It was the smell that woke her. Tallis was dreaming about waves, and about Gold Heart saying something in his baritone voice. Then the scent of sea and rotting fish was replaced by the scent of spice. Sharp tea, maybe? There were other smells too, none of which she recognized. The final straw was a loud grumbling vote from her stomach, and she opened her eyes.

  She was lying curled on her side on a soft bed in a small, attractively furnished room. The walls were covered in plaster of a pale cream color. Hanging on them were black and red designed tapestries that she recalled from the night before. This was the upstairs room in Arrille's establishment. She was in Seyda Neen. In Morrowind.

  "How wonderful to see you again, friend Tallis." Fargoth's voice was the same overly effusive tenor that she remembered from just outside the Census and Excise office. He was standing just to one side of the bed, holding a tray full of unrecognizable items whose smells were generating a lot of enthusiasm in her empty stomach. He smiled, as if in response to the clamor of her insides.

  When he spoke next, his voice was at least an octave lower, and full of gentle sympathy. "Arille mentioned that you'd been too exhausted to eat yesterday. I thought I'd begin my recruitment speech with a bribe." He carried the tray over to a small table that already held a steaming pot of what was presumably tea, and a couple of bottles that Tallis recognized from the ship. Some kind of alcohol. The table and chairs, along with the bed, took up most of the room. The blonde bosmer busied himself in arranging the meal.

  It wasn't until she stood up that Tallis realized that the lovely tub from the night before was gone. The room was small enough that she couldn't really guess where it had gotten to. Of course with Arrille being some sort of mage, there could be any number of interesting answers to that.

  She was still wearing the robe from the night before. She glanced around, and noted folded garments across the headboard. They were clean. How lovely to wear something with no smell of fish. Her oiled shoes were right next to the bed, also very clean.

  Fargoth spoke again. "You will find your clothing across the head of the bed." His back was still to her, and he obviously meant to wait until she had changed.

  Once dressed, she noted that not only were her garments cleaner than she could recall them ever having been, but there was no smell of lye, or any itchiness. They felt softer than they ever had. Of course they were also so worn they were probably going to be more use as rags than garments. Glancing enviously at Fargoth's clothing, she realized that the people she had seen so far in Morrowind were much better dressed than most of the commoners in the Capitol. Ruefully, she fingered the edge of the thin material of her tunic and wondered how much clothes cost here.

  When she looked up, Fargoth was waiting for her, holding a chair pulled away from the table. "May I offer you breakfast?"

  His manner was so gracious, she found herself flushing and tongue-tied. She only nodded, and then sat herself down. Nothing on the large plate was recognizable. There was a slice of what looked at little like fish, but the flesh was very dark brown, and sweetly fragrant. Next to it were sections of what Tallis would have called crab meat, but they were a great deal thicker than she'd ever seen. These slices were arranged attractively on the plate with a portion of pale yellow creamy jelly of some kind. There was a bowl of some kind of cooked grains. Actually it was an attractive swirl of two kinds, one larger and greenish-brown, the other smaller and silvery-grey. There was a salad of thick pointy-edged dark grey-green leaves along with chopped sections of some slender silvery-grey vine with small silver-green leaves. It was by far the most attractive meal that Tallis had ever seen.

  Smiling, Fargoth seated himself across from her. "Let me offer you a lesson in the cuisine of your new home."

  "It's all so beautiful." Tallis found herself recalling her usual prison breakfast of overcooked gruel.

  Fargoth chuckled, not unkindly. "Surely, dear one, that reaction comes from you having being raised by humans." He gestured generally to the table. "Of what use is it to feed the body without also feeding the spirit?"

  Tallis gingerly took a spoonful of the mixed grains. They had a chewy texture and the larger darker grains had a hearty flavor. She stopped being hesitant, and stopped worrying about what the bosmer would think of her table manners and just ate. As she devored things, Fargoth told her what they were. The darker meat was Nyx hound, and it's sweetish flavor was wonderfully counterpointed by the sharp bitter tang of the scrib jelly. The mud crab was also good. The salad, a combination of hackle-lo and bitter green petals, was crisp without being stringy. The heather and stoneflower tea was spicy and hot. By the time she was done, she was full and only then did it occur to her that she had literally eaten everything.

