{"id":2299,"date":"2010-07-20T02:24:08","date_gmt":"2010-07-20T10:24:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chocolatehammer.org\/?p=2299"},"modified":"2026-06-15T17:07:22","modified_gmt":"2026-06-16T01:07:22","slug":"in-a-hostile-country-the-saga-of-cahmel-epilogue-part-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chocolatehammer.org\/?p=2299","title":{"rendered":"In a Hostile Country: The Saga of Cahmel (Epilogue, Part 2)"},"content":{"rendered":"

This post is 4,300 words long, so buckle up.<\/em><\/p>\n

The air in Hlaalu\u2019s fabulous Vivec Canton stank of suits and money, both freshly laundered. I recognized it instantly. For the skin of a moment, I remembered all of the good times I\u2019d had in places like this; for about a minute and a half, I remembered all of the really, really awful ones. My resolve was not flapped. I stepped through a set of familiar doors, brushing past the gawking bureaucrats to Crassius\u2019s lobby.<\/p>\n

A woman was standing on call there\u2014a receptionist? With Crassius, you could never be sure. To be on the safe side, I approached her and said, \u201cHello, I\u2019m here to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

She\u2019d glanced up from her notebook, taken one look at me, and choked off a scream.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d I said quickly, raising my hands. \u201cI know. The expulsion, right? Hey, look, that was all just a wacky misunderstanding\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cDark Brotherhood!\u201d she whispered, pushing herself backwards against the wall. \u201cIf you take another step, I\u2019ll scream for the guards!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Oh, the uniform. Right. Yeah, funny story\u2014one of \u2018em came into my room at night to try to kill me, but I managed to skewer him and strip the still-warm armor from his bloodied\u2014well, not funny ha-ha<\/em>, but like\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you expect me to believe that? Why would you don the ceremonial armor of the most feared and hated assassin\u2019s cabal in the realm?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSlightly thicker than my bug suit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlus, chicks dig the goggles. Look, I just need to–\u201d<\/p>\n

The receptionist slowly drew herself away from the wall, muscles stiffening, spine straightening. Her expression grew tough and cold, and I remembered then that Hlaalu employees are required to put in a certain amount of combat hours before they\u2019re ever handed a pen. This woman had been through whatever I had been through\u2014perhaps worse. When she spoke, the fear was purged from her voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cListen to me, you lying, treacherous snake. Perhaps you thought we would fear you, but we do not. Hlaalu officials are not so easily cowed. I don\u2019t know why you have come here, but whatever sinister deeds you were planning, forget it. If you don\u2019t turn around and leave this instant, I will call the guards on you, and you will spend the last instants of your worthless life surrounded, on your knees, and screaming. Do you understand me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, I just want to see Crassius\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cDown the stairs, first door on your right, he should be in right now. I\u2019ll cancel his appointments for the next hour.\u201d She swept smoothly back into her chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks,\u201d I said, pushing open the stairwell door.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell him Lovecrumpet sent you.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I came upon Crassius\u2019 door and hesitated. On the one hand, I couldn\u2019t bring myself to knock\u2014what was I here for, after all?\u2014but barging in on his office without <\/em>knocking seemed tantamount to committing sanicide. Then I realized that there was nothing he could be doing right now that he would stop <\/em>doing if he though somebody would see him, so I sucked down my reservations and opened the door.<\/p>\n

His office was unlit and pitch-dark, which was exactly<\/em> what I did not want. Anything could be happening inside this room; it fell to me to decide whether to leave it illuminate it, and possibly confirm the worst, or to leave it be, and, consequentially, forever assume<\/em> the worst. It was an agonizing decision, but I took a chance and pulled out a torch.<\/p>\n

I regretted it. I regretted everything<\/em>. It was almost miraculous how quickly I went from righteous revenge-mode to gripped with terrible, terrible remorse at the life choices that had led to this moment. I felt nauseous. I felt filthy. I felt like I needed to scrub at my brain with steel wool until this memory sloughed off completely, in addition to the portions of my brain that would allow me to ever process such a sight again.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Crassius was sitting at his desk. Thankfully, his hands\u2014and little else\u2014were visible. They were also clutching a doll about the size of an open palm, a small brownish ragdoll with a homemade cloth shirt on.<\/p>\n

