She stopped and turned around, now trapped on the rooftop of a building with nowhere to go but down. Behind her, Inspector Trudal approached cautiously with two of his best archers beside him.
“Don’t try it, Ra’Jirra. The arrows are poison tipped. Just come in and we won’t treat you harshly.”
“I’m sorry, Inspector,” she said, putting her hands to her sides in an expression of hopelessness. “I know too much.”
“Wait! Ra’Jirra, DON’T!”
But then she dropped over the edge. The Inspector and his men rushed to the edge, but on the stones below lay the body of the famous Elsweyr spy, a dark pool of blood staining her once beautiful hair.
They ran back through the building to street level, and the Inspector ordered his men to bring help while he waited over the body.
As soon as they were gone, two other men scurried away with the mattress as soon as the archers were out of sight, while the Inspector squatted over Ra’Jirra and lit a pipe.
“You better not get any damn ashes on me,” she said from under the matted hair.
“Ashes to ashes,” Trudal smiled, not looking at her while onlookers began to peer out of windows. “Besides, the dead can’t talk so shut the hell up.”
******************************************
A few hours later Ra’Jirra climbed out of her casket and onto the deck of the merchant ship after it was underway and sufficiently far from the shore to avoid any prying eyes. However, few onboard were khajiits and she had yet to meet another khajiit with that jet-black fur, so it wasn’t hard to guess who it was that stood at the stern, watching the shoreline disappear.
The dark face and orange eyes turned at her approach, and the sad face instantly changed to a smile when she saw her friend.
“Ra’JIrra!” she said, and embraced the spy tightly. For her part, Ra’Jirra returned the hug enthusiastically. Though technically enemies, the two couldn’t be more friendly after what they’d gone through a few months previously.
“Ko! I was so happy to hear they’d chosen you for this mission. It’s not your normal line of work as a cryptologist.”
“Nonsense. It’s practically the same thing. It’s all about encoded meanings. Communications, really. It’s just this time both sides are supposed to be being as open as possible.”
Ra’Jirra turned back to watch as the city of Rihad faded from view, it’s stinking atmosphere replaced by the unique and clean smell of salt water spray. This time she didn’t curse the city, and wondered if reverse psychology would work on Karma.
“Miss it already?”
“What, Hammerfell? Yeah, a little. But a secret diplomatic mission to Elsweyr – how exciting! So what are you doing onboard?”
“Getting buried actually. Things were getting a little hot for me lately. Somebody in the Dominion really has it out for me. So, with the help of your Inspector, we staged my death.”
“Oh! So, you’re dead right now?”
“That’s right. Sorry, but you’re talking to a corpse.”
“An awfully pretty corpse, I must say,” Ko’Manir said, wrapping her tail around Ra’Jirra’s thigh.
Ra’Jirras eyes shot to Ko’Manir’s with feigned anger. “I swear, if you say ONE WORD about necrophilia, this isn’t going to happen!”
Ko’Manir laughed and they retired to Ra’Jirra’s cabin to celebrate their reunion privately.
“So, you’ve been to sea before I assume?” Ra’Jirra asked later.
“No, this is my first time. Why?”
“It’s just unusual. You’re not afraid of the water, and you’re not seasick yet. That’s uncommon for us khajiits.”
“Oh, you give me too much credit, Raj. Hammerfell has created a potion that I took before boarding to help with the seasickness. As for water,” she shrugged. “Never bothered me.”
“Dammit, does Hammerfell always have to be two steps ahead of us?”
Ko’Manir smiled and teased Ra’Jirra intimately. “Sorry, Raj – but if we weren’t, your government probably wouldn’t have made this overture to us, secret though it is.”
Ra’Jirra giggled and pushed Ko’Manir’s hand away. “That’s so, I admit. If the Imperials knew we were in talks with you directly…”
“Let’s see that they don’t find out.”
*****************************
The funeral was quite touching actually, though honestly Ra’Jirra couldn’t understand why they bothered. But, she supposed, one never knew for sure who was working for whom in her line of work. She thought the flag draped coffin was a bit much, and had to wonder just what was in the body bag that slid out from it into the dark water below.
“So, are you going to adopt a new name or something?”
“Oh, you know, whatever the HMSS comes up with. But what about you?”
“Well, one more khajiit on a voyage to Elsweyr isn’t really likely to raise much suspicion.”
“Will I see you once we’re there?”
The dark khajiit shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Will you be in Torval long?”
“Not likely. This subterfuge isn’t going to hold water long. I think they’ve got something planned for me, though what it is I haven’t a clue. “Need-to-Know” and all that. What about you? What’s got Hammerfell so bothered that they sent an emissary to Elsweyr now?”
“Ra’Jirra, you’ve got to know that such information is of the highest secrecy.”
“No problem. I understand…” Ra’Jirra began, but Ko’Manir motioned to the hammock and they climbed in together.”
“You suspect ears in the walls?” Ra’Jirra whispered.
The hammock was made for a single body, but the two found it was actually quite comfortable for two if they didn’t mind being piled right on top of each other. Oddly the swaying of the ship through the ocean was comforting in the netting, rather than a constant strain to keep balanced.
“Not really, I just wanted to get close to you,” Ko’Manir whispered back. “But you can’t be too sure. Did you read about a Hammerfell ship that disappeared a week ago?”
“I did. The story did sound awfully vague.”
“This time not due to secrecy. The last time it docked was at Haven in Valenwood. It’s destination was Morrowind, but it was never seen again. We suspect the Imperials intercepted it somewhere around the mouth of Topal bay and sunk her.”
Ra’Jirra rolled her eyes. “Now look Ko, I know you guys think the Imperials are demons from the lowest depths of Oblivion, but really, why on earth would they want to sink one of your ships? Why even we have a more powerful navy than the Imperials!”
“For now, that’s true. But that ship held some new technology that, in the right hands, could change the naval balance of power forever.”
Suddenly Ra’Jirra became a lot more interested. She stopped teasing Ko’Manir’s ear.
“I can’t go into details, but we have reason to believe the Imperials have their own ship, with similar technology now. Ra’Jirra, if they sunk our ship, that is a clear declaration of war. No amount of diplomacy will stop it this time.”
“And you need allies.”
“Elsweyr occupies a key position beside the Bay of Topal.”
“Black Marsh…” Ra’Jirra began, but Ko’Manir interrupted her.
“Argonians. You know no one can negotiate with them. They’re… inscrutable. Who knows what their goals are? The only good thing is that the Imperials will do no better with them. They’re fiercely independent and protective of the Marsh. There’s no way they’d let Imperials or Redguards establish any significant military presence there. But Elsweyr…”
“I see. Well, look, I’m just a tool of the Mane of course. I have no influence at all over politics or allegiances. But your help with my little subterfuge will certainly sway some at least.”
Ko’Manir stroked Ra’Jirra’s long hair. “I’m afraid, Ra’Jirra, that there was actually some talk about moving that mattress at the last minute.”
Ra’Jirra’s sighed, “I’m not really surprised. But there are times you have to trust your gut and accept the risk, you know?”
“I know,” Ko’Manir said. “Were they getting that close?”
“Close enough I couldn’t do my job.”
“Ra’Jirra, can I ask you a tough question? Don’t answer if you feel you can’t.”
“What?”
“What would you do if you were ordered to kill me?”
Ra’Jirra shook her head. “Wouldn’t happen. I’m not an assassin, Ko.”
“You’ve a license to kill.”
“Doesn’t mean I get paid to. That’s not my job, Ko. But if you really must know, I’d require a damn good reason. If I received such a reason, well, I’d miss you.”
The noise was not deafening, but it was constant, and after a week it was driving her insane. Wears-Only-Ropes had been sailing on ships her entire life, starting as far back as she could remember, fishing with her father around the Marsh. Later she got a job aboard an Imperial vessel along with a crew of other argonians whose primary duty was patching and repairing the craft that seemed to be constantly in a state of disrepair.
It had been many years since those days, and she was now very proud of the fact that she had recently become the highest ranking argonian in the Imperial navy as Boatswain. Technically one of three argonians holding that post in the fleet, but the point was that she had risen to the top. It actually didn’t bother her that she couldn’t expect to rise any higher. And, of course, being the Captain’s part-time lover didn’t hurt matters.
There was a contingent of other argonians aboard ship of course. Their ability to breathe underwater made them invaluable. Every Imperial vessel of decent side had their contingent of ‘lizards’, and though an argonian could not assume a licensed rank in the Imperial navy, their human shipmates were far less racist towards them than any land-dwelling human. After all, when your life may well depend on a lizard coming to your rescue, you quickly develop a quite friendly relationship with them. Close relations were not uncommon, but in the freewheeling life of a maritime crew-member, relationships were fluid.
For their part the argonians rather liked their human officers and shipmates too. Sure, she had sat in on many an all-argonian meeting where they noted how lazy the humans were, but even the most racist of argonians had to admit that the humans took that inherent laziness and turned it into an asset, creating the most ingenious devices she could imagine just to save themselves a few more drops of sweat.
But the constant, never ending noise was getting on her nerves – and not just hers, nor just the argonians – even her human shipmates were getting just as bothered by it. True, it did cut back significantly on the amount of work they had to do, no longer having to hoist sails except as an exercise and for practice, and true it did move the ship noticeably faster through the water on average. But it had made the two crow’s nests a very popular spot for sailors who had been able to take a break. The added distance between them and the ‘engine’ was a blessed relief.
She looked down now from one of those and saw the Captain far below. She smiled inwardly. Their relationship was an open secret among the crew, though she did take some verbal jabs occasionally from both humans and argonians. She suspected he did not. No one jested with the Captain. That was a sure way to get yourself kicked off a ship, and this crew was undoubtedly the best. No one wanted to leave this group. Even Wears-Only-Ropes knew better than to disrespect her Captain, no matter the situation. Only in the complete privacy of his quarters could she let her guard down, and the same for him. Away from the ship he had other lovers, as did she for that matter, but that didn’t bother her in the least. Here, he was her Captain, and that was enough.
Everyone knew he was merely human and as fallible as any other, but on the open ocean one did not question his authority. An argonian may be able to breathe underwater, but the sharks found them just as tasty as the humans. No, once out at sea, the Captain was a demigod, to humans and argonians alike, and only to be treated like a mortal in those quiet moments alone.
So last night she’d been happy to be called to his cabin again. Afterwards, with their lust sated, they lay together feeling the constant swaying of the ship. But the ‘engine’ still thrummed over all.
“Can’t we just shut it off for an hour or two?” she’d asked him quietly. “The mates would really appreciate it.”
The Captain sighed. “You know our mission. We’ve got to run it the entire distance. It’s the Virginian’s maiden voyage and we have to test its limits. If it overheats or breaks down in some other way, we need to know. But for now we keep under steam.”
“Easy for you to say. You can wear those damn earplugs. We can’t plug our ears!”
He turned to her and kissed her tympanum. It tickled.
“I know. I’ll ask the engineers again if they can do anything more about the noise.”