  "I'm sorry."

  Fargoth cut her off. "I'd have been insulted had you not finished. I dare say that you haven't eaten this well that often."

  "Ever." Tallis corrected him, cheeks red and grateful for his kindness. She looked up to meet his gaze. "And now will you explain to me the details of the 'join you or die' choice that Arrille alluded to last night?"

  He had the grace to look slightly ill at ease for a moment. "How harshly you put it, dear one." He looked thoughtful, and then asked. "Consider someone with a strong innate grasp of matters magical raised in the imperial ward or prison system. How long dose such a person survive if they choose against being trained in their art?"

  "It's not like that." Tallis protested. "Our emperor would never-"

  Fargoth raised a single finger. "I'm not laying blame at anyone's door. I'm simply asking about lifespan."

  Well as to that. Tallis considered, of course there had to be some who didn't care to pursue it. But that … But they … But surely. Without really thinking about it, she rose from her chair and started pacing around the room. There was Eduard Denile; the information that had led to his death had seemed a little suspiciously ill-informed. The fate of any number of the Previa family, who had all been talented and none of whom had wanted training.

  "Tallis," A gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her pacing. She looked up. Fargoth's expression was sober. "Those who wield magic also wield considerable political power, and don't much care for rivals."

  Tallis looked at him. Really looked at him, for the first time deliberately doing what Arrille had pointed out she'd been accidentally doing all along. The lines in the bosmer's face were those of gentle compassion, not vengeance. The sparkle in his eyes spoke of wit, not malevolence. Even the posture, the hand to her shoulder had implications. He was clearly skilled enough that the placement spoke of tactical considerations, but they were defensive, not offensive. The whole feel of him was of intelligence and kindness. What would such a person serve? It was an easy question. Arrille had described him as valuing intelligence and loyalty to family. Which implied that whoever was in his organization, he considered them family. Arrille's clear affection in describing him showed that the feelings were reciprocated.

  Of course she'd been taught to consider the mages' guide family too. A very hierarchical, rather sarcastic, highly demanding family. And people like Mariette had really not considered her family at all. She hadn't really liked to think about that much, so she'd avoided it.

  "Tallis, in Morrowind there is considerable danger in operating outside the strict limits of the law."

  Tallis nodded, thinking "Gold Heart said it's a land of predators."

  Fargoth laughed out loud. "And the most deadly of them are dunmer."

  "Are the dunmer really that dangerous?"

  "Tallis, if you start a physical fight, if you attack someone, the penalty is death. Or you can pay a fee, which really translates to bribe the guarde. However if you taunt someone into landing the first blow on you, you can kill them with no repercussions. That should give you an idea of how dangerous the dunmer are to each other."

  Her eyes widened.

  "Of all the mer, dunmer are the most dangerously powerful magically. Most of the daedra refer to them as firebloods. It's not just the red eyes; it's the fact that wielding fire comes so naturally to them that they are also gifted with a certain amount of immunity to it. The most cherished values of much of dunmer culture are honor and vengeance, and that goes about triple for the Ashlanders. More dunmer are killed by dunmer than by anyone or anything else, and this has gone on for many many generations. This has resulted in the survival of the smartest and the most powerful. The average dunmer is skilled with magic, and even more so with at least several weapons. You should probably presume that any dunmer, by the time he has gotten to know your name, has probably already figured out three different highly personalized ways to kill you."

  "So yes, if you decline to join the Lia-Kvar, in this land, you are a threat that cannot be tolerated. However consider what I offer; a highly unorthodox family, loyalty that isn't based on politics, and a chance to do things worth doing." His eyes twinkled. "Many of them are highly illegal, and many are highly dangerous but that's part of the challenge."

  He walked back to the table. "Before you decide, let me continue your lesson." He hefted a medium sized pale ceramic jug and poured out a small portion into a glass. "And I'll start with sujamma, a drink found pretty much anywhere in Morrowind. You need to learn to tolerate it, if not actually enjoy it." His tone was halfway between encouraging and amused. He turned to her.

  "Here is the challenge. Take a hearty swig, and do not cough."

  Gingerly Tallis took the cup. The scent was strong enough that her eyes started to water. The color was rich and dark.

  Fargoth made an encouraging gesture. "Remember, Breton. Don't cough."