That was odd, but it wasn\u2019t until I looked closer that the true horror set in. What I had thought was a misshapen head made of wood or tin was actually a helmet of some kind\u2014a helmet shaped like a clamshell.<\/p>\n

It was me. It was what I was wearing when I first came to work for him. That shirt, that helmet, even\u2014where were the pants? Oh my god, where were the pants?<\/em><\/p>\n

Crassius shifted, and he began to straighten. He glanced about.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? I don\u2019t have any appointments for a bit, sugar plum, so back that cute ass-assin gear out of my office until\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

He froze. He sniffed once, then twice, then licked the air\u2014I swear to god, he licked it as if he were a snake. He licked it, and then he sucked on his own tongue, eyes glancing ceilingward like a wine snob pinpointing a vintage.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s see, that\u2019s\u2026aha, I knew I recognized you! Come in! Cahmel, baby, how\u2019s my favorite pariah?\u201d<\/p>\n

I edged into the office, but I was still staring at the doll. Crassius looked down at it and gave what could only be transcribed as a leering <\/em>grin.<\/p>\n

\u201cAn immortal record of your beauty, dumpling. I make \u2018em for all of my employees. I\u2019ve got a whole wall of them at home\u2014sometimes, when I\u2019m all alone, I like to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy isn\u2019t it wearing pants?<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Oh, don\u2019t be so modest, muffin. I just hadn\u2019t pulled on his new greaves yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

Slowly, I allowed my stomach to unclench. \u201cI guess I should just be glad it\u2019s not anatomically correct.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHm? Oh, it is.\u201d He held it up. \u201cSee, I left a thread loose between its\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

And that\u2019s when I stabbed him in the kidney.<\/p>\n

\u2026<\/p>\n

Odrinarn looked exactly how I\u2019d left it.\u00a0 Old, wind-worn, more than a little filthy, and undisturbed by intelligent life since the last time I\u2019d been there. I figured the Hlaalu agents would probably still be waiting inside.<\/p>\n

It was a little painful how right I was.<\/p>\n

There they were, exercising diverse disciplines of Standing Around\u2014from the foreign to the domestic, from the exotic to the pragmatic. One of them was knitting a suit of yarnmail\u2014their third or fourth, from the looks of it. Another two were playing Guess the Species of Unpleasant Insect. And right by the door, arms folded, expression hotter than Crassisu\u2019s pants, was Remasa Othril herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere the hell have you been?\u201d she demanded.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean, what do I mean<\/em>? You had a job to do, asshole! What do you think Hlaalu\u2019s paying you for?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, actually, they\u2019re\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve got a lot of nerve, leaving us twisting in the wind here! Do you think the world starts and stops at your convenience?\u201d<\/p>\n

I needed to see where this was going. \u201cI did nearly get killed last time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo? Yes, it was dangerous, but sacrifices have to be made sometimes! You know that necromancer still has my sister? By hiding like a coward, you\u2019ve endangered her life tremendously! I\u2019m hardly able to sleep most nights, knowing that she\u2019s held captive by a dangerous lunatic less than a mile away!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSay, Remasa, you any good with that?\u201d I asked brightly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWith what?\u201d
\n\u201cYour sword. The one you, and this is bound strictly within the confines of theory, kill undead with.\u201d<\/p>\n

She glanced down at, recoiling as if surprised to find it there. \u201cOh, this thing? I\u2019m okay, I guess. It doesn\u2019t matter!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure? Think about it. We could both go down, cover each others\u2019 backs, deal with the necromancer or whatever, and save your sister together. Anyone?\u201d<\/p>\n

The other mercenaries shook their heads; Remasa stamped her foot. \u201cListen, this operation is your<\/em> job now, not mine. You\u2019re the one who stands to make a profit. If I\u2019m not drawing a salary, I\u2019m not going to so much as draw my sword, not even to save my own flesh and blood.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what? That\u2019s cool with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo are you going to finish the job, or wh\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cAppelles Matius?\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned to me, mithril plates groaning loudly as he shifted his weight. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI heard you were the one to talk to about Dark Brotherhood attacks. Is that right?\u201d<\/p>\n

He rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. \u201cYes, I suppose so. What was the incident in question?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA man in Dark Brotherhood armor was recently spotted murdering a stupid bureaucrat in garish, overrated armor.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t say. Well, I don\u2019t know how you came upon this information ,but waaaiiit a minute<\/em>!\u201d He snapped his fingers, fixing me with a hard glare that caused me to take a step backwards. \u201cI\u2019m<\/em> a stupid bureaucrat in garish, overrated armor! And you\u2019re<\/em> wearing Dark Brotherhood armor!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a tremendous coincidence! Really, really staggering!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026suppose?\u201d I really wasn\u2019t prepared for this.<\/p>\n

\u201cIndeed it is! Definitely something somebody should look into. You, for example.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. You\u2019re the one who brought it to my attention, you sort it out.\u00a0 I\u2019d look into it myself, but I\u2019m a little busy right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n

He fixed me with a stern glare. \u201cDo you know <\/em>how hard it is to scratch your ass while wearing this stuff?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I can\u2026what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s worth it, though.\u201d He rapped the breastplate with a mailed glove. \u201cSolid as a rock. No blade I know of can penetrate it. Everything from the neck down is a veritable fortress.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNeck down, huh? Ever think of buying a helmet?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFunny you should mention that. I didn\u2019t order one with this suit, but I\u2019ve been looking into one recently\u2014I think I\u2019ve got the head for one, you know? Yeah, I might place an order.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThink you can acquire one in the next three seconds?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cProbably not.\u201d
\n\u201cMe neither.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2026<\/p>\n

I pulled the blanket around myself as the silt strider lurched back to Balmora, step by freakishly elongated step. My brain was in a strange place\u2014I was thinking clearly, but I knew I wasn\u2019t <\/em>thinking clearly. Everything made sense, but I knew that it didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

It was the revenges so far. I hadn\u2019t realized until this week just how much frustration and rage I\u2019d had pent up inside me\u2014this whole goddamned island has pissed me off beyond the point of lucidly expressing it. Oh, my annoyance had slipped through a few times\u2014twice, maybe, and both of those times ended with criminal charges and\/or expulsion. All of that frustration, and so little in the way of catharsis, had left me squirrely and bitter even when things appeared to be going well. The murders had all been a blur so far, but they\u2019d been a nice, warm, fuzzy blur. Each one had set my soul at peace a little more, and now I was about to wrap up.<\/p>\n

Next stop, Cosades. I was looking forward to him more than any of the others, even more than\u2026Wait, crap, did I do Gaenor? I must have. I was over in Ebonheart, and that\u2019s where you get transportation to Gaenor\u2019s twisted little courtyard. No way I could have forgotten. Blearily, I glanced down at my string of trophies.<\/p>\n

Yep, there\u2019s a Wood Elf ear. I must have done him. I\u2019m not sure how, but I must have. Why didn\u2019t I remember it?<\/p>\n

The silt strider came to a swaying, unsteady halt. I swung off of it, grasping for my train of thought.<\/p>\n

Cosades. I was looking forward to doing that bastard. I don\u2019t know if he\u2019s responsible for my being here, or if he\u2019s just my boss, or my warden, or my guardian angel\u2014it didn\u2019t matter. He was behind something that had to do with me getting deported here instead of being released into Cyrodiil. Hell, I wasn\u2019t even from <\/em>Cyrodiil, that\u2019s just where I was done up for smuggling jerky into Bravil. What kind of legal acrobatics did they need to do to get me slung over here?<\/p>\n

That was something I\u2019d never really considered before. Why me? Why did they single me out of the crowd, why did they transfer me from jail to jail until I ended up in Morrowind, of all places? That couldn\u2019t have been cheap. And then asking me to report to a spymaster? Why had I never thought this through before?<\/p>\n