She sighed, but thanked him anyway.
And now she watched him below. The engine was just as loud as ever. But it was chugging them along. There were times when the wind could have moved them faster, but those times came and went. She felt the wind blow across her face and turned forward. The familiar coastline of the Marsh was somewhere off to port by now, though they were much too far out to sea to actually see it. It may have been her imagination, but she felt like she could smell it faintly. The humid, dank and slightly sulfurous air that she had grown up in, just ever-so-slightly touching her snout. She flared her nostrils, trying to draw in that smell of home.
Then something caught her eye. A line. A straight line in the water. That was very, very strange. The ocean was organic and constantly changing. Out here, nothing was straight. Nothing at all. Yet, from slightly ahead and to port, something was making a perfectly straight line in the water. She looked closer and could barely make out something just underwater that seemed to be causing it.
The line was coming fast. And suddenly she realized that at its current rate and at the ship’s current vector, the two would intersect. Soon.
Her eyes grew wide. She didn’t know that this was a danger for certain, but she knew it was far too unusual. In the wild open ocean, you took no chances. She looked down at the captain far below and called an urgent code to him.
She saw him look up and she pointed out to sea towards the line, approaching nearer with every second. The word she used wasn’t accurate, but it would give the proper warning.
“LEVIATHAN!”
Monsters of the deep certainly existed. Anyone who had spent as much time as she had at sea had seen them at some point – huge beasts of wildly different shapes and temperaments. But this was like nothing she’d ever seen. Small, but wickedly fast.
She saw the Captain order the ship hard to starboard and she felt the rudder turn as the crow’s nest bowed the opposite direction as the large ship slowly swung about, but from her vantage point she could see that it wasn’t going to be enough. The lines would intersect only slightly farther apart than they would have otherwise. She had just enough time to wonder if they could have turned faster if they’d been under sail rather than relying on that damned engine.
And then the lines met and she was thrown from the crows’ nest like a toy as the entire ship became one massive ball of flame. She managed to hit the water at a decent angle at least and felt her body go deep, deep underneath with the speed of her fall as the water itself grew cold at an incredible rate. After what seemed like minutes, her descent into the dark sea finally stopped and she righted herself and began to swim back to the surface. No human could have survived that depth, and she knew the other humans that had been with her in the nest had perished – either by burst lungs if they’d managed to pierce the water at a decent angle, or by the simple impact of a high distance fall onto water at a bad angle. Without the proper angle, water might just as well be stone. Some could survive, but the likelihood they could still swim was low.
When she surfaced, she was hundreds of feet away from the wreckage. She swam towards it, but by the time she got close to where it had been, whatever remained had sunk.
She passed body upon body, blackened and dismembered, and knew the sharks would be here soon. She had to get out of the water before the blood attracted them in earnest. She found a fairly large chunk of planking that she wriggled on top of just before the frenzy hit. From that point until nearly dark she didn’t dare to move a muscle. The sea became a froth of sharks and other meat eaters from the deep. Any movement would attract them and the little plank she clung atop would be less than a toothpick for the majority of the beasts.
Neither human nor Argonian could have survived that. The sharks ruled the oceans once blood was spilled. Yet amazingly night began to fall and she was still alive. The water began to calm down as the last of the carnivores and their meal was devoured.
The sun had not quiet yet set when she risked sitting up. The original wreckage was long gone, sunk to the bottom, unfathomably far underneath her. But she could read the stars.
And then, far away but undeniably there, she saw it. The mythical beast. Leviathan. It’s shiny carapace reflected the last light of the sun weirdly. It was only there for a brief moment, and her position low on the rolling seas didn’t help her to fix a definite size to the thing, but it looked monstrous and she ducked back low, fearing it might see her. Finally, when it had gone and she felt confident the sharks had gone as well, she slipped into the water and began to swim north, towards Black Marsh.
“No, you made the right choice,” Em said. “Like you’ve said before, we may be working with Hammerfell someday. I doubt she would yield much useful information without torture anyway.”
“And we don’t do that… right?”
“Not anymore, more’s the pity,” Em said and Ra’Jirra shot him a look. “Oh of course not. We’re civilized. Mostly.”
“So where’s Queue?”
“Oh, he was going to be here, but that rifle has caused quite a stir down at the technology lab. They’re working on a steel model now.”
“Good. I have a feeling that is a lot more important than the decryption gadget would have proved anyway.”
“I agree. So, ready for your next assignment?”
Ra’Jirra shook her head. “I need at least a week off. I’ve got to head to Skingrad.”
“Oh. They’ve already been notified of course.”
“Of course. But they haven’t talked to me about him yet. They need to know everything.”
“Everything?”
“Em, they lost their husband and father. They deserve to know.”
“Okay. We offered them a pension, but the wife refused it.”
“I’ll talk to her. She’s probably none to happy with the HMSS right now.”
“Do that, Ra’Jirra.”
A few hours later and Ra’JIrra had packed for travel and was out of town again, riding Arrow northbound.
*****************************
Number 1 was seething.
“And you haven’t even heard from her Number 5?”
“Not since she left Hammerfell. But the device only works at certain precise locations.”
“But Ra’Jirra is alive. If she does turn up, turn her down!”
“We may do that.”
“What?”
A knock came at the door.
“DAMMIT I’m in a MEETING!”
A figure walked through the door. Not the secretary.
“Number 2?” said Number 1, standing in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the Imperial City.”
“Change of plans. I got wind of this Ra’Jirra affair. I hurried back here in all haste.”
“Ha! You came for nothing. She’s back in Elsweyr. La’Dasha failed.”
Number 5 approached the desk on the right. Number 2 on the left.
“I heard that too. We lost quite a lot of assets over this. La’Dasha only one of them. And she was our best field chief. Hammerfell is not happy with us either. It seems they think they were set up and that we killed one of their own men. Is that so?”
“Yes. It was supposed to be a frame up. Ra’Jirra and the other agent for HMSS should have been arrested, but for some reason the local chief of security didn’t buy it.”
“And, is it true that our prototype rifle was used? And lost?”
“Yes,” Number 1 said, stepping back as Number 2 approached uncomfortably close.
“That’s an awful lot of assets to use to bring down one khajiit agent, don’t you think?”
“I deemed it necessary. I am Number 1. Don’t you forget your place, Number 2.”
“There are those who believe this may have been a personal vendetta, Number 1. They say you have not been a model of Altmer dispassionate reason on this matter.”
“Who says that?! Look, I have reason to hate this particular agent, it’s true. But if this had worked as intended, she would be out of the picture and Hammerfell would be at war with Elsweyr!”
“Earlier, you made a mistake I’m afraid. You referred to my colleague here as Number 5.”
Number 1 looked at the man known formerly as Number 5.
“Yes? What of it?”
“He is now Number 4.”
The man formerly known as Number 1’s eyes opened wide. “But…”
“You asked who said these things about you… the answer is, a majority.”
Number 4 pressed the button under the desktop. A magical energy field leapt to a spring loaded lever and the door opened instantly. The Altmer formerly known as Number 1 fell through without a sound. Until he hit the bottom. At that point, he began making quite a bit of noise indeed. Enough to rouse some other residents of the place he now occupied.
A glass cover swept over the gaping hole in the floor and the two Altmer watched for a moment. Then Number 1 pushed another button and a tile took it’s place, covering the viewing portal.
“A distasteful display. Do me a favor, Number 4. Leave the trap door, but please remove the glass. I’ve no interest in watching such barbaric scenes.”
“I will have it done right away.”
Number one sat in the chair, but stood again.
“And pray, get me a smaller chair. This thing would fit a pig.”
In the end, it turned out Queue was a off a little bit. It wasn’t instantaneous, but it was effective. In fact, he had time to utter one world before he slumped to the floor.
“NO!”
It took another 10 minutes before Ra’Jirra managed to free herself, and another 10 before Ko’Manir came around.
“Come on,” Ra’Jirra said, rousing her. “We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t think there’s any more, but we can’t be sure. Let’s get back to the caravan and get our horses.”
She grabbed the briefcase and wrapped the rifle up in blanket before leaving the house. They hurried out of town and Ra’Jirra paid the horses’ owner in gold before they were off. She told Ko’Manir as much as she dared without revealing what she now knew about her.
They were stopped at the border, but waived on through before night fell. They kept riding – only stopping to rest the horses. Finally they arrived in the Elsweyr city of Riverhold, where they stabled the horses and retired in a relatively upscale hotel, though it couldn’t hold a candle to the Pendant. Labor wasn’t cheap enough in Elsweyr to have people manning the doors.
Ra’Jirra looked at the single bed and back to Ko’Manir.
“Want to make another mistake?”
“Only if we can take a bath first. I’m dusty and I stink of horse.”
“No private baths here, but I did see a hot tub in the back.”
Ko’Manir moaned, “Damn. I don’t have any swimwear. You got anything? That would be perfect.”
Ra’Jirra just smiled. “You’re in Elsweyr now, Ko. The bad news is you’d better stop using the first person pronoun when you’re speaking Common. Good news is you’ll find some standards are a little more relaxed here than Hammerfell. Bring a couple towels and we should be good.”
At last Ra’Jirra lowered herself into the hot tub. It was late and there was no one around, but the manager assured them it would be okay. There were certain advantages of always being at least somewhat dressed in fur.
“Oh, that feels good.” she said. “I never knew riding a horse could be so tiring!”
Ko’Manir just sighed in agreement
“Ra’Jirra… before we make another ‘mistake’, I think there’s something I have to tell you.”
Ra’Jirra shook her head. “It can wait till the morning.”
“No,” Ko’Manir insisted. “I don’t think it can.”
Ra’Jirra rose and waded over to Ko’Manir and kissed her in the khajiit manner. “Ko,” she whispered. “It can wait.”
Though perhaps less adventurous than their night at the hotel, nonetheless Ra’Jirra enjoyed every minute of it – even if their thighs were exhausted by the heavy riding through the day. They fell to sleep in each other’s arms, and Ra’Jirra made sure there was no talk of assassins, politics or allegiances that night. All that could wait for the morning.
Ra’Jirra awoke to a knock at the door. She turned to Ko’Manir who cracked a single eye. “You order anything?”
“Not me.”
Ra’Jirra got up and draped a towel around herself. “Who is it?”
“Breakfast,” came a voice from the other side and she peered out the little hole to see a khajiit in a maid’s outfit with a covered dish.
She opened the door and the maid set the dish on the table, revealing a fine breakfast of eggs and ham.
“Complementary,” she said and turned to go. Ko’Manir looked at the food as if she was ravished.
“Wait,” Ra’Jirra said as the maid reached the door. Don’t I know you?”
“I doubt it,” the maid said, and immediately Ra’Jirra shouted, “First person singular! Ko’Manir! She’s an agent!”
The maid spun around and slammed the door closed with her tail, brandishing a knife made of Dwemer metal from a special holder in her belt. The poison practically smoked from it as she attacked Ra’Jirra with full and unexpected fury.
