind of saint.

As I left the bar, I was accosted by an off-duty Legionnaire at the top of the stairs. He was a typical Nord, big and beefy, with braided flaxen hair and a heavy beard. "Ho there, outlander!" His voice was slightly slurred, and I could smell alcohol on his breath ? not a good sign at this time in the morning.

"Yes?" I said warily, keeping my hand on the hilt of my sword.

He leaned towards me. "You look like you could use a friend. Perhaps I could be your friend? if you help me recover some gold."

"Go on."

"You see, I've had a run of bad luck," he confessed. "Lost a bit of money playing Nine-holes. Normally, I'd be fine, what with the money the locals pay us for? protection, but ? "

"Protection," I said drily. "Right."

"But I know some of them are holding out on me," he went on. "That little fetcher Fargoth, for example. He's come up light the last few times I've shaken him down. And I've been through his whole house, so I know it's not there."

I couldn't help feeling sorry for Fargoth. The Bosmer are basically the racial equivalent of those scrawny kids who keep getting beaten up for their lunch money.

"So what do you want me to do?" I asked.

He motioned for me to come closer, and spoke in a low voice. "Find out where he's stashing his gold. If you do it for me, I'll give you a share of the wealth. You up for it?"

I was about to tell him to go and do his own dirty work, when I suddenly remembered how very short of money I was. I had only around fifteen septims left, which would barely be enough to pay for the silt strider, let alone any more meals (and food was pretty high on my list of priorities right now). Maybe this was not the best time to be a stickler for high moral principles.

"Maybe," I mumbled. "So how would we share this wealth, exactly?"

He sighed. "I'll give you a third of the gold, and you can keep any other loot you find. Deal?"

"All right," I said reluctantly. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just wait until nightfall and then watch where he goes. The top of the lighthouse is a good vantage point ? gives you a nice view of all Sedya Neen. Figure out where he goes and then bring the loot back to me, okay?"

It wasn't really stealing, I told myself as I left the tradehouse. This was a Legion soldier, after all. No doubt he was collecting that money for entirely legitimate purposes of? protection. Absolutely.

Anyway, once I had some more money, it would be time to start figuring out a way to get home. Okay, so Morrowind might not be quite as bad as I had expected ? but whatever Elone said, there was no way I would consider actually living here for any length of time. I was a Cyrodiil born and bred, and I belonged there.

I knew that my Uncle Marcus, a silk merchant, traded goods through the East Empire Company in the port of Ebonheart. Maybe I could find a ship there that would take me to the mainland? It would be expensive, no doubt, but perhaps I could find someone who knew my uncle ? or perhaps even stow away on board a ship. There had to be some way out of this place.

I definitely did not plan to stay in Morrowind.

First person is hard, so good job with that. However I need to point out the typo in the title.

How did you post one this long. When I try to post a long one, I get a board message saying something about an authorisation mismatch. I have to keep trying for like 30 mins before it works. Any tips? Oh and awesome fanfic!

The 'typo' in the title is deliberate - you'll see why later in the fic. I've never posted any stories here before, so I've no idea why making long posts would work for me and not for other people, but I haven't had any error messages.

Pretty good. Gave me a laugh at Ada's reaction to heading to Morrowind. I wonder how she will do in combat >:)

Chapter 2: Seeing The Sights

Just outside the tradehouse I met an Imperial man in his early forties. It was great to see someone else of my own race ? apart from the guards, of course ? and I greeted him warmly. "Hi there."

"Hello, sister," he said, smiling. "Are you new here? You'll be wanting to take the silt strider to get out of this place."

"Where can I find it?"

He gestured towards a steep incline on the eastern bank of the river which surrounded the village. "Just at the top of the hill there. Tell the caravaner that Vodunius Nuccius sent you."

I stared in amazement when I first saw the silt strider. It was a massive insect, at least twenty feet high, with legs as thick as tree trunks ? like a ground beetle blown up to gigantic proportions by some kind of magical accident. The hollowed-out body, where the passengers rode, could only be reached from the top of the hill that Vodunius had indicated.

The caravaner told me that she made a round trip to Balmora twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. Since I'd agreed to spy on Fargoth that evening, I'd have to spend the night in Sedya Neen.

In the meantime, I decided to make the most of my time here and explore a little. There wasn't much to see, with the scenery mainly consisting of swamp, swamp and more swamp, but a few hundred yards from the village I came across a small wooden door in a cliff face. How nice, I thought. A little cave.

I did hesitate briefly before entering, but there was nothing to indicate that it was private or off limits in any way. I assumed that the door had been put there for the benefit of the occasional tourist who came through Sedya Neen ? after all, it wasn't as if the place had many other attractions to offer. It swung open easily on my touch, and I entered the cave through the narrow doorway.

The cave was small and dark, lit only by a few torches and a wood fire in the centre. At the far side I could see another wooden gate, which presumably led further into a system of caverns. I stood on a rocky ledge a couple of feet above the ground; on the floor below, next to an overturned boat, a Dunmer woman in sailor's clothing sat warming herself by the fire.

The moment she saw me she leapt to her feet, her face contorted with fury. "You n'wah!"

"Er? sorry," I murmured, backing away slightly. "Am I trespassing? I didn't realise ? "

I swear to Akatosh, she just rushed straight at me. No warning, not even a "surrender or die!", just a rusty-looking iron dagger straight in my face. If she hadn't had to run up to the ledge to reach me, I wouldn't even have had time to reach for my sword. It was only by some miracle that I managed to block her first couple of blows with my shield.

I've no idea why she thought it was a good idea to attack a swordswoman with a dagger ? maybe she thought the element of surprise would be enough to give her the edge. As it was, instinct kicked in and I lashed out with my blade, cutting deeply into her arm and causing her to drop the knife with a howl of pain. The blow knocked her off balance and she fell backwards off the ledge, striking her head against a jutting-out rock with a sickening and all-too-familiar crack.

I jumped down from the ledge and ran over to the gate, which opened onto a flight of steps leading down into the cave. Somewhere below I could hear alarmed voices echoing through the cavern. More of them?

Footsteps clattered up the stairs and I had the presence of mind to throw myself into the hollow behind the wooden doorframe, just seconds before another Dunmer rushed through the gate. He wore only a robe, with no armour or weapons visible, and I heard him mutter some kind of protection spell as he entered. Uh-oh, a mage. This was not good.

I'd fought mages before, of course, mainly necromancers. (Necromancy isn't technically banned in Cyrodiil ? though the Mages' Guild has been arguing about it for years ? but they tend to get really shirty when you interrupt them in the middle of their foul rituals.) But I'd always been careful to wear armour with the appropriate enchantments, or simply snipe them from a distance with a bow and arrow ? and neither of those things were available right now. Any second now the guy was going to turn around and see me, and when he did, I was dead.

There was no time to think. As the mage bent over the body of his fallen companion, I sprang out of my hiding-place and rushed at him with sword raised. He whirled round, starting to mouth the words to a spell, and I slashed him a heavy blow across the neck. He collapsed to his knees, gasping and clutching at his throat.

Something very sharp struck my left shoulder, and I turned to see yet another Dunmer woman in standing in the doorway, a gleam of metal glinting in her upraised hand. Throwing stars? I deflected the next one with my shield and rushed straight at her, shoving her backwards with all my strength. She shrieked, stumbled backwards, lost her footing and tumbled headlong down the steep flight of steps just behind the gate, coming to rest in a crumpled heap at the bottom.

I glanced around frantically, clutching my injured shoulder, but no further attackers appeared. The two other Dunmer were lying motionless on the floor, still twitching slightly, but clearly either dying or already dead. A sudden heavy silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the fire and my ragged breathing.

With my heart still thumping like a hammer, I crept down the steps to the bottom of the cave, fully expecting to be jumped by more crazed Dunmer at any moment. The sound of a rat squeaking somewhere in the distance nearly gave me a heart attack. At the foot of the stairs I bent over the second woman's body to check her pulse, but I could tell just by looking at her that she was dead.

I drew a long, deep, shaky breath, trying to get a grip on myself. What the hell was going on here? Why had these people attacked me on sight without the slightest provocation? The only people I knew who acted like that were necromancers, but these guys clearly weren't necromancers ? not enough stylish black robes and fancy skull-and-pentagram decorations, for a start. And just what the heck was an n'wah?

The feeling of something wet trickling down the side of my arm reminded me that I'd been wounded. I craned my neck to see the cut on my shoulder ? it didn't look very deep, but it was bleeding quite heavily, and once the shock wore off it would probably hurt like hell. I really ought to fix it before it got infected or something.

I tried to cast a healing spell, but I was still breathless and shaking, and I stumbled over the Daedric words. The problem with spells is that if you don't say them exactly right, while gesturing in exactly the right way and focussing the magical energies at precisely the right moment, they just don't work. A second unsuccessful attempt left me with too little magicka for a third try ? meaning that I'd have to waste money on a healing potion later on. I sighed, and looked around for something to bandage up the wound.

The cave had clearly been used as a base by these people ? whoever they were ? for quite a while. Flickering torchlight illuminated a wooden platform stacked with crates and barrels, by the side of a large pool in the floor of the cave. On one of the crates was a small key, which I took, and ? oh, joy! ? a pile of clean clothes, probably belonging to one of the female Dark Elves. I wound one of the shirts around my shoulder as a bandage, and tucked the rest under my arm for later.

Further into the cave I could see more piles of crates, neatly stacked. Just what was this place being used for? I cautiously prised open the lid of the nearest crate, to find it stuffed with packets of what looked like moon sugar. Another one contained about a dozen small, opaque bottles, each of the exact same size and shape.

Carefully pulling the stopper out of one bottle, I was almost knocked backwards by the powerful stench of skooma. Ah, so that was what was going on here ? smuggling! No wonder those Dunmer had reacted so badly to my innocently stumbling on their little hideout.

I used a sack and some string to put together a makeshift pack, and began to search the crates for anything which I could use to barter. The skooma would have fetched a good price with anyone who was willing to deal in that sort of thing, but I wasn't touching it. I didn't know what the penalty was for possession of the stuff here in Morrowind, and I really didn't want to find out.

I caught sight of my reflection in the still water of the pool as I knelt down by one of the crates, and it wasn't a pretty sight. My face was streaked with grime, my skin looked even pastier than usual after months of sunlight-deprivation, and my hair was a rat's nest. Gods, even in prison I'd managed to keep myself cleaner and tidier than this. My comb was one of the very few possessions they'd allowed me to keep, after I'd pleaded with the guard captain (yeah, I know it's pathetic, but I can't help it. I'm an Imperial; it's in the blood.)

Having gathered up anything which I thought might fetch a few coins, I made my way up the stairs to the cave opening. Just as I was about to leave I heard footsteps and a faint cough, somewhere up above me. I spun round, sword at the ready, but all I saw was a wooden gate at the top of another flight of steps.

Very, very cautiously, I crept up the stairs ? shield held out in front of me to deflect any attacks ? and peered through the slats of the gate. It was padlocked, and inside I could see three figures: two Argonians, a male and a female, and a Khajiit. They looked painfully thin, and the Khajiit's fur was dirty and matted. Prisoners?

I fumbled for the key which I'd picked up earlier and tried it in the gate; it turned easily. The prisoners cowered back a little as I pushed open the gate; poor things, they clearly hadn't been treated well by their captors. We stared at each other in silence for a couple of seconds, until finally one of the Argonians hissed "Misstresss?"

"It's okay," I said quickly, anxious to reassure them. "I've killed all the smugglers. You're free to go."

The prisoners exchanged glances, but none of them moved. Finally the Khajiit spoke up: "You must unlock these bracers to free us, good friend."

I stared at the iron bracers on his outstretched wrists. They had a faint shimmer around them indicating some kind of enchantment ? I couldn't tell what kind without examining them more closely. For a moment I wondered what could possibly be going on here, and then suddenly it hit me.

They were slaves.

?Slavery was legal in Morrowind, wasn't it?

I'd had plenty of heated debates about slavery with the Dunmer I'd met in the past (generally over several glasses of ale), but we'd always ended by politely agreeing to disagree. But that had been back in Cyrodiil, where the question was entirely academic in any case. Now that I was here in Morrowind, I was going to come across slaves and slave owners all the time? which meant I would either have to stand by and watch it happen, or do something about it. And if I chose the second option, I was the one breaking the law.

I wish I could say that I immediately brushed off all other concerns in favour of Doing The Right Thing, but I didn't. Instead, I hesitated, wondering if I could really afford to risk going back to jail again. The three slaves stared back at me with mournful eyes, waiting.

Oh, sod it. I couldn't just leave them here to starve, could I? Besides, who could object to me freeing slaves from smugglers?

I tried the gate key on one of the Khajiit's wrist irons, and it fit perfectly. Quickly I unlocked all the bracers, tossing them into a heap in the corner. "Thank you, ssssera," whispered the first Argonian, but they still made no attempt to leave.

"Guys, you can go now," I told them. "Seriously."

Nobody moved. "Fine," I said, with a sigh. "In your own time, then."

Oh well, at least I'd done my good deed for the day. Maybe it would somehow make up for the not-quite-so-good one I was going to do later this evening.

Leaving the cave I felt a twinge of pain in my left shoulder, reminding me that I still had a fairly nasty wound to deal with. My muscles were starting to ache as well, and I hadn't even been fighting that hard. It was just beginning to dawn on me how very out of practice I was after a year in prison. When I was in the Guild I'd worked out nearly every day to keep myself in shape, but months of lounging around in a jail cell had taken their toll.

A Dark Elf woman paused in the middle of hanging out her washing as I limped past. "Outlander, you are wounded!"

"Yes, well noticed," I snapped, too tired and annoyed for politeness. "Did you know that there were smugglers hiding out in the cave over there?"

"Of course," she said, nodding vigorously. "Everyone knows, but the guards just ignore it. Someone must have paid them off."

"Well, someone might have told me!" I hissed. "Before I wandered straight into them!"

Her jaw dropped. "Outlander, are you saying you went in there alone? And? and came out alive?"

"Just about," I said sourly. "Anyway, they're all dead now. I hope there's some kind of reward for this, by the way."

She backed away slightly, clearly unsure whether or not to believe me. I shrugged and staggered on up to the tradehouse, ignoring Snotty Arrille's look of disgust at my dishevelled state and bloodstained clothing.

"A flask of your finest healing potion, Arrille, my good man," I rasped, tossing down some coins on the counter. "And do you have any Destruction spells?"

I made my purchases and then headed to the upper rooms for a well-earned bath, clutching a healing potion in one hand and the instructions for a powerful fireball spell in the other. Ten minutes later, relaxing happily in a tub of warm water, I remembered that Dunmer were virtually immune to fire magic ? rendering my expensive new spell useless against well over half of Vvardenfell's population. Oh, well.

I scrubbed myself and my armour until we were both clean and shiny, and managed to torture my hair into something resembling neatness. That done, I put on my new clothes and went out to spend the rest of the day in Sedya Neen. I was careful to stay well within sight of the heavily-armed Imperial guards, though I did return briefly to the cave just to check what had happened to the slaves. They were gone.

At dusk, I went to the lighthouse to take up position for my observation of Fargoth. A young Dunmer woman, probably the lighthouse-keeper, was sat reading on a bench just inside; she shot me a rather curious glance as I passed, clearly wondering what I was doing there. I stuck my hands in my pockets and whistled as I walked up the stairs, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

The sun was sinking behind the horizon as I emerged on top of the lighthouse; it was getting distinctly colder, and a stiff breeze had sprung up. Suddenly I wished I'd bought some kind of coat or cloak to protect myself from the wind, instead of wasting my money on a near-useless fire spell. I positioned myself strategically behind the base of the lamp, where I couldn't be easily seen by anyone in the village, and settled down to wait.

You ever read those adventure stories where the hero trails the villains to their lair to spy on them, and it all sounds incredibly exciting? Don't believe them. I sat there for nearly four hours, huddled up and growing rapidly colder and stiffer, before I finally spotted Fargoth creeping through the shacks at the water's edge. He was carrying a lit torch, and moving in such an exaggeratedly 'sneaky' way that I wondered he didn't alert the whole village.

To my surprise, he paused suddenly by the bank of a small pond and glanced around him to check that no one was watching. Satisfied, he proceeded to creep into the water, where I saw him stuff something into a tree-stump in the middle of the pond. A-ha!

I waited until I was sure he was gone and then stood up, wincing with pain as the blood rushed back into my frozen muscles. It was near midnight now, and the only light came from the two moons, the lighthouse fire, and a couple of torches down in the village. I made my way down from the base of the lamp to the door which led back into the lighthouse, and gave it a careful push. It didn't budge.

I pushed again, harder, but it still didn't move. Oh, bloody hell, they'd locked it!

I looked around frantically, trying not to panic. The walls of the lighthouse were too smooth to climb, especially with all the gear I had to carry, and if I tried to jump from this height I'd probably break my neck. I could try knocking, but that might well alert one of the guards down below. As if on cue, I heard a faint rumble of thunder in the distance and felt a couple of drops of rain splash onto my head.

There wasn't much choice, was there? Either I stayed up here in the freezing cold and rain for the entire night, and missed my chance to get Fargoth's loot, or I risked arrest ? not to mention severe embarrassment ? by waking up the lighthouse-keeper. Of the two options, I decided I preferred the latter.

I had to knock several times, quite heavily, before the sleepy-looking Dunmer woman finally opened the door. She looked pretty astonished to see me, which was understandable. "Outlander, what are you doing up here? I thought you'd gone!"

"Sorry," I mumbled. "Just don't ask, okay?"

She shook her head in disbelief, but forbore to ask any more questions. I left the lighthouse as quickly as possible and hurried over to the pond where I'd seen Fargoth. It appeared to be part of the swamp, as it stank and the surface was covered with a thick coating of algae. Once I was sure that none of the patrolling guards were nearby, I rolled up the legs of my pants and waded knee-deep into the cold, stagnant, smelly water.

As I had guessed, the tree-stump was hollow. Inside I found a money pouch, a lockpick and a ring ? ironically, the very same ring I'd recovered for Fargoth earlier in the day. Talk about playing both sides?

I managed to leave the pond without being spotted and headed back to the tradehouse, only to find that it had shut up for the night. I groaned in disgust and was just about to leave, hoping I could at least find a dry place to sleep, when I heard footsteps behind me and a hoarse whisper.

"Psst! Outlander!" It was the Nord soldier who had asked me to find Fargoth's hiding place. He looked even more drunk than he had earlier in the day, and was swaying slightly. "You get my money?"

"Here. Three hundred septims." I shoved the bag into his hand, trying rather unsuccessfully to conceal my distaste for the entire business.

"Ha! Sherve the li'l fetcher right for lying to me." He thrust a meaty hand into the bag and pulled out a handful of coins. "Here, take your share." He took a wobbly step towards me, leering into my face, and my heart sank. "You're pretty, y'know that?"

"No, I'm not," I said through gritted teeth. "That's just the ale talking. Now, if you'll excuse me ? "

The man chuckled. "Jush kidding, outlander. Heard about you and the shmugglers. I can see you've Nord blood in yer, for all you're a stuck-up Cyrodiil." I took it that this was meant as a compliment. "Shay," he continued, "how'd you like to join the Legion?"

"Join the Legion?" I was momentarily taken aback. "Could I do that?"

"Sure! Jush head up north to Gnisish an' talk to General, uh? wossname. They're hiring there." He gave me a little wave and wandered off.