I walked through the streets, tightening my grip on my sword hilt. Before the violence went down, we would have a little chat, him and I. I was due more than revenge, it seemed. I was due answers<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I cut down the alleyway, past the guild halls and the weaponsmith, then turned into the sprawling, garbage-strewn court. Then, silently as a wraith, I ascended the staircase. Then I turned left, went down that staircase, and cut past the weaponsmith again. Then I backtracked, buzzed three or four houses, looked up on the hill, turned around, headed for the back of town\u2026
\nCrap, where was this guy\u2019s house again?<\/p>\n

After fifteen minutes, and asking for directions in the South Wall Cornerclub, I found myself on Cosades\u2019 doorstep. I steadied myself, raised one enchanted boot, and brought it down as hard as I could against the lock.<\/p>\n

The door swung open.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Cosades stood inside. His back was turned to me; he did not turn about, even as the harsh clang of ruptured iron echoed throughout the room. He merely stood, silent, passive, hands at his sides.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Cosades,\u201d I said, entering. \u201cIt\u2019s been a while. Months, at least. How have you been keeping?\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, I\u2019ve been thinking a little about how you brought me out here. A little about how you seem to have gone out of your way to make life harder for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was continued silence. I raised my voice, pacing just inside his room.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s sad, really. You take a man who\u2019s down on his luck, get him shipped to a foreign country full of xenophobes, and turn him loose. He\u2019ll never succeed, of course. He\u2019ll never fit in, or have a home, or amount to anything besides a vagrant. Well, okay, maybe somebody <\/em>could have\u2014although seriously, what could an Outlander possibly achieve in Morrowind? But you knew I never would.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere was no mission, was there? You were just trying to make my life harder, that\u2019s it. You just like to watch suffering. You just like to drag some pathetic xeno into a hostile country and watch his little saga unfold. Is that it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

His voice struck me. It was as soft as a child\u2019s blanket, and it sounded\u2026off. Strange. Wrong.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s exactly it,\u201d he continued. \u201cI hate you, Cahmel. You are weak, you are vain, you are selfish, you are prideful, and you are, above all, a flea that plays at being a giant. I hate you more than I hate anyone else. And your suffering and degradation has brought me great amusement.\u201d<\/p>\n

I blinked hard. I really wasn\u2019t expecting him to agree with me this quickly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m only sorry that it has to end now,\u201d he finished.<\/p>\n

\u201cI should say it does.\u201d I drew my blade with a silky hiss\u2014he didn\u2019t flinch. \u201cI think, \u2018flea\u2019 though I may be, I can handle one shirtless old man. You\u2019re about to die, Cosades.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, am I?\u201d I could almost hear his smile. \u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah? And why not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, for one thing, because you failed to do the job last time.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned around, degree by degree, as I watched\u2014paralyzed, suddenly, by a flush of dread I couldn\u2019t explain. I saw his worn, weathered face, eyes cast into shadow, lips curled into a sinister smile. He reached up, rubbing his temples thoughtfully\u2014then grasped his ears savagely and tore<\/em>.<\/p>\n

His face split like an overripe grape, and beneath it was another.<\/p>\n

It was the feral face of Gaenor.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I murmured. \u201cYou\u2019re dead. You\u2019re dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t sound so sure. Did that trophy on your belt fool you? And even should you set that aside, well, even one of your meager intelligence can see that I am not dead. Not alive, perhaps, but not dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy\u2026\u201d I asked, my voice beginning to fail. \u201cHow\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re still wondering what this is all about, aren\u2019t you? And I thought you understood. I thought you had finally grasped why I\u2019ve been tormenting you. I suppose that is too much to ask. I\u2019ll help you, then. Let us start\u2026from the beginning.\u201d<\/p>\n

He grinned. \u201cThink clearly, Cahmel. Think of the smuggling mission, the one that you ran before you were\u2026\u2018arrested.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

The details played in my mind\u2014the harsh glare of torches, the thundering of hoofbeats, the sound of panicking men and horses.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

His grin widened further than should have been possible. \u201cDo you remember\u2026the bowman?\u201d<\/p>\n

I did\u2014a bowman on a hill. His face was stern and illuminated by fire. He could see me\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you remember\u2014\u201c He barked this. \u201cThe arrow!\u201d<\/p>\n