Ra’Jirra caught her hand with both of her own, but the agent switched the knife to the other hand quickly and continued her attack. Ra’ Jirra managed to shove it aside at the last second, but it was quickly coming around again. Ra’Jirra lashed out with her legs and sent the maid flying, the pale face coming into full view as her maids cap flew off.
“La’Dasha!” Ra’Jirra said, remembering where she’d seen her before, but the khajiit was readying the poison blade to throw it and Ra’Jirra realized that unless she managed to duck it completely, she was likely dead. But there was no room. They were too close.
The thunder came and La’Dasha fell back, the knife stabbing her leg as if for a coup-de-grace. The shot had been wide and only left a graze on her shoulder, but the khajiit stared at the knife upended into her thigh.
She looked at Ra’Jirra as the life left her quickly. “You.”
“You’re a dead woman, La’Dasha. Ra’Jirra said, taking the gun from Ko’Manir. “Is there anything you want to tell me before you go?”
The khajiit smiled weakly. “I failed,” she said, breathing out slowly. “But I’m still prettier than you.”
And then her eyes closed and she didn’t inhale again.
The manager and two other employees came rushing into the room, shoving the lifeless body away from the door in their haste. Ra’Jirra explained as best she could, but they insisted on calling in the local police. They arrived a short time later, but the the evidence of the poison knife, along with its ichor-laden belt holder was too convincing for any argument and they were released before the day had gotten late.
They sat outside the hotel on a little patio in rocking chairs side-by-side, while their horses were rounded up from the stable after they were released.
“So,” Ko’Manir said, turning to Ra’JIrra. “On to Torval?”
“For me, yes. But I don’t think so for you. Unless you really have parents in Corinthe.”
“Of course…”
“Sorry, Ko, but it’s time to cut the shit. That guy back in Kvatch told me a lot more than I let on… about you.”
“Did he?” Ko’Manir asked. Ra’Jirra could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Can I salvage anothing from this? How much does she know?”
“Relax Ko. You’re free to go back to Hammerfell. Hell, you can take your damned device with you for all I care. I know it’s worthless now. You’d planned this well in advance and already have all your agents using new codes.”
Ko’Manir looked as if she was about to protest, but then thought better of it.
“Wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s got a failsafe. A crucial part will have melted by now. You know? And you’re letting me go?!”
“How much was true, Ko?”, Ra’Jirra asked, ignoring the question.
“Not much,” she admitted. “Though I have been following your adventures. I do admire you as much as I said. The rest… Sorry.”
“That first night…”
“I spiked your drink. It’s quite effective on khajiits. Makes us horny as hell.”
“Dammit Ko. What about last night? Was that for real?”
“That was for real. Actually, the first night was too. I didn’t need any spiked drink.”
“I suppose I should take that as a complement?”
“Take it any way you want. But i guess in the end, nothing good came out of this whole affair.”
Ra’Jirra smiled darkly. “Nothing worth lives, no, but… I still have something to take back with me. I have a friend. A long friend. I think I know someone who would be very interested in it.”
“They’ve left the city. Yes, he’s going after them. I don’t know why! Ask that damn Inspector Trudal. We left so many clues they should both have been in jail by now. Yes, don’t worry. I gave it to my man. He’ll make sure she sees it before he finishes her. Yes, I am. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get a good signal again, but no matter what, I’ll see that it’s done.
What? Look, you can take that damn scroll and shove it up your ass. Don’t threaten me. I told you I’ll make sure it gets done, and I will! Your threats are pointless. I don’t care if you send it to everyone at the whole damned Bureau. Oh…. yeah. I forgot about that. Can you cut that part out? I just don’t look good in pink. Hey, it’s not like I have my entire lingerie wardrobe with me! Well dammit leave it in then, I don’t care.
Just… can you answer me one thing? Why? We’ve spent a hell of a lot of money on this, and I might lose my man over it if we can’t get him paid. That’s a lot of cost for someone we’re just going to kill anyway. No, I’m not questioning his judgment! I’m just asking WHY?!
Okay. No, I understand. When it’s done I’ll send a full report and you’ll see we followed the plan to the letter. Alright. I’ll contact you again as soon as I am able. Yes. Goodbye.”
***********************
The caravan began to depart before first light and a khajiit called from outside to wake them and to pack up the tent. Ra’Jirra felt Ko’Manir uncurled herself from around her.
“I must be getting soft,” she said to herself as she got dressed. “I’d only known the guy a few days. Why do I care so much? Is it because he has a family that are waiting for him?”
As if they would never stop, the tears came back again at the thought. They are waiting on a man who will never return, and I’m not going to be able to tell them for a long while.
Ra’Jirra and Ko’Manir had discussed the plan late into the night. Neither knew the man they were supposed to give the device to in Kvatch, but he would surely come to them when Sarosh didn’t show up at whatever designated place he’d planned. At least, she hoped he would. She really didn’t want to have to carry the thing all the way to Elsweyr if she could avoid it. She had the secondary objective in Ko’Manir herself, and splitting up the objectives would increase the likelihood of success of at least one. However, she’d decided to leave the caravan before Skingrad and instead travel alone with Ko’Manir to Elsweyr directly from Kvatch. Someone had been anticipating their every move, and it was time to do something that was not according to any plan.
But her mind kept returning to the Dominion. Their shooter could have killed her, but he didn’t. He didn’t have to kill Sarosh, but he did. What was the connection? How did the Dominion fit in? Was he still out there? Would he kill Ko’Manir too? Worst of all, she couldn’t think of a damn thing she could do to prevent it. The khajiits running the caravan had found no one, and no one had come into the camp.
The ride on to Kvatch was slow, and Ra’Jirra insisted that Ko’Manir ride between her and one of the camels all the way. That meant a very slow ride with no chance of moving ahead and taking a break. But they reached Kvatch in the afternoon and Ra’Jirra walked with Ko’Manir into the city. No one stopped them, and she saw no one particularly interested in them. The HMSS agent that Sarosh had planned to meet was probably looking for him, not two khajiits. She hoped he’d at least told the agent who he was bringing. The service was notorious for only giving information on a Need-To-Know basis, and this might be one of those times.
Fortunately, it turned out the Agent had indeed been informed. Less than an hour after they’d sat themselves on a bench in the central park of the city, an Imperial approached them and sat down beside Ra’Jirra.
“You Ra’Jirra?”
“I am. We… lost a man.”
“Sarosh. Yes, I know. I tried to find him at the caravan. The khajiits told me something about it, but what they told me didn’t make sense. A ranged weapon without an arrow, bolt or even a stone?”
“Look, this isn’t the best place to talk. Perhaps…”
“Oh! I’m sorry. The name’s Faelian. Come with me, I’ve got dinner made. I live in a house just a little way farther into the city.”
The two stood and followed Faelian, happy to have a real dinner for a change after the meager food they’d eaten with the caravan.
The house Faelian took them to was small, but clean, in an older part of the city – a single man’s house.
“No family?” Ra’Jirra asked as she sat at the table with Ko’Manir while Faelian began preparations in the kitchen.
“Family? Oh, you mean here. No. No family,” he said has he brought out three glasses of wine.
“Here, a little something to get you started,” he said and went back into the kitchen.
“Ew. Bitter,” Ko’Manir said to Ra’Jirra after tasting the wine.
“Faelian, I think the wine may have turned,” Ra’Jirra called to the kitchen and tasted her own.
“Well, it does taste a bit weird, but I wouldn’t call it bitter,” Ra’Jirra said turning back to Ko’Manir. But Ko’Manir was just staring at her, eyes wide.
“Ko’Manir? Are you alright?”
Her partner didn’t move. She sat bolt upright, staring at Ra’Jirra.
“Ko?!” Ra’Jirra started to get up, but found she couldn’t move her arms or legs.
The Imperial named Faelian walked back into the room, rope in one hand, a wicked looking knife in the other. It was not a kitchen knife.
“Faelian?”
“Yes, Ra’Jirra. I am Faelian. But let’s let Romanov sleep, shall we?
He stepped to the khajiit and closed her eyes.
“What are you doing?!”
“In a moment. Ra’Jirra. Your paralysis will wear off in just a few minutes. Then I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But first…”
He began wrapping the rope tightly around her torso and the back of the chair. When he was satisfied she was trussed beyond escape, he severed the end of the rope with his knife. Ra’Jirra just watched him closely, but she was thinking all the while.
“Firstly,” he said, dropping the knife point-first into the table. She jumped a little at the sound. “I don’t think I’m who you were expecting. In fact,” he said, stepping to a closet nearby. “I think this is who you were looking for.”
The body of a man lay within it, his neck slit. Faelian didn’t leave the door open long.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“A good question. A damn good question. You see, I’m going to kill you when I’m done. Both you and your friend. So why explain all this to you first? It’s stupid, but it’s part of my contract. The party that hired me demands I explain everything to you first. My guess is that you pissed someone off, Ra’Jirra. Pissed someone very important off, and that someone doesn’t just want you killed. Hell, I could have done that days ago in that alley! No, they want you crushed first.”
“The alley. You’re the Dominion man. You killed my partner,” Ra’Jirra hissed.
“Oh, yes. That was me. Me and my friend. Would you like to meet my friend? Give me a minute,” and he stepped out of sight into another room.
Ra’Jirra tried working her hands and feet. They were tingling, a good sign, but she still couldn’t properly work them. He came back in, carrying what looked like a crossbow, yet there was no bow. Instead it was fitted with a long tube of metal beyond the stock.
“Say hello to my long friend,” he said, and pointed the business end directly at her head. He shoved it inside her ear, pushing her head to the side.
“A long gun,” she said. “I get it.”
He pulled it back, smiling. “Not quite. A rifle, they call it. It’s not just a bigger version of your little PUSS. The Dominion modelled it after your prototype, but they improved on it significantly. Inside the tube it has spiral grooves that set the bullet to spinning when it’s shot. That spin keeps the shot true, when wielded by someone with accurate aim. Me!”
“Why?” Ra’Jirra asked, though it was obvious he was going to tell her anyway. But the longer she played along, the more likely the paralysis would wear off.
“All for you, Ra’Jirra. All for you. You were supposed to be arrested for that. An international incident. We would have made sure you got out, mind you, but that would be the first blemish on your reputation. But somehow you avoided that. How did you manage that, Ra’Jirra? Just curious.”
“I happened to have met Inspector Trudal. There was, evidence that they hadn’t considered.”
“Ah. Dumb luck. That is the bane of any well conceived plan, you know. There’s always the factor of dumb luck that can’t be anticipated. The Dominion likes to plan things, but they never plan for that. Ah well, so it goes.”
“You’re… not a Dominion agent, are you?”
“Me? Hell no. I’m just an assassin.”
“What about her?” Ra’Jirra asked, indicating Ko’Manir. “How does she fit into the Dominion’s plans?”
“Oh, her? Oh, that’s a good one! You better sit down for this… oh, that’s right, you already are,” he said, pulling a chair back, spinning it around and straddling it backwards.