Wow, I thought. Only a day ago I'd been a convict on board a prison ship, now I was being asked to join the Imperial Legion. Truly Morrowind was a land of opportunity.

I'd never really considered joining the Legion before ? I preferred the more relaxed atmosphere of the Fighters' Guild ? but suddenly it didn't sound like such a bad idea. In my current penniless state, the prospect of free food, free beds and good-quality armour and weapons was pretty tempting. Though of course, there wouldn't be much point in joining if I was heading back to Cyrodiil in a few weeks.

Anyway, right now I needed to find a safe place to spend the night, preferably out of the rain. The cave would be dry, but I didn't fancy spending the night there with three dead bodies ? quite apart from the blood and mess, waking up surrounded by vengeful ghosts was not my idea of fun. I ended up crawling under the wooden steps leading up to the tradehouse, and was just trying to find a comfortable spot when I was interrupted by a passing Legion soldier. "Sorry, citizen, you can't sleep here. It's illegal."

"But the inn is shut," I protested.

"Then you'll have to sleep outside the village. I'm sorry, ma'am."

Cursing under my breath, I gathered together my things and headed over the bridge that led to the mainland. It was seriously dark out here, and since I'd foolishly neglected to bring a torch I had almost no way to see where I was going. After wandering around for several minutes, trying to keep out of the rain and avoid stumbling into a bog, I finally managed to find a relatively dry patch of moss under a tree. There I settled down to sleep, clutching my sword and hoping I wouldn't wake up to find a mudcrab chewing my face off.

When I woke, it was early morning and the first weak shafts of sunlight were starting to filter through the trees. Birdsong filled the air, and I could hear a faint buzzing noise somewhere behind me. There was also a? rather curious smell, which I couldn't quite identify.

I hoisted myself into a sitting position, looking around me to see if the village was in sight, and suddenly froze. In the dim light, that weird shape a few feet away looked exactly like? good gods, it was, wasn't it? A man's body, lying spreadeagled on the ground and surrounded by a small cloud of flies ? and a pool of dried blood.

I had to suppress a shudder as I approached the corpse. I'd seen far too many dead bodies to be squeamish around them, but this one was particularly disgusting; the man had clearly been dead several days, and his body was already beginning to decompose. His throat had been cut ? probably from behind, as his face was frozen in a grimace of surprise and horror and it looked like he'd struggled briefly. Poor bastard.

I crouched down and began to search the body to see if there was anything to identify him. In a pocket of his robe I discovered a bag of money, around two hundred septims in all, and a list of names showing amounts owed to 'Sedya Neen Census and Excise Office' by each inhabitant of the village. My amazing powers of deduction allowed me to guess that this was Processus Vitellius, the missing taxman.

Great, I thought. Just great. Now I'd have to go back and report this to the Captain, and he'd probably want to start asking me questions. At least I couldn't be accused of this murder; anyone could see the guy had been dead since before I'd arrived in the village.

Sellus Gravius looked anything but happy when I marched into his office. "Are you still here? I thought ? "

"Yes, yes, I'm going," I said testily. "I just came to tell you that I found your missing tax collector, out there in the swamp. Or what's left of him, at least."

His eyes widened in shock. "Then? he's dead? Murdered?"

"Yes. And it wasn't me," I added quickly. "He's been dead for days."

"Oh, dear," he sighed. "You'd better go and speak to Socucius Ergalla, over in the census office."

I returned to Socucius, the clerk who'd greeted me when I first arrived in Sedya Neen, and explained to him how I'd found Vitellius's body. "What a waste," he said sadly, shaking his head. "He was a good man, too. But these are dangerous times we live in."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, thinking of the cave of murderous smugglers two minutes' walk away from the village.

"Did you happen to find the tax money he collected?" he enquired. "I hate to sound callous, but I have a job to do."

"Yes, I did. Here." I handed him the pouch with the 200 septims, and the tax record showing who had paid.

Ergalla frowned. "How odd that he was murdered, but not robbed. Still, thank you, Ada ? I appreciate your honesty." He paused. "In fact, if you're looking for some money, I would like to see Processus's murderer punished. Find him, bring him to justice, and the Census and Excise Office will pay you 500 septims."

Five hundred! I wished I'd known about this earlier. That way I wouldn't have had to spend the previous night freezing my [censored] off on top of a lighthouse.

"I'll find him," I promised. "Or her. Any ideas where I should start looking?"

"No," he said sadly. "Who could possibly have wanted to kill an innocent taxman?" Who indeed.

Amazingly enough, the people of Sedya Neen didn't seem all that keen on helping me with my enquiries. After asking several people I was eventually directed to Thavere Vedrano, the Dunmer woman who lived in the lighthouse. Apparently she and Processus had been good 'friends' and had been seeing a lot of each other lately.

I greeted her awkwardly, partly out of embarrassment over the previous night's events, but mainly because I wasn't sure how to break the news. "Hello, Thavere," I said softly. "I'm? afraid I have some bad news for you."

Her eyes widened. "It's Processus, isn't it?"

I nodded. "He's been found dead, I'm afraid. Murdered. I'm really sorry." Gods, I hated having to do this.

"Murdered!" she gasped. "But ? but why?" She turned away, blinking back tears. "He was the gentlest man I've ever met. I've never seen him raise a hand to anyone. Who could have wanted to kill him?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I was hoping you might have some idea."

She thought for a moment, sniffling. "Well, I saw him arguing with Foryn Gilnith about his taxes. He thought Processus had been levying too much, and skimming off the top for himself." A choked sob escaped her. "Ridiculous! Processus wouldn't have done such a thing."

"All right, I'll speak with Foryn," I said. "You don't know of anyone else who might have wanted him dead?"

She shook her head, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "No. Outlander, Processus and I had become very? close, in the past few months. Could you find out what happened to the ring I gave him? I would like it to remember him by."

"I'll do my best," I promised, and left her to grieve in private.

Foryn Gilnith turned out to live in one of the wooden shacks by the waterside, a small, poky one-room cottage. The inside was as cheerless as the outside, with only a hammock for a bed and some rickety wooden furniture. Gilnith himself looked far from pleased to see me; I got the impression that he didn't much like outlanders, or at least Imperials.

"Good morning," I said briskly. "My name's Ada Ventura, and I'm investigating the murder of a certain Processus Vitellius. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

He met my glance defiantly. "That fetcher? You're damn right I did him in, and a good thing too!"

My mouth dropped open. I hadn't expected him to just come out and admit it!

"He was skimming a load of money from all of us honest people," he continued. "Overcharging us on our taxes and keeping the difference for himself. He was always flaunting his money around, showing off his new clothes and jewels."

"I see," I said, folding my arms. "So you slit his throat and dumped his body in the swamp."

He nodded. "Yes, and good riddance to the bastard. Look what I found on him!" He dug into his pocket and pulled out an expensive-looking ring. "You think he could afford this on a taxman's salary?"

"You idiot," I growled. "He didn't buy that ring, it was given to him by Thavere Vedrano. His girlfriend."

"Oh." For a moment he looked slightly uncomfortable, but then the defiance returned to his eyes. "So what are you going to do, Imperial? Kill me, or side with us poor folk and let me go?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "Look, you can't just go around killing people because you think taxes are too high! If you'll come quietly to the census office, I'm sure we can ? "

He lashed out so quickly with the dagger that I only managed to dodge it by a fraction of a second. Automatically I struck back, skewering him through the ribs with my sword before I even had time to think. He staggered back, gurgling horribly as blood began to dribble from his mouth. I finished him off with a few clean strokes, not wanting to prolong his suffering, and he fell lifeless to the floor.

I gazed incredulously at the grim scene in front of me, shaking my head. One single day I'd been in Morrowind, and already I'd killed four people and broken the law at least twice. What kind of reputation would I have by this time tomorrow?

I decided it was probably time to get out of Sedya Neen.

In the years since Morrowind has been released, there have been more novelisations (in the fanfic sense of course) of the ingame events than I can count. Which means, given that the readers are familiar with the events both from the game and from the numerous other stories, that a new story following those lines has to be pretty damn good in order to stand out. Luckily this is showing signs that it could well be. Already I like your lead character, she's very personable and her internal dialogues bring a richness to the familiar events, and that's a very good start.

Good character, nice writing style, yep I'll follow this one with interest

Hi.

Wow. Every couple of months I try to shake myself off and write a Morrowind fanfiction ever since I finished the Oblivion one. This is looking very good so far, keep it up! See you on fanfiction.net, I guess.

Chapter 3: A Warm Welcome

Of course, what with all the fuss over the murder and Foryn Gilnith's death, I ended up missing the silt strider again and had to spend yet another day in Sedya Neen. Naturally the news was all around the village in about five minutes, and for the rest of the day I had to put up with the other villagers scowling at me and muttering imprecations (from a safe distance, mind you). I don't think I've ever been so happy to finally leave a place. It wasn't all bad, though; I got the reward money, and Thavere gave me some healing potions as thanks for returning Processus's ring.

Just before I left, while no one was looking, I picked the lock on Fargoth's door and slipped inside his house. There I left his healing ring, along with three hundred septims and a short note telling him to be more careful next time. Stupid conscience.

I slept on board the silt strider ? a fairly uncomfortable experience, but a lot better than the previous night ? and was woken up next morning by the caravaner as we arrived in Balmora. I found myself standing at the top of a huge ramp, high enough to give me a view of the entire city. It was a pretty little town, with a river flowing through the centre and buildings constructed from warm brown stone ? a very different style from Imperial cities, but still attractive. I wouldn't have minded living here, if I hadn't been so desperate to get back to Cyrodiil.

Directly below us I could see two Dunmer enjoying breakfast on top of one of the buildings. I decided to head down there and ask them the way to the South Wall cornerclub, so that I could get this Caius Cosades business over with. The sign on the building said 'Council Club' ? it took me a minute to work this out, as the words were in Tamrielic but written in the Daedric script. I would later find out that this was very common in Morrowind.

When I got up to the rooftop, however, I started to think this might not have been such a good idea. The two men ? a rough-looking pair, their faces marked with some kind of clan tattoos ? looked at me as if I were something that had just crawled out of the river, and once again I got the uncomfortable feeling that I'd intruded somewhere I shouldn't. Still, it was too late to go back without looking like an idiot, so I plunged ahead.

"Good morning," I said, trying to sound as friendly and non-threatening as possible. "Sorry to bother you, but I've just arrived here and I was wondering if you could help me."

The pause that followed was far too long for comfort. Finally, with obvious reluctance, one of the men said, "What do you want, outlander?"

"Just some directions," I said. "I'm looking for the South Wall cornerclub?"

Instantly I realised I'd said something very wrong. The Dunmer glanced sharply at each other, and suddenly their demeanour became a whole lot more threatening. The second of them took a step towards me, a truly unpleasant expression on his face. "What sort of business do you have there, outlander?"

"Er, nothing much," I said hurriedly, wishing fervently that I'd tried somewhere else first. "I was just told they could help me find a? friend."

The two Dunmer exchanged another quick glance, and one of them nodded to the other. He took a couple of steps towards me, shoving his face right up against mine, and it took all my self-control not to back away from him.

"Listen, outlander," he said through clenched teeth. "We are Camonna Tong. And you are a foreigner. And the Camonna Tong doesn't like foreigners. Understand?" He jabbed a finger into my ribs. "So go and ask someone else for your directions."

"Ah, traditional Dunmer hospitality," I said drily, determined not to let them see how nervous I was. The Dunmer's scowl deepened, and he ground his teeth audibly. "Fine, sorry I asked."

"Good," he snarled, still glaring at me. "Now go. N'wah."

I left the terrace, now in no very good mood myself. If this was the official Balmora Welcoming Committee, they really needed to work on their people skills.

It was still early in the morning and there were few people around to ask for directions. I thought about visiting one of the shops lining the streets, but now I was afraid of meeting with the same reaction from the shopkeepers. I was beginning to think that I'd just have to wander round the place until I stumbled upon South Wall, when suddenly I spotted a wooden sign on one building with a very familiar shield-and-swords logo. The Fighters' Guild!

A wave of relief swept over me. Surely they wouldn't turn me away? In fact, it would probably be a good idea to join up with them, presuming they'd have me. I needed the money, and with luck I might get hold of some free equipment.

I pushed open the door and entered. A Breton woman in light leather armour stood on guard at the entrance. "Hello, outlander," she said with a smile (how the heck did everyone instantly guess that I was an outlander?) "Looking to join the Fighters' Guild?"

"I was, actually," I said, smiling back gratefully.

"Then speak to Eydis Fire-Eye upstairs."

Eydis Fire-Eye was a Nord, as I had guessed from the name. She was a tall, stocky woman with red hair ? not a weak gingery colour like mine, but a true, fiery red. The suit of armour she wore was made out of some kind of gold-coloured material which I didn't recognise, though it looked vaguely familiar.

"Well, speak up, Imperial!" she boomed, when I rather shyly introduced myself. "What do you want? You here to join us?"

"I was hoping to, yes."

She nodded. "Well, you look like you could take care of yourself. Would you like to hear our creed first?"

"I know it," I said. "I was in the Cyrodiil guild. Er? Defender," I added. "Though I've? been out of the game for a while."

She raised her eyebrows. "Defender, eh? Who'd you report to in Cyrodiil?"

"Uh? Modryn Oreyn." Oreyn was a Dark Elf, the Guildmaster's deputy. He was a good fighter, but he'd done little to combat the stereotype of Dunmer as moody, foul-tempered and generally obnoxious. I doubt he'd have let me back in the Guild even if I got back to Cyrodiil; he wasn't the forgiving type.

"Oreyn? I've heard of him. If you can handle him, you can handle anything." She pursed her lips. "Still, I'd better start you off as an Associate for now. Get some missions done, show us your skills, and you should rise back up through the ranks pretty quickly."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm busy right now, but I'll come back for orders as soon as I have time. By the way? did I hear that it was possible to join the Imperial Legion?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, I hear the Deathshead Legion up at Fort Darius in Gnisis is hiring. But don't take on too much at once, Ada."

Good advice. In retrospect, I really ought to have followed it.

Before I left, I took the opportunity to change my clothes and stock up on equipment from the Guild chest ? just a few healing and stamina potions and some armourer's hammers, but that kind of thing could make all the difference out on a mission. In fact, it suddenly occurred to me that if free supplies were on offer, I might as well join the Mages' Guild as well. Okay, so I was useless at magic, but I didn't have to do any duties for them.

I went next door to the Mages' Guild, where the Guild steward ? a woman named Ranis Athrys ? took my details and signed me up as an Associate. I was a little nervous that she might ask me to actually perform some magic before letting me join, but in fact the process was as quick and simple as it had been at the Fighters' Guild. By this time I was getting pretty hungry, so I headed for a tavern called The Eight Plates which one of the other Guild members had recommended to me.

"Would you like to try a kwama egg?" the barkeeper asked me when I sat down at the bar. "It's a Vvardenfell delicacy."

I'd never had a kwama egg before ? in fact, I wasn't even sure what a kwama was ? but I decided to live dangerously and order one. While I was waiting for it to arrive, I took out the letter I'd been given by Sellus Gravius and read through it. It began as follows:

Ada Ventura

You have been given these directions and a package of documents. Do not show them to anyone. Do not attempt to read the documents in the package. The package has been sealed, and your tampering will be discovered and punished.

There followed instructions to take the package to Caius Cosades, and a warning in case I was thinking of absconding:

Remember. You owe your life and freedom to the Emperor. Serve him well, and you will be rewarded. Betray him, and you will suffer the fate of all traitors.

It was signed by 'Glabrio Bellienus, Personal Secretary to the Emperor'. Hmph. Whatever.

The kwama egg arrived. It was at least four times the size of any other egg I had seen, and I wasn't entirely sure how I was supposed to eat it. I tapped cautiously at the shell with my spoon, trying to crack it open without spilling the contents everywhere.

The Dunmer man seated next to me laughed, but not unkindly. "Like this, outlander." He showed me how to cut the shell open with a knife and scoop out the soft centre.

"Thanks." I tried a small spoonful. It tasted a little strange, but I'd definitely had worse.

"So you are new here?" my neighbour asked me as we tucked into our eggs. "What do you think of our city?"

"Well, some of the people here could be a little more friendly," I said sourly, thinking back to the Balmora Welcoming Committee.

He looked shocked, and a little upset. "I am sorry to hear that, sera."

Suddenly I felt rather guilty. It wasn't this guy's fault that other people had been unfriendly to me; maybe I'd just been unlucky. "Sorry," I said hastily. "It's just that those people at the Council Club practically bit my head off when I spoke to them."

He practically choked on a mouthful of egg. "The Council Club? You went in there, outlander?"

"Er... yes," I said. "Shouldn't I have done? It was right next to the silt strider."

He shook his head vigorously, then leaned towards me and lowered his voice. "That is the headquarters of the Camonna Tong."

"Who are they, exactly?"

"The old criminal syndicate here in Morrowind." His voice fell to a whisper. "I didn't tell you this, but everyone knows that their leader is Orvas Dren, the Duke's brother. And they loathe outlanders."

"Okay, I'll keep out of their way," I promised. "Maybe you could tell me where the South Wall cornerclub is?"

Again he spluttered on a mouthful of food. "You went to the Council Club and asked about South Wall?"

I threw up my hands. "Look, maybe you could explain to me exactly what's going on here? So that I don't end up getting myself killed just by talking to the wrong person?"

"Very well." He glanced around to ensure that nobody was listening. "You're an Imperial, so I think it is safe to tell you this. The South Wall club is the hideout of the Imperial Thieves' Guild ? they're in a gang war with the Camonna Tong."

Well, that explained a lot. I was quite interested to hear that the Thieves' Guild operated openly in Morrowind; back in Cyrodiil, the official line is that they don't exist (though of course, everyone knows they do).

"Okay," I said with a sigh. "I'll be more careful who I speak to in future. So? are most people here this hostile towards outlanders?"

He shook his head. "No, most of us are loyal citizens of the Empire? well, in Balmora, at least. We're a House Hlaalu town."
`
I'd heard of House Hlaalu, a little. They were supposed to be the most forward-thinking and pro-Imperial of the Dunmer Great Houses; my uncle traded with them through his agent in the East Empire Company. He was forever complaining about how they'd swindled him on some deal or other, but then he said that about everyone. At the very least he seemed to respect them as good traders ? worthy opponents, if you will.

"So do any of the Houses accept outlanders as members?" I asked.

He nodded. "Technically all of them do. It's hard for an outlander to rise in their ranks, but some do ? there's even a Nord on the Hlaalu Council."

I was impressed. The Dunmer and the Nords are ancient enemies; they've been fighting along the Morrowind-Skyrim border since time immemorial. The Hlaalu must be pretty open-minded to allow a Nord into a high-ranking position.

"Imperials like you usually do best in Hlaalu," he told me. "Not as friendly to outsiders up north in Redoran country? and definitely not as friendly out east with the Telvanni wizards. If you want to join, go to the Council Manor in the High Town."

Well, maybe I would check it out. It couldn't hurt to have some friends in high places.

After obtaining directions from my new Dunmer friend, I set out to find the Council hall. The 'High Town' turned out to be a part of town that was literally raised above the rest, up a flight of steps in the north-west of the city. It was easy to see that this was where the wealthy people lived; the houses were larger and in better repair, and the shops looked a lot more up-market.