The arrow plunged through the night, turning slowly through the torchlight\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you remember\u2014THE PAIN?\u201d<\/p>\n

A pain spreading across my torso\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you remember\u2014YOUR DEATH, CAHMEL? Do you remember bleeding out in the grass like a wounded dog?\u201d<\/em> He threw back his head and howled with laughter. Reality began to swim. My vision grew bleary with nausea and disorientation, and I groped about, searching for something solid\u2014all I found was immaterial. The only sensation I could hold onto was his laughter, a laugh that scraped against my senses like a saw against a demon\u2019s violin.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sinned, Cahmel, and for your sins\u2026you belong to me!\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt weights\u2014hands grasping at my shoulders, at my collar, at my hair, at my arms. I tired to look up, but could only loll my head, trying in vain to fight the forces that lifted and dragged me away. I saw ordinator helmets in the darkness, red-eyed and leering, dragging me away on my knees. I focused, and thought I caught glints of Imperial silver. Then blackness swallowed me–<\/p>\n

I woke up and threw up in that order, and so seamlessly that there was hardly an appreciable transition between the two. It was kind of impressive, in a weird way, and in that moment of barely-lucid confusion I found myself wishing someone had been there to see it.<\/p>\n

Someone was. There were three imperial guards sitting in chairs around me, exactly far enough away that if something like what just happened, happened, they would happen to be at a safe distance. One of them cleared his throat, then called out, \u201cCan we get a janitor in here? Crazy drunk guy threw up.\u201d He sniffed. \u201cI\u2019m pretty sure your vomit is fermented.\u201d<\/p>\n

I pulled myself into a shaky sitting position. Once my eyes were staring vaguely in a forward direction, I figured out where I was\u2014a holding cell. Fort Moonmoth, probably. Or was that the other one? Which was the one near Balmora? One of the Moths, I think.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not sure why my headache didn\u2019t kick in until then, but it did, and there\u2019s no cute metaphor that can adequately summarize it so I\u2019m not even going to take a crack at it. I groaned expansively.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d said the same guard. \u201cYou were stumbling outside of Balmora. We followed you for a half-mile or so. Nunicus won the betting pool on how far you\u2019d get before you fell on your face, by the way.\u201d<\/p>\n

And then it came rushing back\u2014the memories, much like last night\u2019s food and beverage, were too unsavory to contain for long. I\u2019d just finished writing the Murder Registry 5, I’d sketched out a few vague ideas of where to flog Saryoni’s Sermons <\/em>for the 50,000, I thought I\u2019d have a few drinks to ensure that the operation started on a good foot\u2014I\u2019d had a few more, talked to a few people about my experiences, shared some intimate secrets, cried a little, drank some more\u2014and the whole thing, as best as I remember, got a bit away from me. And at some point, I\u2019d apparently decided the best way to begin the operation would be to set out from Balmora and start heading…well, start heading<\/em>, anyway.<\/p>\n

And then I\u2019d passed out, and dreamed of\u2026geez. Whatever that bastard at the South Wall Corner Club was selling, it was either of the greatest quality or the worst chemical concoction ever deemed drinkable. Possibly the two states were identical. Although, now that I think of it, some of those cocktails did get a bit on the glowy side. I seem to recall him claiming he needed to use some ad hoc ingredients as substitutes for the bug parts I wouldn\u2019t tolerate\u2026mushrooms? Yeah, some of those were mushroom-like.
\nI realized that the guards were staring at me\u2014almost like they were waiting for something. \u00a0And then, a dark thought occurred.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid\u2026I wasn\u2019t holding, like, a\u2026list<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n

They glanced at each other. \u201cUh\u2026you did have a piece of paper, actually. I meant to bring that up.\u201d<\/p>\n