He was obviously enjoying this far too much, but time was her friend. Ra’Jirra was able to extend her claws and began rubbing the rope against them gently.
“First shock for you… she’s still working for Hammerfell. She was going to infiltrate your vaunted HMSS and send them back all she could on your methods. A mole in your own organization.”
Ra’Jirra nodded. It did make sense. “But what about the device? Surely they don’t want to lose that?”
“Old technology. They’ve already switched to a newer one. You can read all their old mail, good luck with that – they’ve already planned for it. It would do you no good.”
“But… if that’s all true, why did she…”
“Fuck you? Ah, that’s the beauty of it all, and where the Dominion gets involved. She really is fascinated by you. You’ve been her sole field of study for months. I think she really likes you, as an adversary. But the Dominion needed her to do something special. They passed the plan onto her superiors, who passed it on to her. You were drugged, Ra’Jirra. She slipped you a drug as powerful as these I slipped into your wine, but with a different effect.”
With that, he pulled out an odd scroll and held it before her. Her eyes went wide when she saw the pictures on the scroll. And it went on and on as he rolled it past her. Everything. Some things she didn’t even remember doing.
“Goddammit Faelian, I get it already. Did you get your rocks off to us? Put it away.”
“Me? No. My boss maybe did. I get off when I kill.”
“So you’ve got pictures of Ko’Manir and me. What’s the point?”
“The scroll will be released after your death. Your suicide, after you murder Ko’Manir specifically. They’ll find the scroll. She was blackmailing you with it, and you killed her, then took your own life. Such deviancy as what’s on this scroll… it could only end in madness.”
“Jeeze Faelian, it’s not that bad!”
“Of course not. But among some more conservative people it will be. And that’s the reason. After you’re gone, even the name of ‘Ra’Jirra’ will be a laughing stock, an embarrassment to the HMSS and to Elsweyr. The Mane will disavow your legacy. You will be forgotten, Ra’Jirra, as soon as the bad jokes stop.”
Ra’Jirra saw it now. Someone really had it in for her! Apparently that someone thought she gave a shit about her ‘legacy’. But it was time to try her gamble. She wasn’t going to get out of these ropes in time.
“Faelian… how much are they paying you?”
The eyes that were scanning the scroll with a lewd expression suddenly turned serious and shot to hers.
“Why?”
“Elsweyr will pay you more.”
“Ha! More than the fucking DOMINION?! Not fucking likely!”
“How much would it take for you let us go? Or at least just me?”
“And screw the Dominion? Oh, that would take a lot, cat. A hell of a lot.”
“I have a hell of a lot.”
For the second time their eyes locked. “How much?”
“Thousands. In my briefcase over there.”
She nodded where she’d left it. Gears started turning in his head. She could practically see them. Golden gears.
“What’s to keep me from just taking it then?”
“The lock. Unbreakable. They tell me that only with specific types of force could you ever get that thing open.”
“How many thousands?”
“They started me with ten thousand. Rihad is cheap and I didn’t gamble that much. There’s got to be at least 7000 left.”
“Now he’s considering it,” she thought. “He wants it, bad. But he won’t let me go, and he sure as hell isn’t going to flip on the Dominion. How can he get both?”
“I need to see it first,” he said. “If you’ve really got 7000 in there, I’ll join your HMSS. But I want a thousand per hit.”
“Consider it done,” Ra’Jirra said, knowing full well he was lying.
The assassin brought the briefcase over. “What’s the combination?”
Ra’Jirra awoke at dawn. Her head felt a little odd, but she chalked it up to the lack of sleep and turned to the jet black form of Ko’Manir. What had she been thinking? She knew nothing about this woman. It wasn’t her first time with a woman, true. She was beautiful and wild last night and Ra’Jirra obviously had wanted her too. But she was normally in better control over herself than that. Maybe she’d drank more than she’d thought.
And she wondered how much of Ko’Manir’s story was true.
She stroked the khajiit’s arm gently. “Ko, we’d better get moving. We’ve a better chance of not being seen if we leave early.”
Her lover turned over and smiled at her. It was nice to see her face in the light.
“Ra’Jirra. It wasn’t a dream.”
“If that was a dream, you’ve got some damn kinky dreams, kid.”
“Kid! I’m 23 years old. I’ve read your bio. You’re five years older than me. I’m hardly a kid!”
“No, sorry. You’re right. What did you bring with you?”
“Nothing. A little money, a notebook, and some travelling clothes.”
“Feel like a bath?”
“With you? Sure!”
“Okay, but only a quick one.”
An hour later was longer than she’d have liked, but it had been worth it. Well, she figured, after last night what could a little more hurt? She gathered up her own belongings after sending Ko’Manir out ahead of her.
The taxi ride out of town had been circuitous, but she wanted to be absolutely sure she wasn’t being tailed. At last she was satisfied and directed the driver to a spot near her true destination. Once there, she caught another taxi to deliver her to where the caravan waited. In fact, technically it had already started. She was one of a few stragglers, but there were still some camels for hire by the local khajiit merchants and she had her luggage stowed with one of them, and hired a horse for herself to ride. It was a smallish horse, and not terribly well trained, but she weighed little and it ran like the devil when she let loose of it’s reigns.
She kept the briefcase with her, but once she saw the camel and its rider were under way, she let the horse go to catch up with the main body of the caravan. The day was again blessedly overcast and hadn’t gotten too hot yet, but the feel of the wind through her hair had her laughing with joy.
“I think I’ll call you Arrow, my little friend!” she called to it in Ta’agra. It didn’t seem to mind, but it seemed to be having as much fun running at full speed as she was having. All too soon the she reached the caravan proper and slowed her ride. She looked back as she continued up the caravan and saw the city fading away behind her.
“Good riddance, Rihad, and I hope never to cross your border again!” she yelled at the stinking city and made an obscene gesture towards it. As soon as she did so, she regretted it. She’d probably sealed her fate that she would return.
She turned back to the caravan and squinted. A black horse rode beside a brown. Surely not…
But then she confirmed it. Who else would be riding a black horse, after all? It was Ko’Manir, and beside her rode Sarosh. She caught up with them quickly, then let Arrow cool down with a slow walk that still managed to move faster than the glacial pace of the pack camels.
“Ahoy!” she called and the two turned around and rode back to meet her.
“Ra’Jirra!” called Ko’Manir, smiling broadly.
“Nice of you to join us!” Sarosh said. “Romanov wanted to wait for you, but I told her you’d catch up soon enough.”
“Please, please Sarosh,” Ko’Manir said with a sour look on her face. “’Ko’Manir’ please? If I never hear that silly name again, it will be too soon.”
“Sorry… Ko’Manir,” he apologized. “So, any problems? You weren’t followed?”
“No. I took a hell of a route to make sure, but I’m sure I wasn’t,” Ra’Jirra answered. “But Ko… really? A black horse?”
She shrugged as they turned back to follow the caravan. “Don’t you think it suits me?”
“All too well. You know, black absorbs heat.”
“Ah, I thought about that. Can you believe it, one of the khajiit men gave me his headwear!”
“Better check for lice,” Ra’Jirra laughed,
“Well, besides that, it’s not too hot out with the clouds,” Sarosh noted.
“So how long do you think we’ll be on this slow train?”
“We should cross into Cyrodiil by nightfall. We camp overnight before heading on to Kvatch.the next day. I have a contact there where we can drop off the device. Then it’s on to Skingrad. I’ll be staying there where my family awaits. That’s the end of the line for the caravan, it circles back at that point. You and Ko’Manir will travel south from there to Elsweyr.”
Ra’Jirra looked at Ko’Manir who was smiling at her. She cringed a little. What was she thinking last night? She sincerely hoped the cryptologist wasn’t too infatuated with her. As much as Ra’Jirra did enjoy the previous night, it was a mistake. But what a mistake!
The landscape changed slowly but perceptibly as they continued eastward towards the Cyrodiil border. They’d been travelling north to skirt the wide Brena river. When finally the trail turned back eastward, the hard ground had turned into low grass and the river allowed them to ford it easily, still wide but shallow.
The caravan stopped on the far side of the river, and Ra’Jirra breathed a sigh of relief. Finally they were on friendly turf. They continued on some few miles before stopping as night came on. Her belongings were brought to her and she elected to purchase a tent for her, Ko’Manir and Sarosh which the khajiits erected for them – for a fee of course.
They sat outside the tent around a fire and spoke in low tones, what with other travelers and their tents pitched nearby. Sarosh was relaxed, knowing he would be reunited with his family soon, but Ko’Manir seemed tense.
Ra’Jirra spoke up, “So, Sarosh, what will you do now that you can’t go back?”
Sarosh shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll retire. I’ve saved quite a bit, actually. I could probably buy a small shop and go into business for real.”
“Well, if you do, let me know. Metalwork?”
“Jewelry specifically. I think I’d enjoy that. What about you, Ko’Manir?”
The dark head looked up from the fire, as if lost in her own thoughts. “Me? Oh, I haven’t thought ahead that far. I suppose I’ll have to work with the HMSS for a while. At least till they wring everything out of me they think might be worthwhile.”
“You don’t think that,” Ra’Jirra started, indicating the briefcase she kept always in sight, “that will be enough?”
The orange eyes turned on her. “Even now they will be notifying every agent they can to stop using it. At best it will be worthless within a few months. Messages already sent will decrypted, but that will only help for so long. The HMSS will want me to do more, but Hammerfell will make sure that the work I was doing is purged.”
“You sound like you regret your decision already,” Sarosh observed.
“No. I don’t regret it. But I can’t help having second thoughts. Espionage is such a fleeting business. Today’s enemies are tomorrow’s friends and vice versa. A few months ago Ra’Jirra was my sworn enemy, even though I still admired her. Now…”
“Now we’re friends,” Ra’Jirra said, taking her hand.
“Friends,” Ko’Manir repeated, and lay back on the short grass. “Are we?” she said to the stars.
“After last night, I certainly hope so!”
Sarosh looked at her, then back to Ra’Jirra, an eyebrow raised.
“Stow it, soldier,” she said with a smile, repeating his words.
“Yes SIR!” he said with alacrity.
“I think last night may have been a mistake,” Ko’Manir said, still not looking at Ra’Jirra.
Ra’Jirra turned to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “It may have been, but what’s done is done. I don’t regret it.”
“Not yet,” she said in almost a whisper.
“Enough of this,” Sarosh declared and stood up. “I’m off to take a piss. Who’s with me?”
“Well aren’t you suddenly a free spirit?!” Ra’Jirra laughed. “No, you go on. I don’t think I want to see that.”
Sarosh looked back to Ko’Manir who was looking at the stars and not paying attention, then back to Ra’Jirra. “No, I guess you probably don’t.”
“Hey!” Ra’Jirra said, throwing some grass in his general direction.
“Be right back.”
The two khajiits stayed quiet for a whilie. Ko’Manir broke the silence. “Do you know, the stars look exactly the same in Cyrodiil as in Hammerfell.”