The Hlaalu council manor was easy to spot; it was by far the largest building around, and hung with banners. The first person I encountered on entering was a well-dressed Dunmer woman, who looked at me searchingly before saying anything. I was glad now that I'd taken the time to freshen up at the Guild; my outfit wasn't exactly the height of fashion, but at least I looked clean and presentable. Having apparently decided that I measured up to her standards, she gave me a nod and a cautious smile.

"Greetings," she said pleasantly. "I am Nileno Dorvayn. I keep business going here in Balmora while the Hlaalu Councillors are away? which is most of the time. How may I help you?"

"About House Hlaalu?"

"The Hlaalu councillors have conferred upon me the great honour of interviewing those who wish to become members of our illustrious House." She sounded like she'd made this speech a thousand times. "Do you want to join House Hlaalu? You seem like a worthy candidate."

I wasn't entirely sure how she could tell that based on twenty seconds' acquaintance. "I'm not sure," I said cautiously. "I'd like to, but I'm not planning to stay in Vvardenfell for much longer."

She frowned. "But outlander, haven't you heard?"

"Heard about what?"

"They've restricted travel to the mainland because of the Blight. It's a serious disease caused by ash storms," she added, seeing my blank face.

I felt my heart sink like a stone. "Aren't they letting any ships through?"

Nileno shook her head. "All ships from Vvardenfell are being turned back until further notice. Apart from a few Imperial shipments, but they have special permission."

Damn! Damn, damn and damn! Well, that was Morrowind Escape Plan A shot to hell. I'd have to pull some serious strings to get out of Vvardenfell now, and I didn't have any strings to pull.

I heaved a weary sigh. "I see. All right, in that case I guess I might as well join House Hlaalu."

"Very well," she said briskly. "You are now a member of House Hlaalu. When you are ready, we can discuss business and advancement in the House."

"Whoa!" I'd thought there'd be a little more to it than that. "Isn't there anything you should tell me first? Any? rules I should know?"

A faint smile played around her lips. "The rules of House Hlaalu are simple: Never interfere with the business of House Hlaalu. Or if you do," she said with a wink, "be sure you are not caught."

Fair enough, I suppose. Not exactly what I'd expected, but?

I promised to come back later in the day to discuss 'business' with Nileno, then left the hall to resume my hunt for Caius Cosades. I was about to head for the South Wall club when I spotted a strange-looking building off in the distance, set a little apart from the town on top of a hill. It was built in a different style from most of Balmora: flat, roundish, with some kind of glass dome on top. I decided to take a closer look.

The sign outside the building had more Daedric writing on it, but it didn't seem to spell out anything sensible. There were just three letters of the Daedric alphabet: ayem (a), seht (s) and vehk (v). At the bottom of the sign, in Tamrielic, it said 'Tribunal Temple'.

So this is a Temple, I thought, looking at the simple, squat building constructed from packed mud. It was certainly very different from the beautiful chapels of the Nine in Cyrodiil, with their soaring ceilings and stained-glass windows. On impulse, I decided to go in and take a look around.

I'd never been particularly religious, myself. Oh, obviously I believe in the gods ? it's hard not to when you can walk into any chapel and get free healing and blessings just by saying a quick prayer ? but as far as I was concerned, we had a simple arrangement: I didn't bother them and they didn't bother me. I knew very little about the so-called 'Tribunal', except that the priests in Cyrodiil sniffily referred to them as "the false gods of the heathen Dunmer". Well, now I had the chance to find out.

At first sight, the interior of the Temple looked more like a boarding house than a place of worship ? several beds and bunks were visible in rooms just off the entrance hall. Through another door was a room with two shrines and a gravel pit, surrounded with candles and scattered with what I was shocked to realise were human bones. Or possibly Elven bones, which wasn't much better.

A woman in a priestess's robe approached me. "Welcome, my child. Can I help you?"

I inclined my head somewhat nervously towards the pit. "What are the? er? bones for?"

"We Dunmer venerate our ancestors, child." She must have guessed the direction of my thoughts from the expression on my face. "No, we do not sacrifice people! What kind of savages do you take us for, outlander?"

"Oh, I wasn't thinking that," I assured her, hastily and untruthfully. "Er? whydon'tyoutellmeallaboutyourreligion?"

The strained expression on her face relaxed a little. "Well, the Tribunal Temple is the native religion of civilised Morrowind. We worship ALMSIVI."

"Almsivi?"

"Our gods, sera. Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec, also known as the Tribunal."

"Oh, I get it," I said suddenly. "Ayem, seht, and vehk, right? The letters on the sign outside."

She beamed. "Exactly! Would you like to hear more of our Temple, outlander?"

"OK, go ahead," I heard myself saying.

Her eyes lit up. I got the impression she didn't get asked to do this very often, especially not by outlanders. "Well, Almalexia is our Healing Mother, protector of the poor and weak. Sotha Sil the Magus is the patron of Artificers and Wizards. And Lord Vivec is a master of weapons and poetry, the most gallant knight and subtle rogue of the First Council. He lives in His palace in Vivec City here on Vvardenfell."

I blinked. "Hold on? you said he lives there? You can see him?"

The priestess gave me a rather pitying smile. "Our gods are not like your Divines, outlander. They live, and breathe, and walk among us."

"How? nice," I murmured. To be honest, I wasn't sure I liked the idea of bumping into God down the local tavern. I mean, what if you forgot yourself and swore on their name or something? No wonder the Dunmer had such a reputation for religious fanaticism.

"Would you like to join the Temple, my child?" she continued. "Or would you like to hear our doctrine first?"

"Well, er?"

"You will receive discounts on Temple services," she coaxed me. "Such as blessings at shrines, for example."

Actually, that didn't sound like a bad idea. I'd benefited from Divine healing more than once in my own country, and if these were the local gods, it might be a good plan to get on side with them.

"I'll hear the doctrine first," I said cautiously, one eye still on the ancestor pit.

She nodded. "Your fourfold duties are to: Faith, Family, Masters, and all that is good. Perform holy quests and bring lustre to the Temple. Never transgress against your brothers or sisters ? in thought or deed ? as we are all one body. If you somehow fail to uphold these ideals, you must speak with a Master or the Patriarch to be cleansed of your wrongdoings."

I felt a slight twinge of guilt at the 'family' part ? maybe I ought to write and tell them where I was? But anyway, the rest didn't sound too bad. I just hoped that my own gods, the Nine Divines, wouldn't be too pissed off by this ? not that I'd ever properly worshipped them in any case.

"All right," I said. "I'll join."

A few minutes later I was walking down the steps to the river, now clutching a copy of a book called The Pilgrim's Path. Apparently I had to complete a pilgrimage to seven holy shrines ? all in different parts of Morrowind ? before I could progress any further in the Temple. Given that I'd just joined four different factions in one morning, that sounded like it could take some considerable time.

I walked over the bridge to the east side of the river Odai, where the commoners and the poor people lived. As I crossed the river, I saw a large group of children fishing on the opposite bank ? mostly Dunmer, but also some humans and even a Khajiit. Nice, I thought, to see them all playing together like that.

I finally managed to find the South Wall ? right at the other end of town, surprise, surprise ? and the owner, Bacola Closcius, directed me to Caius Cosades' house. Turned out I'd walked right past it on my way to the club. Sighing, I made my way back up to the north edge of town and found what appeared to be the right house. I knocked cautiously.

The door creaked open and Caius Cosades stood before me. He was in his early sixties, with greying hair and an intelligent-looking face, but what struck me most forcibly was that he was wearing nothing but a grubby pair of pants. I had to fight the urge to avert my eyes, and not just out of feminine modesty. He wasn't in bad shape for a sixty-year-old, but honestly, a half-naked old man was not a sight I wanted to see this early in the morning.

"Uh? Caius Cosades? I mumbled, trying not to look at the hairy chest. Couldn't he at least get dressed properly before opening the door to visitors? And him an Imperial, too. It was a disgrace.

A smile hovered around his lips. "Me? I'm just an old man with a skooma problem."

"Right," I said uncertainly. "Because if you are Caius, I was told to deliver this package to you."

"I see." He took the package out of my hand and scrutinised it closely, then glanced at the letter I'd been given by Sellus Gravius. "Well, you'd better come in."

I entered the tiny, one-room house, wondering just what I'd got myself into. Was this really Caius, or had the Thieves' Guild people pulled a fast one on me and sent me over to the local lunatic?

The interior of the house was messy and not too clean, a little like its owner. Dirty bottles and overturned chairs littered the floor, and a strong smell of skooma pervaded the room. On the other hand, looking around, I saw several books ? with titles like On Morrowind, the Imperial Province and The War of the First Council ? which didn't really fit in with the overall image of dinginess and squalor. Caius ripped open the package I had given him, took out the sheets of paper it contained, and flung the wrapping into a corner of the room.

"Why don't you sit down." He directed me to a bench in the corner. "Just wait here a minute while I look over these instructions you gave me?"

He sat down on the bed and began to read through the papers, nodding occasionally and saying things like "Hmph," and "Mmm." At one point his brow furrowed and I saw his eyes dart back and forth several times, as if he were re-reading a passage to make sure he'd understood it correctly. Finally he flung down the papers with a sigh, looked up at me, and smiled.

"Well, my friend," he said. "It appears that the Emperor wants me to make you a novice in the Blades."

For the second time in three days, I felt as if I had been hit over the head with a large mallet. "What?" I squeaked. "Me, a Blade?"

"Ah, then you've heard of us?" he said, with another smile.

I closed my eyes briefly, wondering if I'd somehow gone completely mad. Of course I'd heard of the Blades; they were the Emperor's personal bodyguard and secret service, the elite of the elite. And now I was being asked to join, just like that?

"I have, yes," I said. "But? look, it can't possibly be me they're talking about. There must be some mistake."

"No, I don't think so. This is the Emperor's seal." He looked closely at me. "You are Ada Ventura, aren't you? Born on the twenty-first of ? "

"Yes, yes," I assured him. "I'm Ada. But? I'm sorry, I just can't get my head around this. Does the Emperor really think I'm Blades material?"

"Apparently so," he said, shrugging. "Wouldn't have thought so, to look at you. But orders are orders."

I would have been insulted, but the truth was that I wouldn't have thought so to look at me either. I was a nobody, and I knew it. So what could possibly have caused the Emperor to take notice of me? I cast my mind back over my past adventures, searching vainly for something that might have marked me out as a candidate for the Blades. I was a reasonably competent fighter, but?

"So does this mean you're a Blade as well?" I gazed in disbelief at the scruffy old man sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of me. At the stained walls, the dirty floor?

Caius's face broke into a sudden grin. "No one would ever suspect it, would they?"

"I see your point," I conceded. But gods, how could he stand to live like this? If he was expecting me to do the same, he could forget it.

Caius stood up. "So, Ada. Are you ready to follow my orders?"

"I? suppose so," I said, still too bewildered to think of refusing. "But ? "

"Good! Welcome to the service, Novice Ada." He grasped my hand and shook it heartily. "Now you belong to the Blades. You can use my bed if you need to rest, but leave my personal stuff alone unless I say otherwise. Now, would you like orders straight away, or would you like to get some skill practice in first?"

Absolutely no way was I sleeping in this guy's bed, with or without him in it. "Um, I guess I could do with some practice," I mumbled. "But I ?"

"Okay, I'll give you a list of the Blades trainers here in town. Now, first thing, pilgrim ? " He reached into a pocket and pulled out some coins. "You're new, and you look it. Here's 200 drakes. Go get yourself some decent weapons and armour, or a spell."

My mouth snapped shut. If he was offering me 200 drakes before I'd even done any work for him, I wasn't about to complain. I'd do whatever tasks he wanted me to do, and later I'd explain my plans to return to Cyrodiil. After all, I could do with the extra money.

"Second thing," he went on, "you'll need a cover identity. Sign on with the Mages' Guild, or the Fighters' Guild, or the Imperial Legion. Or you could even try one of the Dunmer Great Houses, if you're inclined that way."

"Already done," I said proudly. "I've joined the Fighters' Guild, the Mages' Guild, House Hlaalu? and I'm thinking about joining the Legion if I ever get up to Gnisis. Oh, and, er? the Tribunal Temple."

He looked a little surprised. "The Temple? That's an? unusual choice. Why not the Imperial Cult?"

"They asked first," I said with a shrug. "There isn't anything wrong with the Temple, is there?"

"No, not as such ? they're narrow-minded and superstitious, but I admire their concern for the poor. But few outlanders join." He paused. "House Hlaalu, though? they're very open to outsiders. Greedy and ambitious in the best Imperial tradition."

"What are the other Houses like?" I asked, suddenly interested.

"House Redoran are warriors, a very serious and honourable bunch. But the Telvanni? ah." He screwed up his face. "Their nobles are thousand-year-old wizards. Powerful mages, but arrogant and elitist." Just like mages everywhere, then.

I would have asked more, but it was almost midday and I'd promised to speak to Nileno. "Well, I guess I'd better be going," I said, standing up. "Thanks for the money and everything. Er, when shall I come back?"

"When you're ready," he said with a smile. "Take your time; practice your skills, and then come back when you feel ready for orders. No need to rush."

As I turned to leave, I noticed something lying on the floor by the bed: a skooma pipe of good quality, half-filled with liquid. Was he really a skooma addict, I wondered, or was it all just part of his cover story?

I left the house and headed back over the bridge into western Balmora, glad to be able to breathe fresh air again. The skooma vapours in Caius Cosades' house had been so powerful that I was half inclined to think I might have hallucinated the entire conversation, but the 200 drakes he had given me were certainly not a hallucination. I managed to find a clothier's shop where I purchased some reasonable-but-not-too-expensive clothes, then went to the Fighters' Guild smith to buy some armour. Then, decked out in my new outfit, I went back to the Hlaalu council hall in the High Town.

Weel since I finally seen that forgot my pass at in the pass screen. I'm back.

Anyway. I have a really big urge to go abd play morrowind right now to becuase of this . Anyway, I havn't really been interested in any Morrowind fan fic, excpet this one. It's a really good story. Keep it up

Chapter 4: Down To Business

Nileno Dorvayn looked at me with raised eyebrows as I entered the hall. "You've certainly smartened up since I last saw you."

"Came into a bit of money," I said, shrugging. "So, what about this business, then?"

She frowned suddenly. "Wait a minute, Ada. Say that again."

"Er, business? You wanted to discuss? business?" She was staring at me with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What a coincidence!" she exclaimed. "You sound very much like Relmerea Saram, a Redoran who died? recently."

"Redoran," I said uncertainly. "That's the warrior House, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, and our rivals in business. Would you be willing to disguise yourself as Relmerea and get orders from House Redoran, then bring them to me?"

I hesitated. "You want me to impersonate a Redoran spy?"

"That is correct, yes."

Wow, these Hlaalu certainly threw you in at the deep end. I'd been expecting my first assignment to be more along the lines of "deliver these packages for us" or "make the tea".

"Okay," I said cautiously. "I suppose I can do that."

"Good! Take this helm." She handed me a closed helmet made of that same yellowish material that Eydis wore as armour. "Speak with Neminda at the Redoran council in Ald'ruhn, and make sure you're wearing the helmet. When she asks what you want, tell her that you are an 'orphan of Arnesia', and she should give you a coded message to deliver. Bring it to me instead. Got it?"

"Orphan? of? Arnesia," I murmured, scribbling down the instructions in my journal. "All right, that sounds simple enough. But? won't she wonder why I'm wearing a helmet?"

Nileno shook her head. "Relmerea was disfigured in battle, and was known for always wearing her helmet. That's the only reason I'd ask you to try and fool Neminda. She's a Redguard woman, by the way; you can't miss her."

I briefly wondered how Relmerea had died, and how Nileno had acquired the codephrase, before deciding that I probably didn't want to know the answer to either of those questions. Great House politics was clearly a dirtier business than I had imagined.

Rather than take the silt strider to Ald'ruhn, which would have taken several hours, I decided to ask the Mages' Guild guide to teleport me there. I'd never used a Guild guide before (we don't have them in Cyrodiil, for some reason), and I wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

The Balmora guide turned out to be a woman named Masalinie Merian, a Breton (or so I guessed from the name). I paid her a small fee and asked her to transport me to Ald'ruhn. There was a whoosh, a brief sensation of lightness, and suddenly I was standing in front of a completely different mage in a completely different Guild hall ? presumably the Ald'ruhn one. Simple as that.

Why didn't we have anything like that in Cyrodiil, I wondered, as I looked around for the door. This Guild was built in a somewhat different style from the one in Balmora; there were few windows in evidence and it appeared to be mostly sunk into the ground. I'd soon find out why.

I headed up to the top floor and opened the street-level door, only to be hit in the face by a blast of red dust. "Gaaaahh," I choked, slamming it shut again and rubbing my eyes frantically.

One of the mages patted me gently on the back as I coughed and hacked. "Watch out for the Blight storm, outlander. You can catch diseases from that."

Muttering to myself, I pulled on the helmet which Nileno had given me and headed out into the storm.

My first impression of Ald'ruhn was that it was quite possibly the ugliest place I had ever seen. The ash storm and the ominous red sky didn't help, but neither did the crumbling walls and the dry, cracked ground, or the lack of plant life. The buildings were truly bizarre in appearance, resembling nothing less than the giant shells of long-dead creatures dotted around the landscape. When I'd first heard I was coming to Morrowind, this had been the kind of scene I'd pictured.

The guards here all wore full suits of armour and face-concealing helmets ? probably to protect themselves from the frequent storms. It was clear that they didn't have as much contact with outlanders as those in Balmora; they all spoke good Tamrielic, but more formally and with a heavier accent. "Under Skar, outlander," one of them called over his shoulder, when I tried to ask for directions to the Redoran Council.

"Scar?" I said helplessly, but he was already walking off into the storm.

I stumbled around trying to find someone else to help me, but none of the ordinary citizens scurrying around in the storm would stop to talk. Finally I bumped into another guard, who actually deigned to stop and speak to me for a few seconds. "Skar is the shell of the Emperor crab, outlander." He gestured towards a flight of steps to the northwest.

So these buildings really are shells, I thought, as I struggled up the steps against the driving wind. Ingenious, but who in their right mind would found a city in a place like this?

The 'Skar' building was easy enough to spot once I got up the steps; it was a massive shell which utterly dwarfed all the other buildings. I hurried towards it, desperate to get out of the storm. The helmet provided pretty good protection against the wind and dust, but it was hot and uncomfortable and made it difficult to see anything.

It didn't help that the closer I got to the Council hall, the more nervous I was getting about the task I had been asked to perform. By the time I reached the doors to Skar I was sweating profusely, and not just from the exertion. I'd never been half as scared when facing off against bandits or necromancers in some gods-forsaken tomb out in the wilderness. How could anyone possibly have got the idea that I would make a good spy?

Only the sight of the Skar interior was enough to briefly take my mind off my upcoming mission. It was a truly astounding sight: the hollowed-out shell formed a vast chamber, with a huge spike rising up from the centre of the floor. Fanning out from the top of the spike were several wooden walkways, each leading to doors set in the 'wall' of the shell. I stepped onto the first walkway with some trepidation, but it seemed solid enough.

I stopped to adjust my clothing before entering the Redoran council hall, ensuring that not a single inch of bare skin was visible. By this point I was utterly paranoid that something ? my figure, my walk, my outfit ? would tip off Neminda that I wasn't the real Relmerea, and get me thrown straight into a Redoran jail. Or would the guards just kill me on the spot?