I held my breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cSee, you were holding onto it as if it were important to you, and when I tried to take it away, well, you got very\u2026protective. So I did manage to acquite it\u2026\u201d He held it up. \u201cIt\u2019s a list of some kind. Perhaps it\u2019s because you were drunk, but you\u2019ve got some of the most illegibile handwriting I\u2019ve ever seen.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart skipped a beat.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is completely unreadable. To me, this looks like, \u201cHave a squirrel with blue spade, quack(?) the dorking Mitchell, murder Appelles Matius, turtledove snacker.\u201d He tossed it to me. \u201cYou can have it back, I suppose.\u201d<\/p>\n

I snatched it from midair, then quickly shoved it into my shirt. \u201cOh, yeah, shopping list. I\u2019m out of squirrel spades. So\u2026uh, thank you gentlemen for taking me in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a problem,\u201d said the guard.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess\u2026oh! Of course. I did serve my time for the drunkenness, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, that\u2019s just 12 hours. Consider that one square.\u201d<\/p>\n

I ran a hand through my hair, then\u2014in spite of my situation, in spite of my headache\u2014I cracked an honest smile. You had to laugh, you really did, because at the end of the day, this was almost a win. This was, in fact, as close to a win as I was ever going to get. It\u2019s something of an analogy for my whole situation\u2014at the end of the day, you may be in pain, you may be embarrassed as hell, and you may be sick to death, but you\u2019re not in jail and nobody\u2019s trying to kill you and you\u2019ve still got both legs. It wasn\u2019t a glamorous existence, but it worked. I guess I might as well get used to it. As soon as I got out of here, the list was going straight into the trash. I grinned wider, and the guards grinned with me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks again,\u201d I said, and I meant it. \u201cWill that be all?\u201d<\/p>\n

Still smiling, one of the guards lifted up the Saryoni\u2019s Sermons. <\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

Shit.<\/p>\n

EPILOGUE:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Well, I had my legs, I guess. Prison was looking like a certainty, and as soon as the Temple heard that somebody\u2019d killed the guardian of the Sermons<\/em> and stolen it, they\u2019d probably want me dead and deep-fried. I think I took all of that pretty well, but that may be because I\u2019d already vomited everything up.<\/p>\n

The Imperial guards weren\u2019t unkind to me. They really didn\u2019t care about the book, and they suspected their bosses didn\u2019t either, but they had to return it to the Temple and they had to have somebody to take the blame for stealing it. Bottom line was, I wasn\u2019t going anywhere anytime soon.<\/p>\n

That one guard explained it to me later, once I\u2019d gotten my head straight and been shown to a proper cell. They were going to swing it so that I only got life, he said. Execution was unlikely\u2014the Imperials would see to that, if only so that the Temple didn\u2019t get things all its own way. I think this marks the first occasion in which I\u2019ve actually appreciated politics.<\/p>\n

And to be honest, life in prison isn\u2019t so bad either. I wasn\u2019t ready for the outside, that much was clear. In Vvardenfel, you have to be one of two things: you either have to be a native, in which case you get a free ride, or you have to be a god amongst men, in which case you can claw your way up by your fingernails and probably still fail. Anything else and you end up like me\u2014well, I guess there\u2019s room to not be in prison, but you end up a failure is the idea. Frankly, the advantage of prison is that there wouldn\u2019t be any high expectations placed on me.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are the prisons here?\u201d I asked. \u201cLike, do you ever end up doing warden duty?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shook his head. \u201cNo, no.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh. Do you at least know if I\u2019ll get my own bed?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I mean, you\u2019re not going to prison here<\/em>. The whole idea is that we try you here and then ship you. If we lock you away here, you won\u2019t last ten minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI might last eight. Do you have many wood elf vagrants?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, the problem is that you stole an important religious text. An outlander AND a blasphemer? Trust me, that\u2019s not a winning combination, even in prison. No, things have probably already been worked out behind the scenes. Once the verdict comes in, we\u2019re shipping you back to Cyrodiil, where you\u2019ll be doing life up in the Imperial Prison.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cForegone conclusion, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got a cell all picked out for you. First on the left, directly by the staircase.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shrugged. Eh. Imperial prison, Morrowind prison\u2014it didn\u2019t matter to me. As long as they don\u2019t expect me to be the hero of the realm, I think I\u2019m going to be alright.<\/p>\n

The End?<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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