“They do. I suppose from their perspective, there are no borders.”
“Do you think that could ever happen? No borders I mean?”
“Not in our lifetimes, no.”
“But someday maybe. Someday.”
“Perhaps,” Ra’Jirra said and moved next to Ko’Manir and put her arm around her. She didn’t think Ko’Manir’s wish would ever come true really, but she appreciated the desire anyway.
Suddenly the sound of a thunderclap rolled over the flat plain and someone screamed. Ra’Jirra leaped to her feet but put a hand to Ko’Manir’s chest when she stood up too.
“No. You stay here. Get in the tent.”
The dark khajiit didn’t protest. Ra’Jirra drew the gun from her pocket and ran in the direction of the scream. She found Sarosh a few yards away with a couple of the caravan khajiits, looking down at a dead man.
“What the hell?”
“He’s from Rihad. Secret police. He had me on the ground. Said he was administering justice. I think your Dominion friend…”
Then a second thunderclap was heard and Sarosh dropped to the ground.
“SAROSH!!!!” Ra’Jirra cried. She looked around desperately. The other khajiits had dropped to all fours, looking for the source of the sound. Yet even with the vaunted khajiit Night Eye, there was nothing to be seen. The plain was too flat and the sound had given only a vague clue as to its direction.
But Ra’Jirra wasn’t paying attention to any of that. She was holding her friend’s head in her lap, the red blooming from his side.
“Ra’Jirra… My family…”
“Sarosh,” she cried. “No. You can’t…”
“Tell them… I tried. And I love…”
“Oh Sarosh! No!”
And then he was gone. Ra’Jirra ripped open his shirt and saw the gaping wound. It was no longer flowing blood. The heart had stopped. The chest she had so recently felt so safe resting her head on no longer rose and fell. Sarosh was dead.
She cried then. She wailed the song of the khajiit into the sky. She kissed the face she had grown to love, as a friend. In other circumstances, surely as more. But he did not kiss her back.
“What was it?” she heard a khajiit voice whisper in her ear. She turned to see one of the caravan drivers squatting next to her, knives in both hands. “Are we under attack?”
She raised her head and looked out at the dark grassland in front of her.
“No. I don’t think so. Set a watch, but stay low. If anyone comes into camp, be wary of them. They have a weapon that can reach far – like an arrow, but even faster.”
“Do you know who caused this?” the khajiit asked, but he put a blanket over Sarosh’s body and she looked at him, tears still flowing but her face hardening.
“My ‘friend’,” she spat. She stood up then, daring the unseen assassin to take one more shot. She pulled out her gun and began walking towards the darkness. She walked in circles, trying to find the person who had killed Sarosh, but she found nothing and the thunder did not come again.
Finally she returned to her tent. The bodies had been taken away. Within, Ko’Manir was in one corner, a knife at the ready, but she set it down when she recognized Ra’JIrra.
“What happened? Where’s Sarosh?”
“Dead. A Hammerfell agent came for him and nearly killed him, but then a shot came out of the dark. Killed the agent. Then it came again, and killed Sarosh.”
“A shot?”
Ra’Jirra realized she wasn’t making sense to the frightened woman. She looked at the gun in her hand, and explained everything.
“Damn,” she thought. There had been no where to conceal the gun with this outfit on. She’d left it in the briefcase. She opened the door carefully, looking for tripwires. Inside the lights were off. She always left them on. She turned the switch on now.
She saw a black shape on the couch sit up.
“Would you mind turning it back off,” said a silky feminine voice and Ra’Jirra had to look twice to make sure it came from a khajiit.
“You Romanov?” she asked, but switched the light off anyway.
Two orange eyes glowed back at her from blackness.
“I am. But please, call me Ko’Manir. That other name is just what the humans call me. You could say I’m rediscovering my khajiit ancestry. As for the lights… call me paranoid. I can’t go back again, you see. I’ve burnt my bridges. If someone catches me here I’ll be executed on the spot.”
Ra’Jirra crossed to the mini bar. “Something to drink, Ko’Manir? They keep a good supply here.”
“Yes, please. Something warm. It’s cold in here.”
Her eyes adjusted to the low light quickly. Pouring a couple of drinks was no problem, but when she turned back, the black khajiit remained a dark place on the couch with two glowing eyes hovering. They blinked.
She handed a drink to the blackness. It took it with warm hands.
“Thank you. Yes, that is very good. I suppose you’re wondering about my motivation?”
“Actually, I’m more curious about how you came to work for the Hammerfell Secret Service in the first place.”
“It is a long story,” said the darkness, the eyes closing.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Neither am I. I can’t go home anymore. They’ll be looking for me. Can I stay with you?”
“There’s only one bed.”
Slitted eyes opened in the blackness, and for the first time, white fangs accompanied them. “I think that is all we need.”
Ra’Jirra downed her drink. “I… think I’ll have another. You?”
The black khajiit rose and took Ra’Jirra’s glass. “I’ll get it.”
As she crossed in front of the glass window, the moonlight shone through the sheer fabric of Ko’Manir’s dress, revealing the silhouette of an impressive figure under it’s gauzy folds. Ra’Jirra gulped. Obviously she’d been chaste far too long of late. If Ko’Manir was trying to seduce her, it was working too well. She looked away.
“You seem to know quite a bit about me, yet I know nothing about you. So yes, why don’t you tell me your story?”
Ko’Manir returned, handing her refilled drink to Ra’Jirra.
“I was born here in Hammerfell. Not Rihad, mind you, a small northern village. My parents tried to teach me Ta’agra and keep me true to the traditions of the khajiit, but I failed them. I demanded to go to school with the other children. Perhaps I suffered some discrimination there, but what of it? I also had good, good friends there. And I was good at school too. I excelled, you might say, especially at languages. I’ve always been fascinated with them, you see?”
“Except not Ta’agra?”
“Pah. Ta’agra is a gutter language. We limit ourselves needlessly. It’s only advantage is that our mouths form the words easily, but communication requires so much more, you see? And we are not linguistically challenged. We can speak other languages with ease. Yet we burden ourselves with that archaic language, the harsh siblants, the shrill cadence. I speak it just fine, but I choose not to. It is inherently limiting.”
“You’re passionate about it, I see. But go on. So you grew up here, I get it.”
“I did. But my parents did not stay, and I refused to go with them. I was… am… strong willed perhaps? But you, you are the same, no?”
A black paw darkened her arm. Ra’Jirra looked at it, then back at the two glowing eyes. She felt odd. Hot. But she didn’t push her away. “Some have said so. But go on. So you were left alone?”
“Oh no,” said the darkness and it shifted beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “I was not alone! I had friends, and I was nearly an adult by then. But I never left school. I excelled too much to go unnoticed by the professors. Scholarly khajiits are a thing unknown here, but I showed them that we are every bit as intelligent as they, if we try. I did try. And I surpassed them all.”
“So, you basically adopted Hammerfell as your home country?”
“They adopted me! Why should I not do the same? After I exceeded the backwater educators at my school, I was offered a very prestigious position at a government facility where they had me translating texts of all sorts. It was fun work, for a while. But I noticed the texts became less scholarly and more political in nature. They stopped being about history or ancient cultures, and became increasingly more stories from political publications from far and wide. I am not a stupid khajiit, Ra’Jirra. I knew what they were grooming me for. And I approved.”
“A spy?”
“No. I’d call it perhaps espionage, but the publications weren’t secret. At first anyway. But they became so over the years, and I found I was good at decrypting them. All languages have patterns in them, you see. If you can recognize the patterns, deciphering them becomes much easier!”
She was obviously getting into this, Ra’Jirra saw. She was passionate on the subject, and that passion was infectious. While it wasn’t Ra’Jirra’s own expertise, she could appreciate the other’s excitement at the subject. It was another kind of investigation, and any good investigator should feel of thrill of satisfaction when the object of inquiry is achieved.
“So you began to get into decoding,” Ra’Jirra suggested, but she was fascinated by the eyes and the mouth of the dark khajiit. She felt the warm paw moving gently over her thigh.
“And encoding. My superiors sent me to classes at the local university. You’d be amazed how much mathematics gets involved! I certainly was. But I stuck with it. Your dossier on me probably calls me a mid level cryptologist, does it not? But I tell you with complete sincerity that I am the best person they have in the field.”
“You’re also the humblest person I’ve ever met,” Ra’Jirra said, but her hand strayed on top of Ko’Manir’s and followed the long arm up.
“Oh damn. Well, it’s not bragging if you can back it up, right? Sorry, I get carried away when I talk about work. Anyway, I’ll get to the point. In some ways, I am just mid level, if that. They don’t trust me, Ra’Jirra. I’ve never given them one damn reason not to, but they won’t promote me. And I continue to learn. I’ve hit a glass ceiling, Ra’Jirra. And I know why. It’s not because of my sex, it’s because of my race. Well dammit, I know a place I can go where that won’t be a problem!”
“Elsweyr,” Ra’Jirra said, her eyes closing.
“Of course Elsweyr. And I can meet my parents again. They’re retired now, down in Corinthe.”
“Pretty place, Corinthe. Okay, You’ve convinced me. But why did you ask for me?”
“Haven’t you guessed by now?” Ko’Manir said, leaning close. “Ra’Jirra… you’re my hero.”
Ra’Jirra felt a the soft hand slip under her dress at the shoulder. It felt unbelievably good.
“I’ve read a lot about you, Ra’Jirra. More than just the obvious publications too. I began to seek out all I could. You’re a khajiit that has risen to prominence, if only to those few who know of such things.”
“Romanov…” Ra’Jirra said huskily. She found herself wanting this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. And yet, something bothered her. Something seemed wrong. But she couldn’t think straight, and she really didn’t care.
“‘Call me Ko’Manir’, please,” said the darkness.
“Liski… ahziss boqi” Ra’Jirra said, closing her eyes and opening her mouth. Another tongue found hers and she lay back against the couch, a warm darkness enveloping her.
“There are times, I must admit…” Ko’Manir said as she drew Ra’Jirra’s dress up over her head, “…when Ta’agra works best.”
And then the talking stopped. They retired to the bedroom shortly afterwards.
**********************************
“Did you get it all?” La’Dasha asked the Altmer.
He smiled back at her. “Every bit.”
The device he called a ‘camera’ was ingenious, though magical in origin.
“We are working with our best alchemists to devise a non-magical method, but for now this is all we can do,” he’d told her when he had arrived two days ago.
“Anything the lens sees will be recorded onto a scroll visibly. For longer recordings, we simply load in a longer scroll.”
“And your magic is sufficient?”
“We Altmer are the last to be able to retain the required mana, but yes. My stores will be quite sufficient for your needs.”
“They’d better be. We need this scroll. It will make a laughing stock of her. Why she hasn’t been arrested already, I don’t know.”
“Be careful, La’Dasha. You know I outrank you,” said the Altmer.
“Oh. Yes. Sorry. I just need to make sure this goes as planned.”