I took a deep breath to calm myself before entering the Council hall. To my surprise, I was immediately struck by the beauty of my surroundings: the walls, ceiling and pillars were intricately patterned and hung with tapestries, while rich woven rugs adorned the floor. Balmora might be prettier on the outside, but Ald'ruhn definitely had the edge in terms of interior d?cor.

Neminda wasn't difficult to spot; she was the only Redguard woman in the place. In fact, she was the only human in the place, and the only one I'd seen since arriving in Ald'ruhn (unless you counted the Bretons in the Mages' Guild).

When I approached, she gave me such a warm and friendly smile that I felt my insides twist with guilt. "Hi there, what can I do for you?"

I lowered my voice slightly, doing my best to sound at least somewhat like a Dark Elf. "I am an Orphan of Arnesia."

"Oh, certainly, Relmerea," she said instantly, fishing out a scroll and handing it to me. "Here are your orders ? they're in code, of course. Deliver them to Maar Gan as usual."

"Thanks," I mumbled, not wanting to say any more than I absolutely had to.

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Are you okay, Relmerea? You sound a little strange."

"Fine," I croaked. "Er? got a cold."

"Oh, I am sorry," she said sympathetically. "Well, I hope you feel better soon. Goodbye now."

"Goodbye," I murmured and left quickly, now feeling like the worst person in the world. I really wasn't cut out for this sort of work.

I tried to look calm and nonchalant as I walked back to the Guild, but in truth I was expecting to hear shouts and running feet behind me at any moment. In my paranoia I imagined that every guard was looking at me suspiciously ? and to make matters worse, I suddenly realised what looked so familiar about that material they wore as armour. It was bone.

It was at this point that I very nearly panicked and broke into a run. In the event it's probably a good thing I didn't, as it would undoubtedly have aroused suspicion. Nevertheless, I didn't feel at ease again until I was safely back in the Balmora Mages' Guild, and not completely safe until I was back in the Council Manor and handing the coded orders over to Nileno Dorvayn.

She took a quick look at them and nodded. "Yes, this is exactly what I wanted. Good work, Ada ? keep the helm, and take these 500 drakes for a job well done."

I gaped at her. 500 drakes for my first job? But she was handing me a real purse filled with real money.

"Would you like further orders?" she asked, oblivious to my astonishment.

For 500 septims a throw, the answer to that was 'hell yes'. Just as long as she didn't ask me to do any more spying.

"Very well," she said, when I shrugged and nodded. "I need someone to visit an apothecary in Vivec and... acquire certain alchemical formulas. Go to the shop of Aurane Frernis, find some of her notes or formulas, and bring them back to me."

I blinked. "You want me to steal them?"

"I want you to? acquire them."

"By any means necessary?"

"Yes," she said calmly. "Barring violence, of course."

I hesitated. Even for five hundred septims, I wasn't comfortable with the idea of stealing anything. But maybe there was another way?

"All right," I said at last. "I'll do my best."

I decided not to keep the helm, even though Nileno had said I could have it. Okay, so presumably it was made of animal bones rather than humanoid ones, but the idea of wearing bone as armour just creeped me out. (A bit strange, since I have no problem wearing leather, but there you go.)

After stopping for a bite to eat, I paid another visit to the smith before heading to Vivec. Five hundred drakes would allow me to buy good-quality steel armour rather than the crappy iron stuff I was wearing now. It felt a bit strange to be exchanging armour I'd only bought earlier that day and hadn't even used, but at least it allowed me to get a better price for it.

Luckily there was a Guild guide in Vivec as well, so the journey there took seconds as opposed to the day or so it would have taken by silt strider. In the Vivec Mages' Guild I passed an elderly Imperial man who nodded absent-mindedly to me; I would later discover that this was Trebonius Artorius, the head of the Guild.

Emerging from the guild, I found myself at one end of a huge plaza ? not open to the elements, as I had expected, but completely covered over with a high domed roof. Several buildings, mostly guilds and shops, were set in a row on either side of a wide central walkway. At either end of the plaza was a huge set of double doors, presumably leading outside.

"Submit to the Three, the Spirits and thy Lords," a voice hissed in my ear, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I whirled round to see the speaker ? a soldier in an impressive-looking uniform of blue and gold. The elaborate golden helmet he wore covered his entire head, and had a sinister-looking face painted onto it; the effect was distinctly unnerving.

"Don't do that!" I gasped, my fear quickly turning to annoyance. "You made me jump! Who are you, anyway?"

"We are the Ordinators," he hissed. "The holy guards and soldiers of the Temple."

"So," I said carefully, "you're some kind of religious? police?"

He nodded, and I could almost see the unpleasant smile behind his helmet. "Go about your business, citizen. But remember? we're watching you."

I was just going to love Vivec, I could tell.

As I headed for the nearest set of doors, a Redguard man standing nearby shoved a leaflet into my hands. "Take this, friend! It has important information."

I nodded politely and was about to stuff it into my pack for later, when I spotted the name 'Aurane Frernis' written in large capital letters. Surprised by the coincidence, I paused to look over the leaflet, which read as follows:

BEWARE!!!!

HAVE NO DEALINGS with AURANE FRERNIS!!!
She is known to be both UNDERHANDED and UNETHICAL in her dealings!!!
The materials she uses are both SHODDY and DANGEROUS!!!
You could come to GREAT HARM from her products.
Her shop should be AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS!!!

See these testimonials:
"I took potion and got sick. Lost good lunch." - Grugbob G.
"Her materials looked old and stale. Not good for alchemical use." - Daren O.
"She should be disembowelled and fed to nix hounds." - Hlorngar F.

I stared at the leaflet and then at the Redguard, an idea beginning to form in my mind. "Where can I find this Aurane Frernis?"

"She's in the Lower Waistworks," he told me. "Just go out through those doors, then back through one of the smaller doors to the left or right, and down the stairs in the centre. But I wouldn't buy anything from her."

Out in the open air, I found myself standing on a walled balcony several stories above the ground ? or rather, above the water. Looking down, I could see that Vivec had no streets as such, only a series of canols. Through a haze of fog I could dimly perceive several massive square buildings, similar to the one I was standing on, but there didn't seem to be any way to reach them apart from a single bridge far below. It seemed a terribly impractical way to design a city.

My opinion wasn't improved when I entered the 'waistworks', a series of twisty passages and winding staircases that seemed deliberately designed to get people lost. The narrow passageways and low ceilings, combined with the lack of windows, quickly brought on a feeling of mild claustrophobia. I'd only been in this place five minutes and already I hated it.

At last, more by luck than anything else, I stumbled across a sign saying 'Aurane Frernis: Apothecary'. Inside the shop I laid the ground by purchasing a few random potions, including some I'd never heard of before ? what was a 'Potion of Rising Force', for example? I'd no idea, but I spent an amusing couple of minutes trying to imagine.

"By the way," I said casually, as I handed Aurane her payment. "Did you know that someone up in the plaza is handing out leaflets about you?"

I showed her the leaflet, and her face turned white with shock. "What's this? This is ridiculous! It's all lies!" She slammed the leaflet down on the counter. "I tell you what, Ada ? if you can find out who is behind this slander, I'll reward you well!"

"All right," I said casually, trying hard to conceal my glee. This was going exactly as I had hoped. "I'll see what I can do."

Back in the plaza, I marched up to the Redguard and dangled the leaflet in front of his face. "These leaflets are all lies. Why are you doing this?"

He hesitated. "Slander is a crime," I reminded him. "You want me to report this to the Ordinators?"

The man's eyes widened in fear. "No! Listen, friend, times have been tough for me and mine." He wiped his brow. "So when Belan offered me some gold to hand these out for her, I jumped at the chance. Gotta make ends meet, you know?"

"Belan?"

"Garulo Belan," he muttered. "She's an apothecary in the Telvanni canton. She makes the leaflets, I just distribute them."

I couldn't be sure he was telling the truth, but it occurred to me that I could go to the Telvanni canton myself and confront Galuro. I asked a passer-by how to get to the canton. "The quickest way is to take a gondola," he told me. "But be careful if you're going there ? they're known to kidnap people and take them as slaves, or hold them for ransom."

?Okay, maybe I wouldn't go to the Telvanni canton. Not yet, at least.

"I've found out who makes the leaflets," I announced to Aurane on returning. "It's Galuro Belan, in the Telvanni canton."

"Galuro Belan? That fetcher!" Aurane looked furious. "I can't believe she'd do this to me! I'm reporting this to the magistrate. Well, thank you for your help ? here's your payment." She scooped up a handful of coins from her box of change.

"I don't want payment," I said quickly, waving it away. "But as it happens? I was wondering if you could possibly give me the recipe for some of your potions. That wonderful 'Rising Force' potion, for example." I gave her my sweetest smile. "We don't have anything like that in Cyrodiil."

Aurane shook her head. "I am grateful to you, Ada, but I can't reveal my secrets. Other alchemists are constantly trying to steal my formulas." Her eyes narrowed. "Particularly those in House Hlaalu."

Uh-oh. "Hlaalu? Don't be ridiculous," I said, with a nervous laugh. "I'm not a Hlaalu, I'm House? Redoran. Just joined up the other day, in fact."

She looked skeptical. "Really? Who signed you up?"

"Neminda," I said promptly. Aurane still looked uncertain. "Well, never mind," I said, shrugging. "I guess I'll just be going, then. I hope your business prospers, Aurane."

"No, wait! I?" She hesitated. "I suppose you have helped my business. Oh, very well." She scribbled down some notes on a sheet of paper and handed it to me. "Just don't give it to anyone else in House Redoran."

"I certainly won't," I assured her, with perfect truth.

Once again I felt more than a little uncomfortable with myself as I returned to Balmora. I hadn't done anything technically illegal ? yet ? but all this lying and cheating was not really my cup of tea. The Fighter's Guild had a strict code of honour, and I doubted they would approve of what I was doing on the side.

After collecting another 500 gold from Nileno, I decided not to accept any more 'business' from House Hlaalu for the moment. Besides, it was getting late. I chose to stay at the Fighters' Guild that night, as it was free (the Mages' Guild would have done as well, but somehow I felt more comfortable among fellow warriors). Caius Cosades' house was not even worth considering.

The next morning, after breakfast, I decided it was time to do some jobs for the Guild. I went to see Eydis Fire-Eye and asked if she had any duties for me.

"Well, I have a very simple contract to end an infestation of cave rats." She winked at me. "You might be able to handle it."

Ah yes, the traditional 'rat-catching' assignment given to new recruits. I remembered that all too well from my early days in the Guild. I agreed to the job, but I had to struggle to conceal my humiliation; it was a little like being sent back to the nursery class with the children who couldn't read.

The client, a woman named Drarayne Thelas, lived in a small house on the east side of the river. "Are you Fighters' Guild?" she snapped, the minute she saw me on her doorstep. "Well, it's about time!"

I'd met with this attitude plenty of times before, so I just smiled politely. "Ada Ventura at your service, ma'am ? er, sera. I'm here about the cave rats?"

She nodded. "These rats are such a nuisance! I'm worried they'll eat all of my pillows. You like pillows, don't you, Ada?"

"Er? yes," I said. "Very much."

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed, clearly delighted to have found another pillow enthusiast. "Anyway, I've got one trapped in my bedroom here, and the other two are in my storage area upstairs. Rats, that is... not pillows." She handed me a small key. "Here's the key for that door. Oh, I do hope they haven't gotten into my good pillows..."

I tackled the rat in the bedroom first, before moving onto the storeroom upstairs. She certainly did have quite an impressive collection of pillows, I had to admit. Some had been scattered around a bit, but luckily none of them seemed to have come to any serious harm.

"Good news, Drarayne," I announced, returning to the ground floor. "All targets neutralised; the pillows are safe."

"Safe? Oh, thank you, Ada!" For a moment I half-expected to get a pillow as a reward, but instead she handed me some money. "Here, take these 100 septims. It's what I agreed to pay the Guild."

I thanked her and left the house, shaking my head. At least with Operation Pillow Protection I'd proved I could handle a sword without dropping it or cutting myself; maybe I could get a real job next time.

Eydis agreed, and promoted me to the rank of Apprentice. "Okay, want more orders? I need someone to return a codebook that belongs to our client."

"Who has it?"

"A woman named Sottilde." I was just trying to think where I'd heard the name before, when she added, "You can find her at the South Wall here in Balmora."

Ah yes, I remembered Sottilde: she was the first person I'd spoken to when I'd entered the cornerclub the day before. She was a Nord, and since she hung out at South Wall, that presumably meant she was Thieves' Guild. This could be slightly tricky.

In the event, however, Sottilde proved to be a bit of a pushover. The minute I mentioned the codebook to her, she stiffened and became visibly nervous. "What codebook?"

I didn't want to resort to threats immediately, since as far as I knew she'd done nothing wrong (apart from being a thief, of course). Instead, I offered her some coins. "Look, here's fifty septims. Now just hand over the codebook and we can forget this ever happened, all right?"

"Eydis sent you, did she?" She sighed. "Okay, I have the codebook. But I want more than that for it."

I looked at her through narrowed eyes. "I just gave you fifty, how much more do you want?"

"It's valuable. Two hundred drakes."

"Two hundred? You're joking." I took a step towards her. "Fifty is all you're getting. Don't make me get nasty about this."

It felt a bit strange to be threatening someone who stood half a head taller than me, but I'd learned long ago that you could get away with all sorts if you looked like you meant it. Sottilde hesitated for a moment, doing her best to look defiant, but quickly abandoned the attempt.

"Oh, all right," she muttered. "I don't want any trouble with you, so take it. Just don't tell anyone I gave it to you."

I thanked her politely and made to leave the building. Just as I reached the door, she called after me: "Oh, outlander?"

I looked back over my shoulder, my hand on the doorknob. "What is it?"

"If you've just joined the Fighters' Guild, watch out for yourself." She folded her arms. "There's lot more going on there than you know about."

"Such as?"

She gave me a tight little smile. "You'll find out soon enough."

I went back to the Guild hall, wondering what she meant, and what the Thieves' Guild had wanted with the codebook in the first place. I did sneak a quick look at it, but it was all gibberish.

Eydis seemed pleased to receive the book, praising my 'obedience' and 'efficiency' and promoting me to the rank of Journeyman. She also paid me a grand total of fifty septims, perfectly balancing out the fifty I'd given Sottilde for the codebook. It was a good thing I was actually making money on the jobs I'd done for House Hlaalu.

Since I had plenty of spare cash for now, I decided that it was time I went and got some training. Rescuing defenceless pillows and purloining people's alchemical formulas might be fun, but it wasn't going to get me in shape for whatever Caius had in store for me. Not that I particularly wanted to do any missions for him, but getting dragged off and jailed for treason was something I wanted even less.

In the afternoon I looked up one of the Blades trainers in Balmora, a Redguard warrior named Rithleen, and asked for tuition in swordfighting and blocking techniques. The first time we fought she beat me soundly, so we tried a second time and she beat me again. And a third time. By the end of the day I was exhausted, but at least I was starting to recover some of the technique I'd lost during my year in jail.

"You're not bad," she told me approvingly, following what seemed to me like yet another humiliating defeat. "You just need to keep up the practice."

After another day of training, I decided I was just about ready to handle a mission from Caius ? it couldn't be that difficult to start with, after all. So I went over to his house bright and early the next morning.

Caius looked pleased to see me back so soon. His house was exactly as I remembered it ? messy, grubby and reeking of skooma fumes ? and so was he. He still wasn't wearing a shirt; in fact, I was sorely tempted to offer to go out and buy one for him. I actually found myself wondering how I could introduce the subject without causing offence: "You know, I think you'd look really nice in yellow?"

"So, Ada, back already?" he asked, looking pleased. "Are you ready for orders now?"

I shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Good. Now," he leaned forward, "I want you to talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the Balmora Fighters Guild. Ask him what he knows about the secret cults of the Sixth House and the Nerevarine."

I took out my journal so I could make some notes. "What was that word? The? Neveragaine?"

"Nerevarine."

"?Neverarine?"

"Ne-re-var-ine."

"Ne-re-var-ine," I repeated, feeling like an idiot. "What is a? Nerevarine?"

"Not what," he corrected me, "but who. Some Dunmer believe that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, will one day unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. They call this orphan and outcast the 'Nerevarine', and say the Nerevarine will be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councillor, Lord Indoril Nerevar."

I was struggling to keep up. "Okay. And there's some sort of cult around this Nerevarine guy? You think they're a threat to the Empire?"

"I'm not sure? yet." His expression was serious. "I don't know much about it; that's why I'm sending you to find out."

"All right. And the Sixth House? I thought there were only three?"

Caius shook his head. "No, there are two more ? Indoril and Dres. But they have no holdings on Vvardenfell."

"So what is the Sixth House, then?"

"A trusted informant says they're a secret cult associated with some strange events recently," he explained. "And that these are related in some way to the Nerevarine Prophecies. But Hasphat will be able to tell you more."

I'd seen Hasphat a few times at the Guild, where he was a drillmaster, but not yet had occasion to speak to him. He was a very ordinary-looking middle-aged Imperial, not someone I'd thought would be involved with the Blades ? but then, it seemed that half of Balmora was mixed up with them in some way. You could barely turn around in that place without bumping into a member of the Emperor's super-secret intelligence service. How they managed to maintain their cover was beyond me; I was beginning to wonder if the entire town was in on the secret.

"You'll have to do him a favour first," Caius warned me. "Probably an ugly favour. But do it, then get the information and report back to me."

I went over to the Guild, where Hasphat was training down in the basemant ? alone, luckily enough. "Mr Antabolis?" I said, when he broke off to greet me. "I'm Ada Ventura. Caius Cosades sent me to you."

"Ah." He looked at me with an expression of faint amusemant. "So you're the latest hero, are you?"

Seeing the confusion in my face, he motioned me to sit down on one of the benches. "Caius says he's fed up with heroes," he said, sitting down beside me and resting his hands on his knees. "The Empire keeps sending them out here to the provinces to 'civilise' things. The fools don't seem to realize that their 'destinies' are being created by historical processes."

"What do you mean?"

"Caius and I always argue over the role of the individual in history. Tiber Septim, for instance." He paused. "I say Tiber Septim changed the world. Caius says he was a product of his time, and if he hadn't lived, some other person would have served his function. What do you think?"

I'd never really thought about it at all, to be honest. "I don't know," I admitted. "And in all honesty, I don't really care. What's the point of arguing about something that happened centuries ago?"

His eyes twinkled. "And you? Are you going to change the world, do you think?"

"Not if I can help it," I said bluntly. "Right now, all I want to do is find a way to get back to Cyrodiil as soon as possible. But don't tell Caius that."

"Poor Caius," he said, with a faint smile. "So many disappointments. Anyway, how can I help you?"

I explained to him that I needed to know about the Sixth House and Nerevarine cults, and he nodded. "Yes, I've heard of the Sixth House. But before I tell you anything, I need you to do a favour for me."

Oh, big surprise. "Which is?"

"Have you ever been in a Dwemer ruin?" he asked.

I'd heard many fantastic tales of Dwarven ruins in Morrowind, filled with strange contraptions and ancient machinery, but I'd hardly even believed them ? let alone had the chance to visit them myself. "No, never."

"Well, there are Dwemer ruins nearby called Arkngthand. I need you to run over there and find me a Dwemer puzzle box. It's a little cube, about the size of a fist, with a circular design and some symbols on one side."