The Altmer shut down the camera and moved a lever.
“It’s over now. She’s fallen asleep.”
“Let me see!” La’Dasha demanded, and the Altmer drew a long scroll, tightly wound, from a spindle.
La’Dasha unrolled it and scanned the sequential images on it.
“Oh… Oh gods!”
“Yes, she’s quite the tiger, your little khajiit.”
“Wait… is that what I think it is?”
“What? Let me see…” said the Altmer, curious. “Oh yes, indeed it’s just what it looks like. The dark one has proven to be surprisingly adventurous for a desk agent!”
“This is better than I’d ever dreamed,” La’Dasha grinned.
“It… should suffice,” the Altmer said, taking the scroll back and placing it into a tube, then sealing the tube and handing it back to La’Dasha.
“My work here is done. I’ll be going. I find that outside of this hotel the environment is not to my liking. But La’Dasha.”
She looked up from the tube, wondering if she should risk viewing the whole thing when she was in private. But then she’d just end up hungry. “Yes?”
“You are aware, are you not, that the Dominion has… other such scrolls?”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t think we would risk this opportunity on an untested device, surely? But I’m happy to report that the test went flawlessly. Your scroll is on it’s way back to headquarters now.”
“My?… what?” Then she realized what he was saying.
“Oh yes. I don’t know, but I suspect that between the two recordings, yours was perhaps a bit more… deviant shall we say? But do not trouble yourself about that. I’m sure it will only be used to entertain some of our higher ranking officials. I hope to see you again soon, La’Dasha. Goodbye.”
And with that the Altmer packed up his gear and left her room – the room stationed directly below the penthouse suite in fact.
La’Dasha seethed. If they thought that recording her was going to work as blackmail, though, they were sorely mistaken.
She awoke alone. Sarosh had left a note nearby. She didn’t have anything to burn it with, so she made do with an alternate disposal method. It didn’t taste very good. Then she pulled on the shorts he had left her. They were much too big of course, and didn’t have a tail hole, but with a little work from her claws, she had that problem taken care of, and she cinched the belt tighter. She still wore his shirt and it smelled of him. She smiled at that.
She left the little hotel and found a taxi. Fortunately Sarosh had left some coins in the pockets and she got back to the Pendant without incident. Her door had been opened, but the maid service would have done that. Inside all was as she’d left it, and the device was still locked inside the briefcase in her closet.
She took yet another long bath. She was just about ready to get out when she heard a key in the door and the Inspector barged into the suite.
“Ra’Jirra?” he called harshly.
“I’m in the bath, Inspector.”
The man entered the bathroom without so much as a knock at the door.
“Washing the blood out?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“As a matter of fact, yes. I am. No thanks to you.”
His face began to redden. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t arrest you right now, cat!”
“Self defense. Is that reason enough? You’ll have to trust me on this, but I’ve got a hell of a bump on my cheek, probably a fractured thighbone, and if my friend hadn’t shot your thug, I’d be dead in an alley, with my skin likely adorning his living room as a damn rug!
“Oh hell. I can see the bump, and your eye doesn’t look good. But he’s not my thug anymore. I fired him this morning.”
“Like I didn’t know that. I think he was more pissed at that than his partner – and he was going to take it out on me.”
“We need to bring your friend in for questioning, Ra’Jirra,” the Inspector said, calming down when he saw the other side of her face.
“Not going to happen, Inspector. He’s left the city. And damned if I didn’t advise him to.”
“We can find him. Can’t have gotten too far yet.”
“Please don’t, Inspector. It was… necessary.”
“I believe you, Ra’Jirra. I do, though damned if I know why. But things are getting out of hand. This can’t go on. The two weren’t exactly chums with a lot of the other officers, but losing two back-to-back – and in the same place yet. I’ve got pressure from below, asking questions. I’m keeping a lid on it, or it might spark an outright declaration of war with Elsweyr.”
“Sucks to be you,” Ra’Jirra said, standing up. “Inspector, can you hand me that towel?”
The Inspector couldn’t help but stifle a laugh when he saw her in soaked fur. She was somewhat less beautiful when wet.
“Yeah, I bet you look like a hero of myth and legend in your bath,” she growled, snatching the towel from him. She made a point of drying her ass in his face.
“Okay Ra’Jirra. I get it. Don’t take this wrong, but…”
Rajirra turned around at the pause, drying her hair. “Yeah?”
“Get the hell out of my city. I don’t want to see you here next week.”
“The feeling is mutual, I assure you. I’ll be gone.”
“See that you are. And if there’s one more dead cop by your damn PUSS, you’re going to jail, international incident or not.”
“I read you loud and clear Inspector. But one thing. We just call it a ‘gun’.”
He nodded. “That is better,” he agreed. She saw him to the door and let him out.
She finished dressing, donning her most expensive outfit and spent some quality time on herself. This was probably going to be her last night at the hotel and she felt like going out in style. She certainly wouldn’t have a chance to dress like this in the caravan. While the new dress was in actuality less revealing than the black number she’d worn the other day, with all the openings in it, it didn’t look so. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her body looked delicious. Her face, not so much.
She rummaged through her bag and found a pair of oversize sunglasses. Though it might be a bit of a fashion faux pas to wear them indoors, they did cover her eyes and her cheek was barely noticeable. As a culmination, she spritzed on her best perfume that hinted slightly of citrus and left the room, restoring a new scrap of paper to the door jam.
Sam smiled when he saw her enter the casino. She sat at the bar and smiled back.
“Welcome back, Ra’Jirra. I hope you’re with us longer tonight!”
“I expect I will be. Any change in the tables?”
“Nope. About the same. Speaking of which, another of my special concoctions?”
“Yes, please – but not exactly the same. I like to mix it up.”
He turned back and started mixing a drink. “So what’s with the glasses?”
“I had a bit of a tussle this morning honestly. Got quite a shiner.”
“Oh? Can you even see those on a khajiit?”
She pulled her glasses off. “What do you think?”
“Oh! Ra’Jirra. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You should see the other guy!”
Sam laughed and brought her the drink. It was clear with specks of green. She took a sip. It was delicious, though not as fruity as the other had been.
“Very good. No need for that water, Sam. You mix a good drink.”
“You hungry?”
“Yeah, actually. Can you get me some chicken? Any way you like.”
“Will do. And the room in the back is always available to you.”
“Thanks. I’ll be over at the roulette wheel I think. If I don’t lose all my money before the food is ready.”
She sat at the table, nursing her drink and traded some gold coins for the little color coded chips they used as counters. A pale khajiit sat at the end seat, quite a beauty she had to admit. The bright blue eyes accented her nearly white fur, and she was bit curvier than Ra’Jirra, though her dress was much more conservative. Ra’Jirra felt a twinge of jealousy. Beside her sat a middle aged Bosmer, two Redguards that apparently were on honeymoon considering their closeness, Ra’Jirra herself, and right by the wheel sat a youngish argonian. The ball was spinning so she waited for it to fall.
33 Black. She saw the dealer – no, correction, the croupier put a glass indicator over the chips on that number. All three were black. He swept the other chips into a hole beside him, then counted the winning black chips out and slid them across the table to the other khajiit. Then he removed the glass indicator and everyone started placing their bets across the table again.
“Nice hit,” she said to the other khajiit. The other cat looked at her as if just noticing her for the first time.
“Nice glasses,” she replied, then went back to betting with the others.
Ra’Jirra took five chips and placed them on red. She won, but a bet on a single color only yields double and nothing if the ball stopped on 0 or 00. The actual number was 16, and the newlyweds, as she dubbed them, squealed as the glass indicator landed on one of their chips. Underneath their pink chips was another black one. The croupier payed off the couple and the other khajiit too.
“Damn,” said the gravelly voice of the argonian beside her. “I was going to play that.”
Ra’Jirra took her extra five chips and scattered them around the inner table at random, leaving the original 5 on red. The ball spun and landed on 0 – a losing number for everyone at the table. The croupier took all her chips as well as all the others.
A tap came at her shoulder. It was Sam. Her chicken was ready. She asked the croupier if he could save her place, and he moved her remaining chips to the side. She rose and went back behind the bar where Sam had left her chicken.
“Say, Sam. Who’s that pale cat at the table by me?”
“Oh her? Calls herself La’Dasha. She just arrived yesterday. Never seen her before that. Why, jealous?”
“She’s a beautiful khajiit, I have to admit,” Ra’Jirra replied.
“Not as pretty as you,” he said and Ra’Jirra hit his shoulder.
“Lay off the flattery, bartender,” she said. “I’m not blind, you know.”
“Well, okay. She’s prettier than you. Is that better?”
“No, actually. It’s not. Go back to the flattery,” she frowned.
“I like your sideboobs!” he offered as consolation.
She hit him again, but snickered at the same time.
“I’ll leave you to take out your jealousy on the chicken,” Sam said as he closed the door behind her.
**********************
She finished her food quickly and went back to the table. The argonian was gone, replaced with a young local. The honeymooners were still there and the khajiit lady had a large stack of chips in front of her. She’d been winning.
“What’s your strategy, La’Dasha?”
The khajiit’s eyes shot up, unexpectedly intense. “What do you mean?”
Odd.
“You’ve obviously been winning since I left. Do you have a strategy?”
The khajiit relaxed. “Oh. No. This one is just lucky today.”
“Damn touchy,” Ra’Jirra thought, then set her chips out in front of red again. She really wasn’t much of a gambler. The ball landed on 00 and again everyone lost. The pale khajiit lady stood, requested her chips be cashed in, and left the table.
“Sorry to be a cooler, guys,” Ra’Jirra apologized to the others at the table, but they were genial. She continued playing for some time, then went back to the bar. She saw Sam talking with the pale khajiit at the other side of the bar. Obviously there was no love lost between the two khajiits.
Sam came over to her.
“Can I get another?” she asked, rattling her glass.
“Sure Ra’Jirra. How are you doing?”
“Eh. Down a little. I guess tonight’s not my lucky night.”
“Sorry to hear that, but the table is legit.”
“So how are you doing with your new kitty friend?”
He smiled back at her but didn’t reply.
“Well, at least one of us will get lucky tonight. Say, Sam… I may be leaving tomorrow. If I don’t see you again, thanks anyway. Here’s a little something for your trouble,” and she put 5 gold coins on bar.
“It’s no trouble, Ra’Jirra. And good travels if so. If not, I’m here every night till midnight.”
“Got it,” Ra’Jirra said and returned to the table, but something had soured her on the gaming so she cashed in her chips and returned to her room.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You were supposed to follow her!”
“Dammit, I’m not one of your agents. I have a very specific skill. It’s my specialty and I’m good at it. But I’m not a spook. I’m not good at trailing people all over the damn city! And while we’re at it, we need to talk about my pay. My typical job is a quick hit and gone. This is taking a lot of my time.”
“Oh no,” La’Dasha thought. “I’m losing him.”
“How much do you need?”
“Depends. How long does this need to go on?”
“You know the plan. Once they’ve met it should be over quickly.”
“I want my normal pay, multiplied by the number of days this takes.”
La’Dasha made a quick calculation.
“I’ll have to go back to my employer. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“You do that.”
“But you think she got the device last night?”
“I think so. I didn’t see her come back last night, but she’s in her room.”
“I know that. Do you know where he is?”
“Yes. I trailed him last night to a small hotel. He’s there.”
“Stay on him. I’ll watch her.”
“Will do.”
“And Failian? I know this isn’t what you do. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while, okay?”
“Hmm. Next time, get a spook to do your legwork. Or do it yourself.”
**************************
The day was overcast. She had begun to wonder if it ever rained here. But even if the clouds didn’t produce, at least they would block the damn sun. She took a taxi to the restaurant they’d first visited and ordered breakfast. Sarosh showed up a few minutes later and ordered the same. The restaurant wasn’t completely empty, but there were few enough that no one was within earshot.
“And?” he asked over his dark chocolate.
She smiled. “Everything checks out.”
The Redguard’s face relaxed. “Told you so. I’m going to meet her today in person. There’s a caravan leaving for Cyrodil tomorrow morning, just west of town.”
“That should be perfect. Khajiits?”
“Mostly, but there’s plenty of other races too. Everyone prefers to travel in a group across the border. Raids aren’t common, but they still happen sometimes.”
She nodded. The ancient tradition of trading by caravan had still not completely died out for the khajiits, but it was fading. However, traveling in large groups still had obvious advantages. It wasn’t the fastest mode of travel, but it was the safest.
“One thing. Before we go, do you mind going back to that alley with me? I’d like to have one more look around.”
“Sure,” Sarosh said, downing the last of his morning drink. “Lead on.”
They got to the alley where the fight had been. It was deserted now of course. She saw the bloodstains at the back of the alley, pretty much just as she’d expected. Then she looked up towards the building on the left. Three stories. A pretty far distance.
“Hold these,” she said to Sarosh and took off her shoes and handed him her gun from where she’d kept it concealed, strapped around her thigh under her skirt. Her outfit wasn’t really made for climbing, but it would have to do. She hiked the skirt up over her hips and began to climb.
“Nice,” came the expected response. “But pink?”
“Shut it, soldier. You’re lucky I’m not going commando.”
“Am I?” Sarosh said.
She scaled the wall with ease, then stepped over the ridge at the top.
The roof was nearly flat – only a slight angle allowed the water to run off to the edge where it drained out. Pretty standard. It wasn’t yet too hot and the tar wasn’t sticky yet. She looked around and over the edge until she felt she was fairly sure she stood near where the gunman must have been. Then she looked around. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for. The footprints in the tar could have been from anyone, but they didn’t look very old. The tread was deep. New shoes. Probably human, though that was hard to be sure of.
And then something caught her eye. A small bit of metal shining a few feet to one side. She dropped to look at it before picking it up.
It looked like dwemer metal. Just a small cylinder, empty. She recognized what it must be instantly though. She pocketed it and climbed back down the wall.
She handed it to Sarosh.
“Dwemer metal for sure, but reworked,” he said definitively. “I used to do metalwork. This is impressively done though.:
“Do you know what it is?” Ra’Jirra asked as she put her shoes back on.
“Not a clue. Hollow. Looks like it used to hold something.”
“It did. It’s a shell casing for a bullet.”
“So it was a gun.”
“I don’t think there was ever any doubt of that,” Ra’Jirra said as they walked out of the alley. “But it’s not an Elsweyr design. We use steel.”
“Everyone does. Dwemer metal is getting hard as hell to find anymore.”
“It’s a sure bet Hammerfell wouldn’t use it. But everyone?”
“No! Not everyone. The Dominion.”
She nodded. “I think so.”
“What the hell does the Dominion have to do with this?”
“I don’t know, but…”
Suddenly something hit her in the jaw. Hard. Very, very hard. She went down, stunned.
Vaguely she was aware of shouting and a struggle, but everything was blurry. She tried to clear her head, but it was slow.
She saw a shape in front of her. It resolved into a face. One she recognized.
“Detective Royan,” she said, on the ground and still trying to shake it off.
“Ra’Jirra,” he said with spite. “How’s that jaw feel?”
It was more her cheek, but she wasn’t going to argue. She glanced to where Sarosh was laying on the pavement. She looked up and down the street. No one was around. The detective pulled her back into the alley, out of sight.
“You cost me my job, bitch. Killed my partner and got me fired. Feeling proud of yourself?”
“Listen, you gotta know I didn’t….”
He kicked her in the thigh. She let out a scream. No one answered, but the man looked around. He wasn’t sure. But then he pulled a blade out of his pocket.
“No one’s gonna help you now, cat. Looks like it’s just you, me, and my little cat skinner.”
The smile on his face scared her. But she still couldn’t get her body to work properly. She was helpless.
“I want to hurt you first, cat, but I haven’t the time.”
“I didn’t kill him, dammit!”
“Sure you did, cat. I was there. Remember?” he said and knelt on her chest. She tried beating at him, tearing at him with her claws, but it had no effect. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat.
It wasn’t the first time in her life she was scared to death. But it never got any easier. She struggled with all the energy she had, but he was too heavy and too strong. She spat at him, but he didn’t even stop to wipe it off. She saw the blade approach and she screamed as loud as she could. It didn’t even slow.
For the second time in as many days, a sound like thunder exploded in her ears. Unlike the last time though, she felt the hot blood cover her as the body thumped atop her, the knife clattering away.
She pushed him off with her hands, though they felt like clubs, but she was breathing hard and it wasn’t just due to the effort. She had expected to die, and she was literally shivering with fear. Her eyes were wild as she looked around. She saw Sarosh, struggling to stand, her gun in his hand.
“Come on, Raj. We’ve got to move!”
He got to his feet and managed to help her up. Her body was beginning to work again, but she was still trembling. She looked at Sarosh and then back to the body of Royan, then down at herself. She was a red mess.
They looked up and down the street. There were some people looking around a few blocks away, but no one nearby. Saroush helped Ra’Jirra take off her shirt and skirt, then put his own shirt around her. She fumbled at the buttons but couldn’t get her fingers to work right. Sarosh helped her button it up, then wrapped her old clothes inside-out so the blood wouldn’t show and they walked as calmly as they could back towards his hotel. Just a shirtless man and a khajiit in pink panties.
There was no one at the desk, so they went back to his room.
“S..same room?” Ra’Jirra asked.
He nodded. “Lay down Raj. You’ve had a tough morning.”
She did as he suggested, and he lay down beside her.
“N… no f..funny business,” she managed.
“No Raj. No funny business.”
She looked at his eyes. They were normal eyes. Not dark, not handsome. His face wasn’t chiselled and his hair wasn’t shoulder length. He didn’t even have any fur, unless you counted that fuzz on his chest. But right now, he struck her as the most handsome man she had ever seen. She kissed him, but he pulled away.
“Stow it, soldier,” he said.
“Sorry. I’m… a little overcome.”
“Yes, you are. Just relax, okay?”
“Thank you, Sarosh.”
“You’d have done the same for me, I’m sure.”
“The Inspector’s going to be pissed.”
“Yeah. Probably,” he said, but he put his arm around her neck and pulled her to him. His chest was hairy and he was still sweating from the fight. And yet, she did feel better.
“Ra’Jirra, I can’t stay in the city any longer. Once you’re better, I’ve got to go.”
She nodded. She had at least some immunity here as an unofficial representative of Elsweyr. He was a nobody. And now he was a murderer. Of an ex-secret police member. He did have to leave.
“The caravan?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ll meet you there. I’ll get the message to Romanov before I leave.”
Suddenly she relaxed, as if something in her head had finally relented from being tensed up for too long. Her eyes drooped and she stared blankly at his chest.
“Goodnight, Ra’Jirra. Sleep for a bit,” he said, and she did just that, feeling his chest rise and fall against her cheek. She felt… safe.
I’m posting this awfully soon after #4, but I’m inspired and writing a lot the last few days, so I’m going to keep rolling along! This is a pretty long one. I’d expected it to be 2 posts actually, but I’m going to go for 1.
As she approached the table, the three men seated rose. She smiled at their courtesy, and took a seat offered by a small man at the end of the table.
“Thank you. Nice to see some gentlemen still respect a lady.”
“Oh, certainly,” said the man. “We in Hammerfell do respect traditions. At least… most of us do.”
“So, what’s the game? If I’m going to lose my money, I might as well know the rules.”
“Hammerfell poker,” he smiled as she took some coins from a small purse. All were gold.
“It’s the easiest game there is. Bet and you get one card. Another round of betting and you get a second card. Final round of betting and anyone left turns their cards up. Highest pair wins, highest card if no pair. If players both have the same high card, second card counts.”
“Got it,” Ra’Jirra said and put down her bet. All three men called.
“So, what are you doing in town?” the man asked while checking his card.
“Leisure. I travel a lot for work, so sometimes it’s nice to have a vacation.”
“Ra’Jirra on vacation. That’s a good one,” he said quietly.
She looked down to see a knave. Not a bad card. She bet again. The man beside her called while the other two folded.
“Excuse me, do I know you?” she asked, not wanting to appear disturbed.
“I doubt it. The name is Trudal. Inspector Trudal. I happen to be the chief of security here in Rihad. But I know you.”
Ra’Jirra’s ears twitched at the name and title. Coincidence? Not likely. She looked down at a 9.
“Check,” she declared.
The man looked at her. She looked back. He placed two coins on the table.
“Fold,” she declared, throwing her cards back. “Oh?”
“Yes indeed,” he said as he stacked his winnings in front of him. “I saw your name in a certain publication, regarding a certain Imperial incident a few weeks ago.
“You do your homework,” she said, putting out another bet.
“So, how are you enjoying your stay? Meet any interesting people?”
“Actually, I have. I met a couple gentlemen just last night in fact.”
She saw him smile while checking his cards.
“Oh? Did you show them a good time.”
“They wanted to have a good time, but unfortunately one of them fell ill. Stomach ache.”
She bet two gold coins on her 3.
The Inspector folded, but turned to her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Ra’Jirra. They weren’t there for serious games.”
The man on the end called her and another round of cards was dealt. She got a 5.
“No. I didn’t think so. But I didn’t make it serious.”
“Come on, Ra’Jirra. We have our own ‘tourists’ too. You don’t think we know of your little toy? In a month we’ll have our own Puss.”
She raised 3 more gold coins and the man at the end folded. She turned up the bluff and took her winnings.
She pocketed the coins and rose from the table. “Inspector, can I have a word with you?”
He nodded and rose from the table, leaving his stack of coins. They retired to a quiet table away from any prying ears.
“I had nothing to do with it, Inspector,” she said. “The Mane’s truth. Ask your man where I was when it happened. He’ll tell you I was on the ground. Then check the blood. He was shot from behind. Jeeze, even a rank amateur could see that.”