I stared at him. "What do you want with something like that?"

"That," he said, tapping his nose, "is my business".

Sighing, I noted the details down in my journal and then stood up. "Could you just explain one thing to me, Hasphat?"

"Go on."

"You must be a more experienced fighter than I am," I said. "So why do you want me to get this box for you?"

"Because," he said calmly, "I have the information you want, so you have no choice."

He just grinned at the dirty look I gave him.

Before I go on, here are a few screenshots of Ada which I've already posted in the 'Charater Screenshots' thread in the Mods forum:

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/ada1a.jpg

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/ada2.jpg

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/ada3.jpg

And now, on with the next chapter.

------

Chapter 5: It's Off To Work We Go

I wasn't in the best of moods as I set off from Balmora, following the directions I'd been given to Arkngt? okay, I wasn't even going to try to pronounce that name. I was still a bit pissed off that Hasphat expected me to fetch him this Dwemer box thing, which he was apparently too lazy to get for himself, in return for telling me a few stupid Dunmer legends. Since he hadn't gone himself yet, presumably that meant the place was infested with bandits or spiders or huge mutated bunny-rabbits or something. Still, at least it meant I'd get in some sword practice.

The weather was bright and sunny, but not too hot ? one of the few things about Morrowind that I actually preferred to my home country. Summer was drawing to a close, but in Cyrodiil it would still be baking hot this time of year. I remembered the long hours I'd spent in my stuffy jail cell, longing for fresh air, and then longing for shade whenever they let us out to work or exercise.

As I crossed the last of a long series of bridges over the Odai river, I saw a large stone building looming up in the distance ? Fort Moonmoth, the local headquarters of the Imperial Legion. It was built in the classic Imperial style, and looked weirdly out of place in the alien surroundings; a little piece of Cyrodiil here in Morrowind. I paused to look at it for a few seconds, and felt a brief pang of homesickness.

The road leading north sloped gently upwards. I followed it until I came to a sign pointing towards 'Molag Mar'; then, as I'd been instructed, turned onto a dirt track leading north-east. I had to admit that I was a little curious now to see this Dwemer ruin ? I vaguely remembered hearing that they constructed entire fortresses out of iron and steel. Though I could have been mistaken, as I'd never really paid that much attention to my history tutors.

"The Dwarves were a fascinating people, Ada," they would tell me. "Amazing scholars and craftsmen. They weren't really dwarves, of course, just another Elven race ? they only got that name because?"

"Quite," I would agree, while my mind drifted off to happy thoughts of ancient Ayleid ruins and treasure chests and shiny, shiny swords.

My first glimpse of real-life Dwemer architecture came in the form of a bridge over a wide canyon, edged with thick metal pipes. Coming closer, I could see that they were indeed made of iron ? amazing that it hadn't rusted away completely after all these years. There was some kind of writing carved into the railings, but as it was all in Dwemeris I had no idea what it meant. For all I knew it was saying, "Caution: Serious structural faults have been found in this bridge. Cross at your own risk."

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted something in the distance, at the other end of the bridge: a male human standing beside a pile of crates. I froze. Friend, or foe?

I got my answer a few seconds later when he spotted me ? and began running towards me with a distinctly non-friendly gait. I drew my sword quickly and shifted into a fighting stance, only for him suddenly stop about twenty feet away and cast a summoning spell. Oh crap, a mage! I wasn't prepared for this!

Slightly panicked, I backed away a few steps as the bonewalker summoned by the mage headed straight for me. A blast of shock magicka struck the ground right by my feet, and I leapt aside, trying to get closer to the guy without getting hit by a spell. I knew from experience that it was best just to ignore the bonewalker; it would disappear when the caster died, and if I killed it he'd just summon another one.

The next blast of magicka hit me dead on, and for a second I felt as if I was being roasted alive. Honestly, you haven't experienced true agony until you've been hit by a shock bolt. I gasped in pain and stumbled to the side, just as the bonewalker's axe slashed down on the spot where my head had been half a second ago.

One chance. I knocked the bonewalker back with my shield, then raised my arm and gasped out a fire spell as my opponent prepared to cast another shock bolt. Amazingly, it worked. This time it was the mage's turn to roar in pain as I rushed straight at him and smashed the flat of my sword down on his head. I spun round, just about managed to parry another blow from the bonewalker, then summoned all my strength to deal the caster a final vicious blow.

The mage toppled and fell. The bonewalker vanished. I lowered my sword and stepped backwards, gasping for breath.

What was a bloody battlemage doing out here in the middle of nowhere? I groped in my pack for a healing potion and swigged it down, grimacing as I felt the burning sensation gradually fade away. Talos, I had to pick up some kind of magickguard spell before my next mission.

I searched the man's body ? he was a Cyrodiil, from the looks of him ? but didn't find anything to indicate why he'd been standing in the middle of a bridge waiting to attack hapless travellers. He didn't look like a mage, I thought resentfully, observing his simple clothing and heavy iron cuirass. There ought to be some kind of rule.

I scanned the horizon carefully while crossing the bridge, wary of further attacks. The place seemed deserted, but the winding path up ahead looked like the perfect place for an ambush. The place was almost eerily silent; the only sound to be heard was the piercing shriek of birds in the distance, which didn't exactly reassure me.

Still, no further assailants appeared as I made my way up the steep track towards Arkngthand. The fortress wasn't what I had expected; at first sight it appeared to be built into the rocky hill, as if it had been swallowed up by a landslide. Only a few strangely-shaped towers poking out of the ground suggested that this was a building, as opposed to a cave. Where the door ought to have been was just a hemispherical bulge, like half of a giant stone ball.

Approaching the 'door', I could see a long, thin crack in the stone surface ? clearly the two halves of the sphere could be slid apart if you knew how. I poked at it and tried to slide the blade of my sword into the gap, but absolutely nothing happened. Sighing, I turned around to look for clues, wishing I had done some research on Dwemer architecture before coming up here.

A little way down the hill was another of those metal pipes with Dwemer writing on it, and looking closely I could see some kind of crank handle attached to the pipe. With nothing to lose, I turned the handle, and heard the creaking of machinery in the distance. The two halves of the stone sphere slid apart and around, revealing a small circular platform.

As I stood and watched for a few seconds, the sphere closed up again. I turned the handle once more and ran towards the platform, cursing the Dwemer for their bizarre architectural quirks. What was the point of a door like that?

The outer doors closed up behind me to reveal another door, this one made of metal and covered with lettering and images. It swung open at my first touch, and I entered the fortress.

I found myself at the top of a massive underground cavern, with a stone ramp leading down and around the walls to the ground far below. Most of the light came from torches, a clear sign that the place was inhabited, but the lamp above the door I'd just come through was the strangest I'd ever seen. It was a kind of glass tube bracketed to the wall, and inside it was some kind of glowing? thread? Wire? It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen in the Ayleid ruins in Cyrodiil.

I took a few cautious steps onto the next section of ramp and felt it shift slightly, producing a loud whirring noise. Instantly I heard shouts from down below and saw a couple of men ? both human, by the look of them ? draw their daggers. I watched in astonishment as they ran out from cover and up the ramp towards me, possibly the stupidest move I had seen in my entire career as a fighter. Clearly they were either very inexperienced or extremely dumb.

This time I was ready for them, and fighting them off was ludicrously easy. I simply knocked the first one back with my sword as he approached, sending him skitting into the second man just behind him. After that it was an easy matter to deal with them before they could even begin to untangle themselves.

I made my way down to the ground below, then up another ramp onto a platform made of studded metal. Somewhere further into the fortress I could hear loud creaking sounds, apparently from some kind of machinery. How could it possibly still be working after so many centuries, millennia even? There had to be some type of magic involved.

This part of the cavern seemed to be used as a home base by the inhabitants, but the only furniture of note was an old cabinet. I searched through the drawers and bottom cupboard, but found them frustratingly empty of Dwemer puzzle boxes. What I did find was a couple of very ancient-looking coins, probably of Dwemer origin, and a rusty metal cog. I decided to take the coins with me ? if they were ancient and rare, they might well be worth quite a bit.

At the left side of the room was a round iron door with another of those strange lamps above it. I put my ear to it and listened for sounds of life, but couldn't hear anything over the groaning of the Dwemer machinery. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The first thing I saw on entering the room beyond was a large and mean-looking man wearing a rusty cuirass. "What the??" he began, then his eyes fell on my blood-covered sword and he seized up a heavy axe lying beside him.

There are times when it's actually an advantage to be smaller, lighter and more agile than your opponent. As the man rushed at me I froze in mock terror, then leapt to the side just as he swung the axe. It crashed into the wall just inches from my head, and I darted out and around him before he could raise it for another blow, skewering him through the chest from behind.

"If you'd just stopped to talk, maybe we could have sorted this out peacefully," I snarled as he collapsed to his knees, groaning.

This chamber was small, low-roofed and filled with old crates and rickety-looking shelves. A hiss of steam escaped from a crack in the pipe that ran through the centre of the room. The creaking sounds were a lot louder here, to the point where I could hardly hear myself think. Luckily I spotted what I was looking for almost immediately ? a small cube, engraved with glowing runes, just sitting there on one of the shelves.

There was nothing else of interest in the room apart from a few more of those Dwemer coins. I briefly considered exploring the rest of the fortress, but as I wasn't being paid to cleanse it of bandits or outlaws or whoever these idiots were, I decided not to bother. Despite what you might think, I don't actually enjoy killing people ? even in the Fighters' Guild, most jobs involve things like escort duty rather than actual fighting. (Doesn't stop snotty mage-types from portraying us as bloodthirsty thugs, of course.)

By the time I got back to Fort Moonmoth, it was well past noon and I was very hungry. I wondered if I might be able to get some supplies at the Fort; it couldn't hurt to try, at least.

The soldiers patrolling the courtyard nodded to me as I passed, and a few of them greeted me as an 'Imperial sister'. The inside of the fort was instantly recognisable to any Cyrodiil, with its typically Imperial construction and wall hangings showing the dragon, the symbol of the Empire. It felt almost like home.

Some traders had set up stalls in the main hall. I approached a Nord wearing Templar armour, who seemed to be in charge of the fort, and asked whether he knew of anyone who might be willing to buy Dwemer coins from me. "I found them in the Dwemer ruins up on the hill," I explained. "I'm sure they must be worth quite a bit."

He gave me an odd look. "They certainly are," he said slowly, "if you don't mind being arrested for smuggling. Don't you know that trading in Dwemer artefacts is illegal?"

"What?!"

"Figured you hadn't heard." He shook his head, chuckling. "Trying to sell contraband Dwemer artefacts in an Imperial fortress? Well, I never."

Burning with embarrassment, I deposited my haul of coins with the much-amused guard and went off to search for food. I approached an Imperial trader selling a variety of goods, and immediately wished I hadn't when he greeted me with, "Welcome! May I tell you about the Imperial Cult?"

"Actually I'm a member of the Temple," I said hurriedly, glad to have a real excuse for once. (In Cyrodiil I'd have responded with, "No, I worship Malacath," or "I serve the Night Mother. Praise the Unholy Matron!")

He looked shocked. "But you are Imperial! You follow the Nine, surely?"

"Well, yeeesss," I admitted. "I do pray to them now and again. But ? "

"Then why should you not join the Cult as well?"

I stared at him. "You can join both? Isn't that kind of? cheating?"

"The Nine will not judge you for it," he said calmly. Actually, that was probably true; the Nine are almost ridiculously liberal by divine standards. If you're a Daedra-worshipper and betray your patron god, heaven help you.

"Uh? maybe some other time," I said, not keen on joining yet another faction who'd expect me to perform tasks for them. The man's demeanour grew noticeably colder, and I'm positive he decided to raise his prices right then and there. Still, I wasn't buying much, so it didn't matter.

I ate my food in the courtyard and then set off for Balmora, now very much in need of a rest and even more in need of a bath. Honestly, I don't know how anyone can stand actually living in a place like Arkngthand. I'd make the worst bandit ever; after a week or two I'd be so fed up of the living conditions that I'd probably turn myself in out of sheer desperation.

"Here we are, Hasphat" I announced as I returned to the basemant of the Fighters' Guild. "Your Dwemer puzzle box."

He put a finger to his lips. "Not so loud, my friend. Don't you know it's illegal to trade in Dwemer artefacts?"

"I do now," I said. "I tried to sell some at Fort Moonmoth. I wish you'd told me that a little earlier."

Hasphat ignored me, too busy examining the box. "Hmm? the inscriptions on the box seem to be the directions for setting a Dwemer key to open a specific lock. If you're interested, after you've delivered your report to Caius, come back, and maybe I'll have a key you can take back to Arkngthand."

Why the heck he thought I would want to go back to Arkngthand was beyond me. "Okay? thanks. Er, can I have the report now?"

"Here are the notes for Caius. And I've given you some Sixth House references he should read." He handed me a sheet of paper with a list of books, above which was a single paragraph:

House Dagoth is an extinct Great House. In the wake of the ancient Battle of Red Mountain, its leadership was revealed to have plotted treason, and was discredited. Many of House Dagoth died defending the House; those survivors who were faithful to the Great Council were redistributed among the other houses. The Temple says the ancient, legendary evil beings that dwell beneath Red Mountain in the Dagoth Ur region are the original leaders of this extinct house, sustained by some powerful, evil sorceries.

I flung down the paper in disbelief. "Four lines? That's all? I could have got all that just from reading a history book!"

"Then I suggest you do so," he said with a wink. "Try the bookseller Dorisa Darvel in the Commercial District."

I glowered wordlessly at him, unable to believe that I'd trekked all the way out to Arkngthand when I could have just walked down the road to the bookseller's. "You bastard. All right, what about the Sixth House Cult?"

"I've heard something about a cult worshipping Dagoth Ur," he said. "That's the leader of the extinct House Dagoth. They plan to overthrow the Temple and drive the Empire from Morrowind? and I've heard they also smuggle goods, or hire smugglers, or something like that."

I wrote all this down. "And the Nev? uh, Nerevarine?"

"Well, Nerevar was the general who led the other Great Houses in battle against the Dwemer. The Ashlanders ? the native tribes of Vvardenfell ? believe that a reborn Nerevar, the 'Nerevarine', will unite the Dunmer against the outlander invaders. But the Temple denies the prophecy, and persecutes those who believe in it."

"So do you know anything about this Nerevarine cult?"

He shook his head. "Not a lot. Tell Caius that Sharn gra-Muzgob would be a better person to ask."

My ears pricked up; that name sounded Orcish. "All right," I said, getting to my feet. "Thanks, Hasphat." For nothing. Honestly, I doubted he'd told me anything that wasn't fairly common knowledge.

I took Hasphat's notes along with the ones I'd written myself, and returned to Caius Cosades. I did not visit the bookseller first; there was no way I was going to buy all those books for Caius. If he wanted them, he could damn well get them himself.

"Here are your notes," I told him, handing them over. "They're a bit? brief."

He glanced at the papers and nodded, his expression unreadable. "Very well. Thank you, Ada."

"There's one thing I don't get," I said slowly. "If this 'Dagoth Ur' betrayed Morrowind to foreign invaders? why would he be worshipped by people who want to drive out foreign invaders?"

"A good question," he acknowledged. "I think we may need to investigate this further. But right now we need more information about the Nerevarine cult."

"Hasphat mentioned Sharn gra-Muzgob."

He nodded. "Ah yes, you'll find her at the Mages Guild. Very smart? for an Orc. She's always worried that the Temple will bust in and stick her in a fire, and with good reason."

"Why?" I asked, astonished. "Do they hate Orcs so much?"

"No. Well, yes, but no more than they hate most other outlanders." He shook his head. "But Sharn has a somewhat unhealthy interest in? well, you'll see."

Now that he'd mentioned it, I did remember seeing a female Orc wandering around the Mages' Guild. She stuck out like a sore thumb in a place dominated by Elves, Bretons and Argonians. I had to confess to being a little surprised to see her there; the Orcs aren't exactly known for their love of scholarship. Still, nice to see someone defying the stereotype.

After dinner and a bath, I went to the Mages' Guild to see if I could catch a few minutes with Sharn. She was in a secluded area of the Guild, filled with bookcases and alchemical equipment, but she looked very busy. I decided to buy some spells first and come back to her later.

"Do you have any magick shield spells? I asked Estirdalin, a haughty-looking Altmer (honestly, the phrase 'haughty-looking Altmer' is a bit redundant).

She shook her head. "Try Marayn Dren; he handles Alteration."

Marayn Dren, a Dunmer mage, was a bit more helpful. "Yes, I have shield spells. Would you like to guard against fire, frost, shock, poison or other magickal attacks?"

"Um? all those things?"

He shook his head. "Only one type of shield can be cast at a time. You could enchant an item with all those effects, but it would be expensive."

Gods, why did they have to make everything so complicated? This is why I've always hated magic so much. Why can't anyone come up with a simple all-in-one magickguard spell, as opposed to five separate ones? Why do I have to learn one spell to cure myself of a common disease, but a different spell to cure someone else of exactly the same disease? And come to that, why do they have to give all of them stupid names like 'So-and-so's Gift', rather than something descriptive like 'Thirty-second Light spell' or 'Summon Useless Daedra'?

I decided to forget about shield spells for the moment, and instead purchased a spell called 'Ondusi's Open Door' which Dren assured me would open around half of all locks. That was, if I could ever manage to cast it in the first place. (Let's just say that Alteration was never my strongest subject.)

Afterwards I went back to Sharn, hoping she might have time to speak to me. Unfortunately, she didn't seem too pleased to see me: no sooner had I begun to speak than she broke in with: "I cannot think with all these interruptions! Please leave me alone!"

"Look, I'm sorry to bother you but it's quite important," I said testily, my own patience wearing thin by this point. "Caius Cosades sent me here to ask you some questions."

Instantly her expression changed. "Oh, you're one of Caius's associates? Well, why didn't you say so? That is a different matter, of course."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. "I need you to tell me about the Nerevarine cult."

"Well, I'm sure we can come to an? arrangement," she said. "But first I need you to do an errand for me. Bring me the skull of Llevule Andrano from the Andrano ancestral tomb."

"Oh, not you as well!" I threw up my hands in disgust. "What am I, a bloody courier service? What's so special about this Llevule Andrano, anyway?"

She shrugged. "He was no one special. A journeyman enchanter. But I need his skull for my? research."

I shot her a suspicious glance. "You're not a necromancer, are you?"

"No!" she retorted, rather too quickly and vehemently. "I told you, I simply need it for research purposes."

"Research into? necromancy?"

"NO!" She glared at me. "And don't say that so loud! Just go and bring me the skull, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

Great. Spying, extortion and now grave-robbing. By the time I got out of Morrowind, I'd probably have progressed to drowning kittens and stealing money from charity-boxes.

"Oh, all right, if you insist." I heaved a sigh. "But you'll have to wait a while. I have important business for? House Hlaalu." I didn't, but I soon would.

"Well, take this old sword," she said, handing me a shortsword with a fire enchantment on it. "Some of those ghosts are immune to normal weapons. And these scrolls might come in handy? here, let me write you down some directions. Good luck now."

I stored all my gear in a chest in the Fighters' Guild and went to the Council hall, which luckily was still open. "Ah, you're back!" Nileno Dorvayn exclaimed, the minute she saw me. "Are you here about business? Because I have the perfect task for you: Guar hides!"

"Guar hides?" I wasn't even sure what a guar was.

"That's right," she said briskly. "House Redoran sells more guar hides than House Hlaalu. Someone needs to convince the alchemists in Vivec to buy only imported Hlaalu hides."

I stared blankly at her. "But? I don't know anything about guar hides."

"Then make something up," she snapped. "You're an Imperial, aren't you? Flattery and deceit ought to come to you as easily as breathing."

I decided to ignore this disgraceful slur against my race (not least because it's largely true) and just focus on the payoff. "Okay, I'll try," I said, suppressing a sigh. "Which alchemists, anyway? I can't go back to Aurane Frernis ? I told her I was a Redoran."

She sighed, in a 'do I have to explain everything' kind of way. "Well, we'll start with Rolasa Oren. Go to Vivec and convince her to buy imported House Hlaalu guar hides instead of local House Redoran hides."

"But surely imported ones will be more expensive?"

"Of course," she said, shrugging. "You will just have to be very persuasive."

I'd had a long day, and at this moment I was sorely tempted to tell her exactly where she could stick her stupid guar hides. It was a good thing these people were paying me well, I can tell you that.

It was getting fairly late by the time I left the manor, so I stopped by the Eight Plates tavern for dinner. Following that, I went over to the Mages' Guild and badgered one of the alchemists into telling me everything she knew about guar hides. By the end of the evening I knew far more about the bloody things than I or anyone else could possibly want, and I still wasn't particularly confident in my ability to convince Rolasa Oren.

It was too late to do anything else that night, so I'd have to leave this particular piece of 'business' for the next morning. Not that I was exactly looking forward to it in any case.

I slept at the Fighters' Guild again that night, and had a very strange dream. I was in some kind of graveyard or cemetery, surrounded by dead bodies, and following a man dressed only in a golden mask and a loincloth (I really didn't want to think what sort of issues my subconscious was throwing up here). The strangest thing was that he was speaking and laughing with each figure as he passed, though they (obviously) weren't replying. I tried to cry out, but found myself unable to speak, and I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat.

"Off to Vivec again?" enquired Masalinie Merian when I turned up once again at the Mages' Guild. "What in the world are you doing there?"

"You don't want to know," I mumbled.

Over in Vivec I located the alchemist Rolasa Oren, who had a stall in the upper waistworks of the Foreign Quarter, and spent nearly half an hour explaining why imported House Hlaalu guar hides were superior to local (and less expensive) House Redoran hides. Of course, I had no idea whether this was true or not; I'd made the whole thing up based on the notes I'd taken at the Mages' Guild. Rolasa was understandably skeptical, and I'm pretty sure she finally agreed just so that I would shut up and go away.

The whole thing left me feeling faintly disgusted with myself, just like the other missions I'd done for House Hlaalu. Imperial or not, I simply didn't have any taste or aptitude for this kind of wheeling and dealing. I'd become a fighter to get away from that kind of thing.

I have to admit, though, that my principled objections wobbled a bit when I found out just how much Nileno was paying me. "A thousand septims?"

"That's right," she said with a smile. "Think of it as a small share of House Hlaalu's future profits."

I could only shake my head in wonderment. In the Guild I'd have been lucky to make that much in a month, let alone a single job. I couldn't just walk around carrying that kind of money; I'd have to open a bank account or something.

"Tell me, Nileno," I said carefully. "Are all the Houses quite as? ruthless? in business as Hlaalu?"

She sighed. "The Redorans are honourable and fair in their dealings with other Houses, but they have no business sense. Those of us in House Hlaalu understand the power of wealth, and do not ponder morality day after day." Well, that I could certainly believe. "Speaking of which, how would you like to undertake another mission to Ald'ruhn?"

"Uh, maybe," I said warily. "What is it this time?"

"A very simple matter." She took a sealed scroll from her bag. "I need you to deliver new orders to Bivale Teneran, the clothing merchant under Skar. She keeps an eye out for us in Ald'ruhn."

Ah, more secret-agent stuff. Well, delivering orders wasn't too bad ? I just hoped they hadn't put out an alert for someone fitting my description after my last visit to Ald'ruhn.

I took the scroll and was about to leave, when a thought struck me. "By the way, Nileno, could you tell me something? What is a guar, exactly?"

She stared at me in amazement for a few seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing. "You don't know?" You managed to persuade Rolasa Oren to buy our guar hides, and you don't even know what a guar is?"

"I know what a guar hide is," I said, shrugging. "I know all about guar hides. But no one ever bothered to explain what a guar was."

Nileno was still chortling. "A guar is a herd animal kept by farmers," she said at last, when she had calmed down enough to speak. "A little like your cows or sheep, perhaps." She shook her head. "Well, Ada, I congratulate you. You will go far in House Hlaalu."

Hmph. Right now, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to.

Well I must say that I was originally a little disappointed when Ada started joining every guild under the sun, but she makes me laugh often enough that I've quickly forgotten my earlier issue. I applaud your sense of humor and Ada's trouble with pronunciation, the disease that affects the rest of us outlanders.

Chapter 6: Tomb Raider

Since I wasn't exactly desperate to get on with either of my current missions, I decided to go to the Fighter's Guild and see what Eydis had to offer. I'd done enough silly trainee missions for her now; hopefully she'd have something more worthy of my talents (such as they were).

I wasn't disappointed. "We have a contract to kill four Telvanni agents," she told me. "They're responsible for trouble up at the Caldera mine."

"What sort of trouble?"

"The Caldera Mining Company says they've learned a group of Telvanni agents are spying on the mine works. There have been a number of ebony thefts, missing guards, escaped slaves, and these Telvanni agents are responsible."

I looked up sharply. "Escaped slaves?"

"That's right." She took my map so that she could mark the location of the Caldera mine. "The four agents are hiding in a cave in the hills north of the mine. When they're dead, report back to me."

So, the Caldera Mines used slave labour? I felt my heart sink. I'd been hoping that at least the Fighters' Guild jobs would be something I could do with a clean conscience. But I knew well enough that I couldn't pick and choose the missions I took, as long as they were legitimate contracts.

"So, Telvanni," I said with a sigh. "Mages then, I take it?" Maybe I'd have to grit my teeth and buy up those magickguard spells after all.

To my surprise, Eydis hesitated slightly before replying. "No? not mages. They're Thieves' Guild."

I frowned, slightly bemused. I didn't know much about the Telvanni yet, but from what I had heard about them, it really didn't sound like they got on with any of the Imperial guilds. "Why would the Telvanni be hiring Thieves Guild people as agents?"

"Who knows? But this isn't a Thieves Guild job." I would have asked more questions, but something in the look on her face told me that they wouldn't be at all welcome. "Here are the directions and the names of the four agents. Now, get to it."

I said nothing more, but I couldn't help thinking about Sottilde and what she had told me. What was going on here ? some kind of Guild war? Well, whatever it was, it was probably better for me not to know about it. I'd no love for the Thieves' Guild anyway; I just wished this contract didn't involve working for slavers, even indirectly.

Having accepted the mission, I was faced with two choices for the next day's activities: head north to Caldera and hence to Ald'ruhn, or south towards the village of Pelagiad to fetch Sharn's skull from the Andrano tomb. Since I had a nagging feeling that I really ought to start my pilgrimage for the Temple, and the route to the tomb ran reasonably close to one of the pilgrimage sites, I chose the latter.

The road to Pelagiad led south from Fort Moonmoth through a rocky ravine, far too similar to the Ald'ruhn landscape for my liking. I had intended to turn off at a fork in the path and take the turning for the Fields of Kummu, where there was a holy shrine to Vivec. Unfortunately, with my sketchy knowledge of the route and my difficulty in interpreting the Daedric writing on the signposts, I ended up taking the wrong turning ? heading south-west instead of south-east. I didn't fully realise my mistake until, half an hour later, I found myself at a dead end.

By the time I managed to haul myself back out of the ravine and find a signpost, I realised that I was now several miles south of the pilgrimage site. Since turning back would waste time, I'd have to carry on south to the Andrano tomb and visit the shrine on the way back up.

On the plus side, the countryside here was some of the most beautiful I'd ever seen. It reminded me of the Cyrodiil heartlands: leafy and grassy, with patches of wildflowers growing by moss-covered rocks. The only difference was the abundance of huge and colourful mushrooms, as big as trees, dotted around the landscape. I'd entered the region of Vvardenfell known as the Ascadian Isles.

Just as I was about to carry on south, I saw a well-dressed and very pretty Breton woman standing a little way away. At least, she looked like a Breton ? Bretons are technically half-elves, but they're so similar to Imperials in appearance that it's often hard to tell them apart. She looked a little lost, and her clothes clearly weren't intended as travelling gear, so I wondered if she was in difficulties of some kind.

"Can I help you?" I called to her, disregarding the fact that I was pretty much lost myself.

She ran over to me, looking a little flustered. "Begging your pardon, but have you seen a bandit nearby? I must find him!"

"A bandit? Have you been attacked?"

She nodded. "Yes. I was just walking along here, minding my own business, when suddenly a bandit jumped at me from behind. He was a Dark Elf." To my surprise, a faint blush spread over her face. "A strong, dashing Dark Elf. He didn't harm me in any way, although he did take my jewels."

"Okay. Well, I can take you as far as Pelagiad," I said. "If you talk to the guards at the fort there, I'm sure ? "

"What's that? Oh, never mind the jewels!" She waved a hand dismissively. "I want to find the bandit again!"

"What?"

"He was quite gentle," she said dreamily. "And he talked to me for what seemed like forever. He was charming, and funny, and ? "

Oh, sweet Mara. "Are you telling me you've fallen in love with him?!"

"I simply must see him again!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. "Perhaps you can find him for me? Please, I cannot live without knowing if he could ever love me."

I gaped at her. "Are you mad? No, I will not!"

"Have you no heart?" she said passionately. "No soul? Can you not see that this must be true love?"

"True love? With a highway robber you've known for all of three minutes?"

"Not just three minutes!" she protested. "Much longer than that. At least? ten. Anyway, I'm certain he'll want to find me again."

I nodded sagely. "Oh, yes. I'm sure the bandit who swiped your jewels to fund his next skooma hit is just dying to see you again."

She burst into tears. I looked at her in exasperation, wondering why I always seemed to meet the crazy ones. Bretons! They may be wonderful magicians, but they haven't a scrap of common sense between them.

"Look, what's your name?" I asked. "If I happen to come across this bandit ? if ? I guess I could tell him that you'd like to see him again. But I'm not making any promises."

"Oh, thank you so!" she cried, her tears forgotten. "My name is Maurrie Aurmine, and his is Nelos. Nelos Onmar... a name that will stay on my lips for eternity." I was struggling not to laugh. "Please, if you find him, give him this glove for me as a token of my love."

She pulled off one of her expensive-looking gloves and handed it to me. I forced myself to smile politely and then took my leave of her, shaking my head.

When I reached Pelagiad, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was built in the Imperial village style. Rows of half-timbered houses with thatched roofs lent it a quaintly familiar air. I wasn't really expecting to find the dashing Nelos here ? no doubt he was miles away by now ? but I decided to ask around in the local tavern and see if anyone recognised the name.

I pushed open the door of the 'Halfway Tavern'. "Excuse me," I said loudly, glancing around the taproom. "I'm looking for a strong, dashing Dark Elf."

This met with appreciative laughter from the other patrons. There weren't many of them at this time of day ? apart from the female bartender, there was only one other Dunmer in the place. The others were both outlander women: a Wood Elf and a Khajiit.

The bartender raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. "Well, you could try Yakum," she said, gesturing towards the oddly-dressed man sitting in a corner. "But he's an Ashlander; he doesn't speak Tamrielic very well."

I shook my head. "The one I have business with is named Nelos Onmar."

"Ah, Nelos? Yes, he comes in here now and again. Ahnassi!" she called to the Khajiit woman. "Have you seen Nelos here lately?"

The Khajiit nodded. "Yes, Ahnassi has seen him." (For some reason, Khajiit almost always refer to themselves in the third person.) "He will return? later today, perhaps."

Well, I certainly wasn't going to sit around all day waiting for the guy. I opted to leave for the tomb now and come back a little later.

The Andrano ancestral tomb was a little way south of the village, just off the main road. The glyphs on the door made it clear that this was a burial place, though I couldn't read them. I just hoped I'd come to the right place.

Before entering the tomb, I swapped my usual steel longsword for the enchanted blade which Sharn had given me. It was a short blade, and since I'd trained mainly with longswords, the difference in weight and reach would make it harder to fight with. But enchanted blades were expensive, and this was the best I had ? unless I wanted to spend some of my hard-earned Hlaalu cash, which I was saving up to bribe my way back to Cyrodiil.

Inside the tomb, I crept down a narrow, sloping passageway towards a small chamber containing a shrine ? and then stopped short when I saw the body of a male warrior lying on the floor below me. He had no obvious injuries, but that just made me even warier, and I listened carefully for the telltale sounds of the undead as I crept down the passageway.

That caution almost certainly saved my life. The moment I drew close enough to see the whole of the chamber, a pale, semi-transparent form lunged at me from the far corner, its skull-like face leering evilly. I leapt back just in time to avoid being hit, and slashed at it ineffectually with my sword. Nothing happened; the blade seemed to pass straight through the ghostly figure without doing any damage.

Deciding that my life was more important than my dignity, I turned and fled. The ghost followed me all the way to the door, shrieking angrily, and I only just managed to avoid the magical curse it flung at me.

Outside in the bright daylight, I paused to recover my breath and my nerve before attempting to tackle the ghost again. Sharn's sword, nice as it was, clearly wasn't going to work against a spirit this powerful. What I needed was a spell scroll.

Although I'd never learned to speak or read more than a few words of Daedric, I had painstakingly taught myself to recognise the letter clusters and pronounce them phonetically. Spell scrolls took the difficulty out of spellcasting by letting you simply read the words off an enchanted scroll, without having to remember the spell or waste magicka. I rooted around in my pack for something that would work against a ghost, and finally dug out a fire spell scroll called 'Taldam's Scorcher' (see what I mean about the silly names)? It was a fairly cheap scroll, but definitely more effective than my own weak fireball spell.

Clutching the scroll in my hand, I re-entered the tomb, where the angry ghost immediately lunged at me. I gabbled off the spell and the spirit vanished in a burst of fire magicka, leaving only a small heap of ectoplasm on the ground. It would be back, of course ? you can't kill something that's already dead ? but not in the short time I needed to recover Andrano's skull from its crypt.

I was on the watch for more ghosts as I crept through the tomb, but the only other undead I encountered were a few skeleton walkers, which were easy enough to deal with. What really scared me was the tomb itself. The grisly skull decorations and reeking ash-pits strewn with bones were bad enough, but the creepiest thing by far was the sounds. I could hear them everywhere, distant footsteps and heavy breathing, and faint, echoing whispers that seemed to come from the walls themselves.

The deeper I went into the tomb, the louder the whispers became, until I could hear them so clearly that I could actually make out the words (though not understand them). Honestly, I couldn't wait to get out of this place ? I'd go crazy if I spent much more time in here.

Sharn had described the skull's ritual markings in some detail, so I was able to recognise it when I finally came across it in one of the lower chambers. There was some kind of enchanted dagger lying next to it, but I left that well alone. I was half expecting to be attacked by another angry ghost the moment I picked up the skull, and though nothing actually happened, it didn't stop me from feeling deeply uncomfortable. Apart from anything else, the Gods tended to take a very dim view of this kind of thing ? and I didn't want to be refused healing the next time I prayed at a Cult shrine.

"Uh? Arkay?" I mumbled (I never really know what to say when I'm praying). "I'm really sorry about this, okay? But it's all in a good cause. Sort of." Since I was a member of the Temple now, I supposed I ought to pray to Almsivi as well ? but I didn't know which of them handled this sort of thing.

I left the tomb as quickly as possible and made my way back to Pelagiad. Nelos still hadn't returned when I got back to the tavern, so I sat down to wait. In the meantime, I bought a meal and struck up a conversation with the Ashlander man whom the bartender had named as Yakum. He smiled a little shyly when I introduced myself.

"Hello, Ada. Yakum greet you. Bless and be blessed. Speak Old Elf, yes, so Yakum learn."

"So you're an Ashlander?" I asked, unsure what else to say. Hasphat had mentioned that the Ashlanders were the natives of Vvardenfell, but I'd never met any before.

He nodded. "You know Ashlanders, yes, a little? We are the People of the Wastes. We hunt and herd guar. No houses, just yurts."

"So why did you leave?" I asked.

Yakum shrugged. "I was a herder, but now I want to become rich, like a great trader. I will live in a town, fight, find treasure, get rich, learn to trade. The soul sickness and blight storms are very bad now in the Ashlands, so I came to Pelagiad."

"'Soul sickness'?"

"There's bad magic in the dust from Red Mountain." His speech was becoming more fluent as he relaxed a little. "The Sharmat Dagoth Ur sends bad dreams in the dust. When I lived in the Ashlands, I got no sleep, had bad dreams, was all the time tired. Now that I'm here in Pelagiad, I sleep fine."

"Hmm." I briefly remembered the dream I'd had the other day, after my trip to Arkngthand. But I hadn't been anywhere near a Blight storm at the time, so that couldn't be it.

A thought struck me. "Yakum, do you know anything about the Nerevarine?"

"Nerevarine?" His brow furrowed. "Yes, Yakum has heard of this. You must speak with Urshikalu."

"Er? Urshikalu?"

"You have map?" I laid it out on the table in front of him. "Urshikalu are here," he said, pointing at a seemingly random spot in the north of the island. "Or here, or here. They are moving, often."

I guessed that 'Urshikalu' was some kind of Ashlander tribe, but the idea of trekking to the far north just to ask them about the Nerevarine was not an appealing one. Still, at least it was a lead of sorts.

At that moment, the door swung open and a young, swarthy-looking Dunmer man entered the tavern. The bartender looked up from the tankards she was polishing, and a grin spread over her face. "Oh, Nelos!" she called. "There's a lady here to see you."

"A lady?" I heard a note of excitement in his voice, but when he turned and saw me, his face fell. "Oh."

"Mr. Onmar? Ada Ventura," I said loudly, ignoring his rudeness. "I'm here on behalf of Maurrie Aurmine. The lady you robbed on the northern highway a few hours ago."

His face lit up again. "Maurrie? Yes, she was a lovely young woman. But? what would she want with a rogue like me?"

"Search me," I said, narrowing my eyes. "But she asked me to give you this glove as a token." I pulled out the now slightly crumpled glove and handed it to him.

Nelos stared at the glove, turning it over in his hands. "How? odd," he murmured. "She is beautiful, though, and seemed sweet. For the first time in my life, I actually felt a little remorse for robbing someone."

"How charming," I said drily. "Maybe you could demonstrate that remorse by returning her jewels to her?"

His dusky skin flushed slightly. "Actually, I'm afraid I've already sold them."

"Ah, such chivalry," I said. "It must be true love."

Nelos continued to gaze at Maurrie's token, oblivious to the sarcasm in my voice. "I must see her again," he said suddenly. "Do you have a quill?"

I lent him my own quill and some paper and ink, wondering where on Nirn this was going. He scrawled out a message to Maurrie and then handed it back to me. "Here, take this. Tell her you have a note from Nelos. I won't forget this, friend."

I left the tavern, still finding it hard to believe I had ended up as a go-between for a bandit and his Breton sweetheart. He wasn't even that good-looking, I thought ? at least not to my eyes. Mind you, I'd never really gone for the whole 'ash-grey skin and red demon-eyes' look myself.