The Inspector contemplated that for a moment. “I will. What are you really here for, cat?”
“That, you know, is none of your business.”
“Oh, it’s exactly my business. If your story checks out, I’ll call off the dogs. But you should know that it’s a tense time for us. Your actions can have consequences here.”
“That is between you and the Imperials. I work for Elsweyr….”
“Who are in bed with the Imperials,” the Inspector interrupted.
“Today yes. Tomorrow, who knows? I may be in your bed tomorrow. Just do your homework and don’t make assumptions. Your man was sloppy or he’d have known I didn’t pull the trigger. Look, I’m not dumb. I’m not here to cause any international incident. Don’t let your Detective Royan cause one because of his stupidity.”
This time it was the Inspector that was surprised that she knew his man’s name. Ra’Jirra took the opportunity to nudge him a little farther while he was off-balance.
“There was an explosion today. A friend of mine’s place was bombed. Could have gotten us both killed.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” he said defensively.
“Maybe you should. I expect you should ask your ‘detective’ about it.”
The Inspector nodded.
“Please, sir. I have the greatest respect for your work. If you can keep this city under control, you are a man of extraordinary ability. I’ll leave your city as soon as I possibly can. Just a few more days. I won’t cause any problems, unless you want them. If you do, there’ll be plenty.”
“See that you don’t. Tensions are high enough already. But if you didn’t do it, who did?”
“I don’t know. Honest I don’t. But I hope to find out. Shall we rejoin the table then?”
“I think not. I’ve got some things I need to check out. Goodnight to you, Ra’Jirra.”
“Good night Inspector. And… when the political climate changes…”
“As it always does. Yes?”
“Look me up. We might have some mutually beneficial opportunities.”
“I’ll do that, Lady Ra’Jirra,” he said and bowed to her. She did likewise in the Hammerfell manner. Then she left the casino and went back to her room. The paper was still in place.
“Whew,” she thought to herself as she deposited her coin purse back in the briefcase. “I think I’ve done my bit for International Relations tonight! I deserve a raise.”
A knock came at the door and she looked out the window. Dusk. Right on time.
She peered out the small hole in the door and verified it was Sarosh, then opened the door. He seemed excited.
“Are you alright Sarosh?”
“Fine. Look at this…”
She gestured to the bed and he sat beside her as she scanned some drawn pictures. The hand that drew them was quite precise. An engineer.
“Raj, she sent me this. It’s a layout of the security center headquarters. The device is there.”
“How’s the security around the building?”
“It’s decent, Ra’Jirra, but she has a plan. But it has to be tonight. She’s working late, but she’s in the office with the device. She will leave a window unlocked. If you can get to the window, you should be able to slip in, grab the device, and go back out the same way. The security is tightest around the front and back entries. The window is on the side of the building. How are you at climbing?”
She smiled and he didn’t need to repeat the question.
“Good. The building is made of stone though, not wood.”
“No problem. Anything short of glass I can climb. How far?”
It’s on the third story. Not too bad.
“Okay. What about you? Where are you staying?”
This time it was Sarosh that smiled. “Our favorite hotel of course!”
“That hellhole? Why there?”
“I have fond memories. Second time I’d ever seen a naked khajiit.”
“Hey, it was hot! I thought you slept through it.”
“A man’s gotta pee sometime.”
“Well alright. Listen, I found the name of the guy who bombed your place. A Detective Royan. But Sarosh, I think he has been dealt with. I had a little talk with an Inspector Trudal.”
“Trudal! How did you meet him?”
“He was at the casino tonight.”
“Here? Holy shit. What happened?”
“I pointed out that we couldn’t have killed his thug. And I don’t think he knew about your bomb. I expect Mr. Royan is going to have an interesting meeting with the Inspector.”
“I hope so. But I can’t stay here. If the Inspector was here, he’s bound to have some goons around the place. You know how to find me if you need me tonight, right?”
“Our little love nest. How could I forget it?”
“Okay. I’m heading back. Good luck tonight.”
“You too. Be careful.”
“I will.”
She shut the door behind him and sat back on the bed, committing the floor-plan to memory. Then she burned and bagged it, and put the bag in the briefcase. Then she got out her catsuit and a bag of ash.
*****************************************
Contrary to popular opinion, khajiits weren’t actually invisible when trying to be stealthy. But they’d perfected certain techniques that helped considerably. One was the catsuit. It was not black, and was not shiny – both were terribly bad choices when trying to not be seen. Instead, it was a dull grey and extremely stretchy. She’d had cutouts put in as a way to stay cooler though. Over it she wore a loose fitting blouse and shorts, and the cheapest shoes she had. She expected to leave them behind.
She had the taxi pull up a few blocks from the building, then walked around the block casually, eying the place. The fence surrounding it was tall but easily scale-able. However it blocked her view of the yard beyond. She saw guards at both the front and back entrances, but they seemed no more vigilant than most. She turned at the back corner of the block and slid into a darkened doorway. Then she pulled off the outer clothes, removed her shoes and dusted herself thoroughly with ash. It was easily obtained and did an excellent job of dulling her fur. Then she flexed her claws on both hands and feet. A few stretching exercises later and she was ready to go.
She waited for the street to be deserted between her and the fence. That took a while. The place wasn’t heavily populated at this time of night, but it seemed every time one person would turn the corner out of sight, another would pop out at the other end of the block. But finally the coast was clear and she raced on all fours across the street, leaped over the low shrubs lining the wall and scrambled up the side of the wooden fence. She dropped over the top immediately and sat on her haunches watching for any signs of alarm.
Nothing came. The guards at the front of the building were still maintaining their posts, and she could see no one at the back. She waited, to be sure. No dogs or similar watch-beasts were seen either. The ground between her and the building was maybe fifty feet, and lighting was dim. Perfect.
When she finally felt that nothing was laying in wait, she again raced on all fours to the wall of the building and stopped. She waited for her breathing to return to normal, though she was controlling it so she made no sound anyway. While waiting, she checked the stone wall. It was vertically true, the stones uneven in shape. There were no regularly spaced breaks, but that was okay. They were rough enough to get finger and toeholds.
She checked both sides again. No guards in sight, and she began to climb, slowly. While of course it would be best to get up the wall as rapidly as possible, sudden movements always attracted more attention than slow, deliberate ones. In ten minutes she was past the second floor.
She heard a sound below her. A guard was walking the perimeter. He would pass directly below her. She carefully shifted her hold to a somewhat more stable grip that she could maintain and squeezed herself into the wall as best she could, not daring to look. Eye reflections were a dead giveaway.
The guard passed, ever so slowly. She watched him as he walked calmly, looking every direction including up at the wall. He must have looked directly at her at some point and still didn’t see her. That was expected. She was good at this.
Still, she didn’t move until he was completely out of sight. Then she continued her slow climb until she was just below the window. It had only the slightest of sills, but after her climb it was like stepping onto a huge platform. However she was most vulnerable here. She stood out like a grey ghost against the total darkness of glass. She tugged up on the window and it slid upwards – not noiselessly but quiet enough. She slipped in and lowered the window.
Looking around, the room was just as expected. This was someone’s office, and she wondered if maybe the Inspector worked here. She crept to the door and turned the handle slowly. Locked, but from the inside it was a simple turn of a lever to unlock it. The handle was silent as death, but the hinges weren’t. At the first sound, she stopped, removed a vial of oil she kept handy for just such a need, and anointed them. Then she slid the door open carefully. The squeaking stopped and she stepped out into a hallway – dark and deserted. She turned to the right, went down three doors, turned back to another hallway and came to a halt at the first door on her right. She tried the handle. It was locked.
She’d anticipated this though. Guards were trained to test the lock on all doors. Even if Romanov had left the door unlocked, a guard would have checked and locked it after her. She drew out her small tools and began to feel for the mechanism within.
It took her a good half hour to finally get it right. During that time a guard had entered, strolling through the hallways to check everything again. She avoided him easily, simply keeping two walls between them all the while. Before he would turn a corner, she would turn the other way. He executed no unexpected switchbacks, just followed the pattern of the hallways until he had completed each one. His jiggling of the door handles kept her always aware of where he was and she made no noise at all.
Finally he left, presumably to go check another floor and she returned to the door, remembered her last test and eventually the slightest of clicks was heard as the lock disengaged. She opened the door cautiously but this one didn’t squeak.
The device was precisely where indicated. A smallish box, apparently of Dwemer metal, though what she could see of the gears within appeared to be steel. There was no good way to carry it, though, short of some straps she had brought along for this purpose. The skin-tight catsuit certainly had no pockets.
She had been in the building no more than an hour, and she was on her way out again. Retracing her steps, she opened the window and stood on the sill as she closed it again behind her.
Now was her most vulnerable though. Invisible she may be, but the device – though not large – was metallic and shiny. She climbed down much quicker than she had climbed up. Again she stopped at the base of the wall, but this time the perimeter guard was approaching. She curled into a ball around the device, hiding her claws and tucking her head towards the wall. He stopped for a moment, and she prepared to attack. Then she heard a noise of liquid splashing against the ground. She risked a look, turning around slowly. He was pissing on the wall no more than twelve feet from her! She turned back away from him slowly and after what seemed an eternity, he finished.
“Impressive bladder,” she thought as she watched him continue to walk away after he’d passed her. Once he was out of sight, she uncurled and raced across to the fence, but she didn’t stop this time. The device was too obvious. Best to get over as soon as possible.
She made it over the fence with no problem and dropped behind the bushes on the other side. A passerby turned to look at what had made the slight noise, but he never stopped his strolling and she remained hiddent from his view. Finally he was out of sight and she was happy to find her clothes still where she’d left them. In a place like this, she would not have been surprised to see them stolen. This pleasant surprise would make the return to the hotel much, much easier!
She pulled the rag she had stuffed into her pants out and rubbed away the ash as much as possible. She put the device in a bag and walked calmly down the street the way she’d come, hailing a taxi as soon as she was able.
Finally she was back in her room. For the first time she breathed a sigh of relief. It had been easier than expected, but hopefully not too easy. She wanted to wash the ash out of her fur, but there was something else she wanted to do more. She sat down with the machine and began to enter in an encrypted code. It was one Queue had given her that they had managed to obtain from an informant. But they didn’t know how it was encrypted – only what the original message had looked like, and what the resulting message had been. The encrypted symbols were nonsense, but she had memorized them on her trip here.
She entered the code character-by-character and pulled the lever between each, writing the resulting rune on a paper. The runes were old Hammerfell script, but she had learned to read it well enough. The machine decrypted it perfectly. It was legit.
She smiled broadly, then put the device into her suitcase and turned the combination lock randomly, though making sure to leave the first one as Snake. Then she removed the street clothes, peeled herself out of the catsuit, and spent some time in the bath cleaning all the ash out of the catsuit, the clothes and her fur. The bath was a mess though, so she got a towel and cleaned it after her as well. When she was finished, it was well into the night and she was tired. She crawled under the blanket and fell to sleep instantly, a job well done.
bdfanfic 