Although I don't make a habit of reading other people's private correspondence, I did sneak a look at Nelos' note once I was safely out of sight. I was still highly skeptical about Nelos' sudden 'change of heart', and I didn't want to be responsible for putting Maurrie in danger, silly little airhead that she was. But all it contained was a few sentences praising her beauty, begging her forgiveness for his 'past transgressions', and saying he would come to her 'as soon as I can'.

I found Maurrie exactly where I'd left her, sitting on a rock with her hands clasped around her knees. She must have been there hours, yet she didn't seem troubled by hunger, thirst or heat. I explained what had happened and handed over Nelos' note.

She snatched it out of my hands, read it quickly, and let out a cry of joy. "Wonderful! Thank you so! Oh, I knew that he cared."

"Well, if you go to meet him, just be careful," I warned her, vainly hoping to instil a note of caution in that pretty little head of hers. "Don't let him? take advantage of you."

But she wasn't listening. "You're clearly a wonderful person," she said, enfolding me in a spontaneous hug. "You should visit my friend Barnand Erelie in Tel Branora. He's a wonderful person too, and I think the two of you would get along famously."

I gazed after her in disbelief as she all but skipped off down the road towards Pelagiad. Was she trying to set me up with a friend of hers? Still, I supposed it couldn't do any harm, if I ever happened to be passing that way. I just hoped I wouldn't come back to hear that her body had been found in a ditch somewhere.

On my way up towards the Fields of Kummu, I came across yet another young woman standing in the road. She looked far less wealthy than Maurrie, but just as lost. As I approached she called out, "Hello! Please, can you help me?"

I stopped short. "Please don't say you're looking for Nelos Onmar as well!"

"Who?" she asked, with a puzzled frown. "No, I've lost my way, that's all. I cannot find the holy place for which I am searching."

I really wasn't in the mood for escort missions right now. "Well, I don't really know this area myself," I explained. "I was just on my way to the Fields of Kummu ? "

"That's it!" she cried in delight. "Perhaps you can help me find it? I can pay you for your time."

Since it wouldn't cost me anything, I agreed to let her come along with me. As we went, the young woman ? a Dunmer named Nevrasa Dralor ? explained that she too was a pilgrim, and told me the story behind the Kummu shrine.

"It was there that Lord Vivec met a poor farmer whose only guar had died," she said. "This farmer could not harvest his muckspunge without his guar, and could not provide muck for himself or his village. So, the Lord Vivec removed his fine clothes, laid them aside, and toiled in the farmer's fields, acting as a beast of burden until the entire crop was harvested. It is at the Fields of Kummu we go to pray for the same humility Lord Vivec showed on that day."

"What a nice story," I said politely. "Er, what is 'muck'?"

She looked surprised. "Surely you have brought a portion with you to donate to the shrine?"

With a sinking heart, I pulled out my copy of The Pilgrim's Path and turned to the page on the Fields of Kummu shrine. There, at the bottom of the page, it clearly stated that "It is customary to leave a portion of muck at the shrine to represent Vivec's humility."

"Damn." I turned to Nevrasa. "I don't suppose you might have some spare??"

She shook her head. "No, I have only one portion. But there may be mucksponges near the shrine."

Well, I certainly hoped so. I'd be seriously annoyed if I turned out to have dragged myself all the way out here for nothing.

It was early evening when we finally reached the shrine, by the bank of the huge Lake Amaya. Nevrasa thanked me and paid me a very welcome 150 gold for my trouble. "I don't suppose you see any mucksponges round here?" I said hopefully.

She looked out over the lake, nodded suddenly, and pointed to a small island a short way from the shore. Bugger.

I stripped off my armour and plunged into the lake, thankful that I didn't wear my good clothes when out on missions. Unfortunately I'd forgotten that the waters around Morrowind, and indeed in many parts of Cyrodiil, tended to be full of slaughterfish. What was more, when I finally struggled back to the shore with my portion of muck, I found that it was too steep to climb back up. I had to swim quite a way along the bank to a place where it was shallow enough to allow me to climb out.

By the time I limped back to the shrine, soaked and muddy and bleeding from several slaugterfish bites, I felt more like cursing Vivec than praying to him. Nevrasa's look of faint amusemant didn't help. "Perhaps you should learn a Water Walking spell," she suggested politely.

Perhaps I should, I thought. That way I could waste all my magicka trying to cast it, and still end up soaked to the skin. (I was in a rather bad mood by this point.)

I dropped my piece of muck in the bowl by the shrine. I don't really know how to describe the stuff, except that it was brown, slimy and? well, mucky. Presumably it had some kind of alchemical use, but I wouldn't eat or drink anything made from that stuff if you paid me.

"Thank you for your humility, Lord Vivec," I said, reciting the 'Grace of Humility' written on the shrine. "I shall neither strut nor preen in vanity, but shall know and give thanks for my place in the greater world."

Almost immediately I felt a whole lot lighter ? not in a metaphorical sense, but physically. My heavy armour and pack suddenly felt almost weightless, as if someone had just lifted them off my shoulders. It took me a couple of seconds to realise that the shrine had cast a Feather spell on me.

"Hey, thanks," I said approvingly. Maybe this pilgrimage business wasn't so bad after all.

Moments later it dawned on me that it was getting dark, and I was stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. By now I was getting pretty tired, and I really didn't fancy making the long trek back to Balmora in the dead of night. I was just debating whether to ask for shelter at the nearby farmhouse, when I remembered the scrolls I'd picked up at the Mages' Guild: Divine Intervention and Almsivi Intervention. I'd been told that travellers lost in the wilderness could use them to reach safety.

I hesitated for a moment before picking the Almsivi scroll pretty much at random. There was that familiar teleportation sound and sensation of lightness, and before I knew what was happening, I was standing in the courtyard of the Balmora Temple.

Wow. I really had to get more of those scrolls.

I hurried over to the Mages' Guild in the hope of catching Sharn before she went to bed. "Special delivery," I announced loudly, as I marched into the secluded corner where she sat writing at her desk. "One Dunmer enchanter's skull for Sharn gra-Muzgob."

Sharn, who hadn't heard me approach, nearly jumped out of her skin. "Be quiet, will you?" she hissed. "You have the skull, then? Very good. Just let me finish writing these notes for Caius."

I handed over the skull and waited for her to finish writing. Just as she laid down her quill and stood up, my eye fell on a book stuffed into a corner of a half-opened alchemy chest. Legions of the Dead? I'd seen that a dozen times in necromancers' hideouts.

"So, Sharn," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "Are you sure you're not a necromancer?"

She threw up her hands. "How many times do I have to tell you that the answer is no! I am not a necromancer!"

"So? why do you have a copy of Legions of the Dead?"

"How did you ? " She followed my gaze to the open chest. "Drat. Oh, all right, I admit it: I'm a necromancer. What are you going to do, report me to the Temple? Er? please don't report me to the Temple," she added hastily. "Do you know what they do to necromancers in Morrowind?"

I didn't, but given the general Dunmer attitude towards their departed ancestors, I could well imagine. "Okay, fine," I said with a sigh. "I won't tell anyone your secret."

"Thank you," she said, with immense relief. "Would you like me to teach you some necromancy spells?"

"Er, no thanks, I ? "

"No, let me," she begged. "I can teach you the Summon Ancestral Ghost spell, if you like. Or would you prefer Summon Skeletal Minion?"

"Whichever." I had no intention of ever using either spell, given that I knew even less about Conjuration than I did about any of the other magical disciplines. Knowing me, I'd probably get it horribly wrong and end up summoning Sheogorath or something.

Sharn gave me the instructions for a summoning spell, and also some notes on the Nerevarine cult for Caius. "This Ashlander cult believes the long-dead hero Nerevar will be reborn to honour ancient promises to the tribes," she explained. "According to legend, the prophesied Nerevarine will cast down the false gods of the Tribunal Temple, restore the traditional ancestor worship practiced by the Ashlanders, and drive all outlanders from Morrowind. Both Temple and Empire outlaw the cult, but it still persists among the Ashlanders."

I glanced at Sharn's notes. They were a lot longer and more detailed than the ones given to me by Hasphat ? in fact, they were so long that I couldn't be bothered to read through them properly. To tell the truth, I really wasn't all that interested in the Nerevarine and all the things he was prophesised to do. The only thing that caught my eye was a reference to a prophecy called 'The Stranger', written in the form of a poem:

THE STRANGER

When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,
And sleepers serve the seven curses,
To the hearth there comes a stranger,
Journeyed far 'neath moon and star.

Though stark-born to sire uncertain
His aspect marks his certain fate.
Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him.
Prophets speak, but all deny.

Many trials make manifest
The stranger's fate, the curses' bane.
Many touchstones try the stranger
Many fall, but one remains.

Not exactly the best poetry I'd ever read, but no doubt it lost something in translation. Anyway, Caius would certainly be pleased.

That night, as I was walking to Caius' house to deliver the notes, something very weird happened. I was just coming to the bridge when a Dunmer man in a green robe approached me, catching me by the sleeve. I tried to pull away from him, but he clung on with surprising strength.

"I am a Sleeper," he intoned. "One among thousands. I bring you a message. Dagoth Ur calls you, Ada, and you cannot deny your Lord. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory."

"What?" I asked in astonishment, mildly disturbed that he seemed to know my name. "The Sixth House is risen?"

He nodded. "The Sixth House, the Sleeping House, House Dagoth, the House of Lord Dagoth. The true house, the one house to welcome all true Dunmer, and drive the n'wah from our land." That word again!

Once more I tried to shake myself free, but he was still clutching my sleeve. There was a glazed look in his eyes; if he hadn't been speaking to me so clearly, I would have thought he was sleepwalking. Was he drunk? Drugged?

"Take heed, outlander," he growled. "The day of reckoning is at hand. Take what you can, and leave our place, for when Lord Dagoth comes, this will be no place for you."

"Right. Well, thanks for the warning." I wrenched my sleeve from his grasp and hurried on my way, slightly creeped out. Crazy guy.

Once I had delivered the notes to Caius, and been rewarded with a promotion to Blades Apprentice, I explained to him that I didn't feel quite ready to undertake any more Blades missions yet. That encounter with the ghost had reminded me that while I was pretty good against mortal opponents, I needed more practice ? or better equipment ? before trying to tackle the undead. He seemed to understand.

"Yes, I'd like to see you at a higher level of conditioning before sending you out again," he said. "So take some time to polish your skills and enhance your cover story with a little freelance adventuring. When you've gotten some exercise and loot, come back, and I'll have some new orders for you."

I was all too ready to obey. I'd spent the best part of a week chasing around the countryside at the behest of one guild or another, and I was downright exhausted. So I went to the Eight Plates, hired a room for two nights, and spent almost the whole of the next day in bed.

Keep up the nice work!

Chapter 7: Indecent Exposure

I took the Guild guide to Caldera the next morning. Like Pelagiad, it was a newly-chartered settlement built in the Imperial style. The town was set in a region called the West Gash, which was somewhere between Ald'ruhn and the southern regions in terms of landscape: not as dry and dusty as the Ashlands, but not as green and leafy as the Ascadian Isles.

As I was walking out to the mines, something very strange occurred. I spotted a figure up ahead, by a crossroads, who looked for all the world like he wasn't wearing any clothes. As I drew closer I realised that the figure was a male Nord, and that he was, indeed, stark naked.

Now, I'd met a few Nords in my time whom I wouldn't have minded seeing naked. In fact, there were one or two whom I had seen naked, and been very happy about it (just don't tell my parents). This guy was not one of them. He was middle-aged, hairy, and possessed of numerous colourful tattoos which did not enhance his beauty.

He called out to me as I approached, not seeming at all embarrassed. "Hail and well met, stranger! As ye can plainly see, I require some assistance, if ye be kind enough to grant it."

From his heavy accent and dialect I guessed him to be a native of Skyrim, rather than Cyrodiil or some other part of the Empire. "Here, take this," I murmured, handing him one of my spare shirts from my pack while trying not to look at his groin area. "No, don't try to wear it ? it's much too small. Just ? wrap it around yourself or something."

"Thank ye," he said agreeably, tying the shirt around his mid-section. I wouldn't be asking for that one back. "Now, I need help finding the festering witch who has robbed me blind and left me for dead."

"A witch?"

He nodded. "A witch she had to be. I was on my way to Caldera when I met her. She was a stranger here like myself, and she was quite friendly, and, well, y'know, we set up camp together."

"Yes, I get the idea?"

"But that night," he went on, "she revealed the witch inside. Cast a spell on me. I couldn't so much as blink! Stole everything, even me worn out clothes, but most importantly, she took my prized axe Cloudcleaver!" He clapped a meaty hand on my shoulder. "Join with me, stranger! And let's find her and extract her entrails together!"

I looked at him in exasperation. "But I'm here on a job! Oh, all right," I sighed reluctantly, seeing the anguished look on his face. "But you'll have to wait until I finish my mission for the Fighters' Guild."

He nodded enthusiastically. "I knew you had the bloodlust in you, stranger! Just? try to hurry up, will ye? It's a bit chilly today."

I eventually found the Telvanni agents holed up in a cave not far from the mines. Not being trained fighters, they didn't pose much of a challenge, and the fight was nasty but short. No doubt the Thieves' Guild would be pissed off with me if they found out what had happened, but if they were hiring themselves out to the Telvanni as saboteurs, they had only themselves to blame.

Afterwards I rejoined my Nord friend, whose name turned out to be Hlormar. "Onward, friend!" he cried. "We must find this witch before she moves again. I can feel Cloudcleaver calling out to me to rescue it from the clutches of evil!"

We set off down a path leading north-west, which was the way Hlormar thought the witch had gone. After walking for some time, I spotted a robed woman off in the distance. Hlormar let out a roar. "That's her! That's the witch!"

We ran off in pursuit of the woman, who turned and stared at the sound of Hlormar's angry voice. "Oh. It's you."

"Excuse me!" I panted, somewhat out of breath. "My friend Hlormar here claims that you stole his axe."

She let out a bark of laughter. "Ha! A right funny story that one is! Tell me, did he inform you that his name is actually 'Hlormar Wine-Sot'?"

"Oh?"

"The true story," she explained, "is that I took Hlormar on as a travelling companion for protection. Along the way he was getting entirely too friendly for his own good, so I had to cast a sleep spell on him. Just to teach him a lesson in manners, I stripped him and left him by the road." Her lips curled slightly. "And to be sure he didn't come after me for retribution, I took that Cloudcleaver he's always fawning over as well."

This drew a cry of rage from Hlormar. "Lying witch! Are you going to help me, friend, or are you believing the lies spilling out of that witch's face?"

I looked from one to the other, and threw up my hands in despair. "Sort it out for yourselves! I'm not getting involved." I walked off, leaving them yelling at each other. Sheesh!

Since I was already part-way there, I decided to walk the rest of the way to Ald'ruhn. Unfortunately I had rather misjudged the distance, and it ended up taking a lot longer than I had expected. If I hadn't had the sense to bring food and water with me, I don't know what kind of state I'd have been in by the time I reached the city.

Coming into the Ashlands region, I rounded a corner and stopped short, struck by a powerful sense of what the Bretons call d?j? vu. There in the middle of the road, a short way ahead, stood yet another axe-wielding Nord man ? tall, hefty, bearded, and completely naked. Actually, I tell a lie: this one wasn't completely naked. He wore leather boots, gauntlets, and some kind of fur helmet.

I blinked a couple of times, wondering whether I really was going mad. Had I been starved of male companionship for so long that I was starting to hallucinate naked men everywhere I went? If so, you'd have thought they'd be a little more attractive.

As I walked up to the man, I could see that he was looking extremely angry. "You!" he roared. "You will speak with me now, or you shall feel the bite of my axe!"

I raised my eyebrows. "Yeah, OK. You might want to put some clothes on first."

"Grrrrrrr." The Nord ground his teeth. "When this enchantment wears off, Hisin Deep-Raed will shed some blood!"

"Enchantment?" I clasped my hand to my forehead. "Don't tell me. You ran into a witch, right?"

"That I did," he admitted, calming down slightly. "That foul witch has given me some enchanted disease, leaving me rooted to this spot! She called it Witchwither."

I couldn't suppress a choke of laughter. "Well, with a name like that, I guess it could have been worse?"

"Foul temptress!" he snarled. For a moment I thought he was addressing me; then I realised he meant the witch. "I had been her escort; she was a big woman, friendly... you know. Then the damned witch ensorcelled me ? leaving me at this spot, nearly naked, to display my shame to the world!"

"Okay, calm down," I said, fighting a powerful urge to giggle. "Let's see what we can do about this. You say she gave you some kind of disease?"

He nodded. "Well, I'm not much of a spellcaster," I went on, "but I might have a Cure Disease potion here somewhere. Just let me take a look." I managed to resist the temptation to ask him exactly how he had contracted the disease; that would have been a little too cruel.

Hisin looked gratified, and a little surprised. "You have honour, stranger," he acknowledged. "I am a man of standing among my people. My father and my father's father, and his father before him, have had songs sung of their deeds, and I shall be no different! Treat me fairly, and I will reward you."

Once again I found myself struggling not to giggle. "Well? let's hope this particular deed doesn't end up in the songbooks, hmm?"

I managed to find a Cure Common Disease potion in my pack; it was one of the ones I'd purchased from Aurane Frernis in Vivec. I had to hold it to Hisin's lips for him to drink, as he was completely unable to move. As he gulped it down, I saw the rigid muscles in his arms and chest relax slightly.

"Yes, yes!" he cried. "I'm free of this enchantment! Hisin Deep-Raed calls you friend, er?"

"Ada."

He removed the fur helmet from his head. "Take this, my family's helm, Icecap. It was worn by my father, and his father, and his father before ? "

"Yes, I get the picture," I interrupted hastily. The helmet stank of sweat and unwashed barbarian, but I could see the faint glow that indicated an enchantment. "Is that a Resist Frost enchantment on it?"

He nodded. "It will protect you from the coldest of nights. Wear it with honour. And now, I must go kill that witch!"

I caught him by the arm as he was about to run off. "Um, Hisin?" I held out another of my shirts to him. "Perhaps you'd like to, er, cover yourself a bit first?"

Hisin's face turned several shades redder. He snatched the shirt from me without a word and tied it round himself, before stomping off down the southern path. "Filthy witch!" I heard him growl to himself. "I'll feed her entrails to the nix-hounds!"

I walked on, shaking my head. Akatosh, what was it with all these Nord barbarians getting seduced and robbed by witches? I'd have to hope I would get to Ald'ruhn before I ran into any more of them, not least because I was starting to run out of shirts.

To my immense relief, I didn't come across any more naked Nords (or anyone else) on my journey to Ald'ruhn. It was late afternoon when I finally arrived, and the sun was still high in the sky. I had to admit that the place didn't look quite as bad in bright sunlight, but there was still a thick coating of ash over the parched ground. Dunmer children jumped around in the dust and threw handfuls at each other, while older residents stood outside their doors, sweeping it into neat little piles.

Before going to Skar, I decided to pay a visit to the Ald'ruhn Fighters' Guild to repair my weapons and armour. In the lower hall I was greeted by an intelligent-looking Imperial, probably in his early fifties, who introduced himself as Percius Mercius.

"I used to be the Master of the Fighters Guild," he told me. "But I took the opportunity to retire here in Ald'ruhn. The current Guildmaster is Sjoring Hard-Heart, over in Vivec."

Ald'ruhn certainly wasn't the place I'd have chosen to retire to, but each to his own, I guess. When I explained that I was a member of the Balmora guild, Percius raised his eyebrows. "Working for Eydis, are you? Well, if you need any advice on orders you've been given ? anything that seems out of the ordinary to you ? let me know. I'm more than willing to help out."

My mind flashed back to the Caldera mine mission and Sottilde's codebook. "Okay, thanks. I will."

"Things have really gone bad since I was the Master of the Guild," he said with a sigh. "Sure, Sjoring's a good fighter, no one disputes that. But I've heard ? " He stopped suddenly.

"What have you heard?"

Percius shook his head. "I've said too much already. Maybe when you've proven yourself we can talk again."

I got the distinct feeling that whatever he had to say, I wasn't going to like it. Gods, I hate Guild politics.

It was getting a little late to be heading over to the clothier's store, and I didn't want to arouse any suspicions, so I stayed the night in the Guild building. Sleeping there for the first time was a rather strange experience, as ? like most buildings in Ald'ruhn ? it was mostly built underground. I kept worrying that I'd run out of air and suffocate, until I remembered that I'd slept in caves plenty of times with no ill effects.

The next morning I hurried over to Skar, anxious to get my mission over with as soon as possible. Was it my imagination, or did the patrolling guards look even less friendly than they had on my previous visit? It had to be the former, but that did little to reduce my paranoia.

My fears turned out to be groundless, as the meeting with Bivale Teneran went very smoothly. She was alone when I entered her shop, so I simply handed over the scroll to her. "Yes, as I expected," she said, after a quick glance at it. "Tell Nileno Dorvayn that I received the scroll and understood the message. Oh, and why not take this outfit?"

She handed me an exquisitely-tailored shirt and pants. I stared at them in amazement, scarcely able to believe that she would just give away these lovely clothes. "For? for me? Really?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. "A present for my efficient courier."

"Wow. That's? really kind of you," I stammered. "Thanks ever so much."

As I was walking back to the bridge after leaving the store, I saw a Redguard woman walking in the other direction. It was Neminda, the Redoran retainer whose orders I'd intercepted during my first Hlaalu assignment. There was no way for me to avoid her, and I very nearly panicked ? until I realised that there was no possible way for her to recognise me or guess what I'd been doing here.

"Greetings, stranger," she said with a friendly nod. "Nice to see another human in Ald'ruhn. Are you new here?"

I nodded. "Just arrived in Morrowind a week ago."

For a moment I was afraid that she would recognise my voice, but if she did, there was no sign of it. She simply held out a hand in greeting. "I'm Neminda, a drillmaster for House Redoran."

"Ada Ventura, of Imperial City." I tried to think of something else to say, but my mind had gone blank. "So, uh? you're a Redoran?"

"That's right," she said with a smile. "We are true and noble warriors, the hereditary defenders of Morrowind. Were you thinking of joining the House? You look like a fighter."

"I can't," I said, with genuine regret. "I've already joined House Hlaalu, I'm afraid." I was beginning to wish I'd taken the time to do some research into the Great Houses, rather than blithely signing up with Hlaalu the moment I arrived in Balmora. From what I heard of Redoran, it sounded like it might have suited me rather better, but it was too late now.

Neminda arched her eyebrows, and while she refrained from commenting, I could see that I'd sunk a couple of notches in her estimation. "I see," she said, in a voice that was still polite, but a little less friendly. "Well, no matter. Enjoy your stay in Ald'ruhn, sera."

She went on her way, and I hurried back to the Mages' Guild, relieved that I seemed to have got away with my little impersonation. Even so, I had no intention of staying any more nights in Ald'ruhn ? no doubt Neminda was aware of the trick played on her by now, and you never knew when she might suddenly make the connection.

When I got back to Nileno Dorvayn, I found her looking somewhat harassed. "Ah, Ada!" she exclaimed. "Have you delivered the scroll? Good. I'm promoting you to Retainer, effective immediately."

"Oh. Thanks," I said, a little surprised by her abrupt manner. "Is something the matter, Nileno?"

She let out an exasperated sigh, massaging her temples with her fingers. "A Hlaalu noble has just been murdered."

"Murdered!"

She nodded. "Ralen Hlaalo was a noble who lived here in Balmora. Here, take this key and go to Hlaalo manor." Her expression was grim. "When you find out who murdered Ser Ralen, kill them. Make sure no ever dares raise their hand against a Hlaalu noble again!"

Thus I found myself playing detective for the second time in little more than a week. I wasn't complaining, though; it made a nice change from spying, looting ancestral tombs, and other assorted skulduggery.

Ralen's body was still lying on the floor of Hlaalo manor when I entered; he must have been killed only hours earlier. Needless to say, the place was a mess. A pool of congealed, sticky blood surrounded poor Ralen ? who, from the look of him, appeared to have been attacked with an axe or something similar. He lay on his back, his white face gazing up at the ceiling with blank, sightless eyes.

I couldn't see anyone else around, though overturned furniture and smashed crockery suggested that some kind of fight had taken place. Surely there had to be witnesses? I found it hard to believe that a struggle like that could have taken place without anyone seeing or hearing anything.

I bent over the young man's body, searching for clues, and looked up to see a middle-aged Dunmer woman watching me from the foot of the stairs. When I straightened up, she gripped her skirts nervously and retreated a couple of steps. "It's OK," I told her. "I'm a member of your House, here to investigate the murder."

After a brief hesitation, she nodded and beckoned me closer. "It's just terrible," she whispered. "Ralen Hlaalo employed me for years. What will I do now?"

"Could you give me a description of the murderer?"

She nodded, her eyes darting nervously around the room as if she feared that someone might hear us. "I saw him with my own eyes. He was a young Dunmer with red hair in a tall row over his head, as is fashionable these days. He wore bonemold armour and wielded a Dwemer War Axe."

"Any idea who he was?"

Another brief pause. "No, I do not know more than that. I am sorry."

The slight hesitation, combined with her reluctance to meet my gaze, was enough to tell me that she was lying. Clearly she did have at least an idea who the murderer was, but was too afraid to tell me. Given that she'd just seen her employer hacked to death with an axe, I couldn't entirely blame her.

"I'll find the guy," I promised. "Don't worry."

She gulped and nodded. "I wish you luck."

I spent the next hour or so asking around town to see if anyone recognised the description, but it was hopeless. I saw clear signs of recognition in the faces of several of the Dunmer I spoke to, but when I pressed them for information, they all insisted that they didn't know anyone who looked like that. Finally, in despair, I went to the Fighters' Guild in hopes that someone there might be willing to talk.

After collecting my pay from Eydis, and picking up my next orders ? some sort of debt-collection job in a town called Suran ? I asked various Guild members whether they knew any red-haired Dunmer men. I wasn't too hopeful, but rather to my surprise, an Imperial woman named Flaenia seemed to recognise the description. "Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "That sounds like Thanelen Velas over at the Council Club."

The Council Club! Well, that certainly explained why everyone had been so reluctant to identify the guy ? he was Camonna Tong, of course. I should have guessed.

After turning it over in my mind for a while, I decided to enter the Council Club, but with extreme caution. I was well aware that one false move could leave me with an axe embedded in my own skull. As luck would have it, the first person I met there precisely matched the murderer's description, and was alone. He was sitting on a small table, staring absently into the distance while chewing on some kind of leaf.

I waved a hand in front of his face. "Excuse me. Are you Thanelan Velas?"

The man folded his arms and looked me over for several seconds, his expression clearly showing that he wasn't impressed. Finally he said, "What's it to you?"

"I represent House Hlaalu," I told him. "A Hlaalu noble was murdered last night, and you fit the murderer's description."

Rather than getting angry or defensive, the man just shrugged, a bored look on his face. "You are mistaken. It was Nine-Toes who killed him."

Hang on, 'Nine-Toes'? Apart from the fact that that was clearly an Argonian name, I was pretty sure he was one of the Blades trainers that Caius had recommended to me.

"So Nine-Toes is a red-haired Dunmer, is he?" I asked. "Because the witness I spoke to was pretty clear about that part."

"And who was the witness?"

"I'm not telling you," I said. "All you need to know is that they saw you leaving the house after the murder."

Thanelan was too smart to fall for this, however. "Well, they cannot have seen me, because I was not there."

"Why did you kill him, Thanelan?" I said quietly. "Was it over money? A woman?"

A brief flash of rage in Thanelan's eyes told me that I had hit very close to home; however, he wasn't about to give up so easily. He slid off the table and stood up, looking me directly in the face.

"I did not kill him, outlander," he said, slowly and clearly, as if talking to a child. "It was the Argonian, Nine-Toes."

We faced off for several seconds, doing our best to outstare each other. I was almost sure that he was the killer, but what could I do? I had no proof. If I attacked him on the spot, I'd be arrested for murder myself ? not to mention that he probably had friends down below who'd come running at the first sign of trouble.

"All right," I said at last. "I'll carry on gathering evidence. Don't go anywhere in the meantime, will you?"

His only answer was a snort. As I turned to leave, gripping the hilt of my sword, I heard him mutter, "N'wah".

Gritting my teeth, I went back to Nileno, who was busy with some kind of paperwork. I got the impression that the Hlaalu councillors often left her to handle tasks they should really be doing themselves. "Yes, what is it?" she said irritably. "Have you found the murderer yet?"

"Yes, I think so," I said. "He's a Camonna Tong member named Thanelan Velas."

"And is he dead?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"He's Camonna Tong," I hissed. "What am I supposed to do, wipe out the entire Council Club? Besides, I don't have any actual proof."

Nileno flung down her quill in exasperation. "Then find some proof," she growled. "Or find another way to kill him. Or bribe a guard. But whatever you do, Ada, I want Ralen's murder avenged. Do I make myself clear?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her why the hell she didn't just kill him herself if she thought it was that easy. Somehow, sanity prevailed and I forced myself to remain calm. "All right, I'll try," I said grudgingly. "But it may take a while."

She shrugged and went back to her paperwork. I left the hall, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind me.

Since I couldn't immediately think of a way to deal with Thanelan, I instead went to Vivec to look for a bank. By now I had far too much money to simply carry around with me, and my current solution ? keeping it locked in a chest in the Fighter's Guild ? was not a particularly good one. After finding a place to deposit my gold, I visited an enchanter in the Foreign Quarter to pick up more spell scrolls, and was just preparing to leave when I heard a loud commotion outside.

"What's that?" I asked. "Why all the shouting?"

Miun-Gei, the Argonian enchanter, scowled darkly. "That annoying fool! Did you not see him as you entered? It is that Marcel Maurard. Outside my shop he stands all day, selling ridiculous wares." He sighed. "Get rid of him I would like to, but the law says he is within his rights. Perhaps you might find a way?"

I considered this for a minute. The silt strider to Suran didn't leave until evening, so I didn't exactly have a whole lot else to do right now. "I suppose I could try."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Make him go away, and I will have rewards for you!"

I went outside, where Marcel Maurard ? a handsome but rather effeminate-looking Breton ? was hawking his wares to largely uninterested passers-by. "Excuse me," I said. "Would you mind doing that somewhere else? You're scaring people away from Miun-Gei's shop."

"Leave here? I could not! It is the finest spot in all Vivec from which to sell my wares. Otherwise, I'd have nothing upon which to support myself." He heaved a melodramatic sigh. "A man in my line of work must find a way to make a living!"

"And what line of work is that?"

"I am an actor!" (He pronounced it 'ac-tor', with emphasis on the 'or'.) "Or at least I hope to be. I am the poor player who struts and frets for a while on a stage and then has lunch. I am full of sound and furiousness! Oh, if there were but a good theatre troupe in this town, I could give up selling these baubles. Oh! Woe is me!"

I nearly burst out laughing. Was this guy serious? "Well, I'll see if I can find one for you."

"Oh, to be an actor," I heard him murmur, as I walked away. "To act, perchance to earn some money!"

After asking around about the theatre scene in Vivec, I was directed to Crassius Curio, a noble in the Hlaalu canton. Apparently he was quite a patron of the arts, and was currently looking for actors to star in his new play. I took a gondola to the Hlaalu canton, which was all but identical to the Foreign Quarter, complete with those scary-looking Ordinators around every corner. How the people of Vivec could stand to have those guys watching their every move was beyond me.

I was a little apprehensive about marching into Curio's splendid top-tier mansion and asking to see him, but when I explained that I was a member of House Hlaalu, things went pretty smoothly. A Dunmer servant directed me to Curio, who was 'busy with his writing' in his room below. In hindsight, I guess I should have found it a little strange that he chose to receive visitors in his bedroom.

The moment I saw Crassius Curio, I felt that there was something faintly sleazy about him. He was almost a stereotypical Imperial noble, decked out in elegant Western-style clothes and jewels that were perhaps a little too flamboyant. I stiffened a little at the wolfish grin he shot me when I entered the room, but I was determined not to let it bother me.

"Crassius Curio?" I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

"Yes, I'm Crassius Curio," he said with a smile. "But you can call me 'Uncle Crassius'." Uncle Crassius?

"I heard you were looking for actors for a theatre troupe," I said, trying to ignore the 'Uncle Crassius' remark.

His eyes lit up. "A company of players, yes! But there are so few in the area that are willing to act, even for a good price. I need an actor with wit, grace, charm, and a firm...oh, never mind." His eyes roved over me in a way that made me feel deeply uncomfortable. "You wouldn't be a bad choice, muffin."

"Me?" I said in alarm. "I can't act!"

"Ah, well," he sighed. "If you see someone else who fits the bill, send them to Uncle Crassius."

"Actually, I do know someone who might be interested," I said, and gave him a brief description of Marcel Maurard.

'Uncle Crassius' nodded thoughtfully when I'd finished. "Yes, he sounds exactly right for my new play, The Lusty Argonian Maid. A rather bawdy tale, but I think it will play well with the people." He gave me another of those rather disconcerting smiles. "You do like plays, don't you, pumpkin?"

"I love plays," I admitted. I'd often snuck out to see plays when I lived in the Imperial City, particularly the ones that my parents didn't think were 'suitable'. "In fact, I had an idea for a play once."

"Did you indeed?" His eyes sparkled with amusemant. "And what was your idea?"

"Well?" I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to share it with him.

"Come on, sweetie, don't be shy."

I hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Well, there are these two noble families that have been feuding for generations. Say? one from House Hlaalu and one from House Redoran." He nodded. "Anyway, a boy from the Hlaalu family falls in love with a girl from the Redoran family. But of course, their parents won't hear of it."

"Ah, forbidden love!" he exclaimed. "Do go on."

"So they marry in secret," I continued, warming to my theme. "But then, the man accidentally kills another Redoran in a fight, and has to flee the city."

Crassius' eyes widened. "My goodness! What happens next?"

"Well, in the meantime, the girl's parents have arranged a marriage for her. But of course, she can't tell them that she's already married. So she goes to the local alchemist, and buys a potion that'll make her appear to be dead ? "

"Ah, I see it now!" he breathed. "The fair Dunmer maiden, swept off her feet by the handsome Crellius? Caro, mad with despair ? "

"Well. Um." I hesitated. "I suppose the hero could be an Imperial. But? I think it would be more effective if they were both Dunmer."

"But it all ends happily, of course?" he continued, appearing not to hear.

I took a deep breath. "Actually? I was planning to have both of them die at the end. You see, the point is ? "

"Oh, but you can't have a sad ending, poppet!" He shook his head, chuckling. "Got to give the punters what they want, eh? No, I'll tell you what happens: The girl has a saucy Argonian maid ? or maybe a Khajiit ? who carries her messages to her lover. When he hears about the marriage and the potion, he returns to the city in disguise. Then all you need is a few more misunderstandings, a mix-up with a false moustache, feuding parents see the error of their ways, and all ends happily. Much better, don't you think?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. "I? suppose so."

"I shall start work on it at once," he declared. "That is, once I've finished The Lusty Argonian Maid. Here, take a look at the work so far ? I think it's scrumptious!" He pressed a copy into my hands before I had time to answer.

I dutifully opened the manuscript at a random page and glanced at the dialogue inside. It showed an excerpt from 'Act IV, Scene III':


Lifts-Her-Tail: Certainly not, kind sir! I am here but to clean your chambers.

Crantius Colto: Is that all you have come here for, little one? My chambers?

Lifts-Her-Tail: I have no idea what it is you imply, master. I am but a poor Argonian maid.

Crantius Colto: So you are, my dumpling. And a good one at that. Such strong legs and shapely tail.

Lifts-Her-Tail: You embarrass me, sir!

Crantius Colto: Fear not. You are safe here with me.

Lifts-Her-Tail: I must finish my cleaning, sir. The mistress will have my head if I do not!

Crantius Colto: Cleaning, eh? I have something for you. Here, polish my spear.

Lifts-Her-Tail: But it is huge! It could take me all night!

Crantius Colto: Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time.


Yes. Well. I probably wouldn't be rushing to see that one on opening night.

"I think it's marvellous," I told him, anxious to make my escape. "But I really have to go now. I'm sure Mr. Maurard will be delighted to hear you have a place for him."

"Goodbye, my little sweetroll," he said, with a wink. "Remember: Be sweet to Uncle Crassius, and there's something in it for you, sweetcakes."

Ye gods, this guy was creepy even by the standards of theatrical types. Just talking to him left me feeling like I needed a long bath. I left the place hoping fervently that I'd never have to see him again, play or no play. Oh, if I'd only known?

Helena,

First of all, a deep THANK YOU.

Frequently have I read your screenplay (Why the hell did I write it that way? Some of that last scene must have rubbed off on me!) and I have been in hysterics - there simply isn't another word - over your humour as you re-interpret the Morrowind scenario...

You have brought joy into my life, and much joy too, I suspect, into the lives of many others. As can be seen from the number of views of your story.

Yes, I call your story a 'screenplay'. I will explain.

When an outline is clearly known already, but when it needs to be transferred to new medium - the screen, or the stage - it needs a writer of intelligence and craft who can do the job of changing what is familiar into what is BOTH new AND familiar, which is doubly challenging.

But, of course, in your case you've carried off the prize.

I wonder how many will note as they read, and chuckle, the subtle and quietly brilliant touches, so light that they're almost imperceptible, that you've put in to give life and colour to the story? Like the Dunmer children (they don't exist in the actual game) playing with dustballs. Like the fleshing out of Crassius' dialogue, ditto...

And it seems that the best writers on this forum - admittedly in my own, biased view - are Brits. Like Rumpleteaza. And You.

Thank you, Helena - long may you be the keyboard that launches a thousand quips!

Wow, thanks! As I mentioned before, I'm very new to Morrowind and the world of The Elder Scrolls, so it's great to know that people appreciate my writing so much. I just hope everyone else is enjoying the fic as well.

You are the one who wrote those nice Bastila-Revan stories and RGN's adventure!


I had no idea you were writing about Morrowind now!!!!!!!

Hey, another KotOR fan! Yes, that was me. I don't really write for the KotOR fandom any more - right now I'm far too busy with Morrowind - but who knows, I may go back to it some day. I still feel a bit guilty about leaving some of my fics unfinished.

!

There is always Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Baldur's Gate or Jade Empire left.

???



I've played Mass Effect. I may get around to some of the others one day, in the unlikely event that I finish my current fic before reaching the age of 80.

Nice, but make sure you spell Nerevarine right.

Are you sure you really read this?