  She took a swig. The first thing she noted was the texture. It was thicker than most drinks, almost like a heavy cream soup. Then she swallowed, and the alcohol hit the back of her throat. Her right hand clenched on the glass. Her eyes closed, and her left hand clenched into a fist, and for a moment it was touch and go, but she managed not to cough it right back up. Carefully she swallowed again, and opened her eyes, blinking tears away.

  Fargoth nodded. "Very good for a first time."

  She shook her head. "Wow."

  "In the event of an emergency, you can also use it to disinfect wounds. It will dry into a gummy paste that will help seal the injury and prevent infection."

  She peered into the glass again, but didn't take another drink. "What is this made from?"

  "Tallis, if I didn't already know you for a mage, your questions certainly indicate it. Here is a hint. In the imperial lands, sujamma is often described as 'Hard shell mead'."

  She looked up at him. "That doesn't make any sense. You can't make a drink out of a sea shell. They're mostly like rocks."

  "True. You can't make a drink out of a sea shell." He considered, and then said. "You are new to Morrowind. I'll let you figure it out. But do bear in mind that you will encounter sujamma pretty much everywhere here, so you need to at least be able to tolerate it."

  "I'm going to guess that accidentally spitting all over my host would be considered a dueling offense."

  "Only if your host is very slow, or you are very fast." He gestured to the glass. "Again. You need to be able to tolerate it."

  Cautiously she finished the glass. Wow indeed. She made a mental note to avoid drinking it in the future if at all possible. Then she thought about the ramifications of a duel happening only if the host was slow. By the time Fargoth had filled the next glass from the largest brown jug, Tallis had gone rather pale.

  "Mazte. It's made from fermented saltrice, not as strong, but cheaper."

  She took a careful sip. "I think I like the saltrice itself better."

  "If it's served to you by anyone upper class, you've been offered insult." His voice had a testing quality to it.

  "And if I drink it without taking offence, I've just proven them right?"

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  His eyes twinkled and he gestured for her to finish the cup. It did taste much better than the sujamma, but that wasn't saying much.

  Then from a grey jug with bluish striping, he poured a bright reddish liquid into a stemmed decanter. It smelled sweeter than the first two. "Greef." He told her. "Also known as comberry brandy."

  It had a stronger flavor that made her think of some kind of berries. Of course with a name like comberry brandy, that wasn't really a surprise, was it?

  "Swirl the glass a bit." He encouraged her. "The shape of the glass is to intensify the scent."

  Swirling did make the smell stronger, though she almost spilled a bit. Oops. She took another few sips. It was really quite good. She finished it, and carefully set the glass back onto the table. For some reason it ended up bumping the plate a bit.

  "Lastly," He poured from an attractive bottle that looked like it was made out of silvered glass. The liquid was similar in color to the greef, but clearer, and the scent was more fragrant. "Shein. If you are offered this by a stranger, he or she probably wants to get to know you much better." His voice dropped into an overtly seductive tone. "It's a sign they would like to appreciate you," he handed her the glass. "In a much more personal way."

  To cover her blush, Tallis hastily drank the shein. It was the best yet, a lovely smooth drink that just felt very warm going down, and seemed to spread from her belly, making her feel relaxed and comfortable.

  Deftly taking the goblet from her hand, Fargoth stepped closer to her, and held his arms out, as if indicating the start of a dance. Tallis normally wasn't much for dancing, but she grinned and stepped forward. "And now," he said. "You, dear Breton, are drunk." He twirled her, and it was only his strong embrace that kept her from falling over.

  She should probably have been embarrassed, but she just kept grinning. "Am I?" Her voice sounded kind of wobbly. "I am, aren't I? Oh my gosh that was fast. And on a full stomach too. I thought eating made it harder to get drunk."

  Fargoth studied her carefully. "What do you weigh, Breton, about a hundred pounds or so? Maybe a little less? That much sujamma on an empty stomach would have knocked you out already."

  "Oh." Tallis thought she should probably have more to say than that, but she couldn't think of anything.

  "Since you have overslept, are now too drunk to competently discuss Lia Kvar membership, and show some aptitude for dancing, let me escort you to a better place for lessons."

  Trying to follow all of Fargoth's reasoning seemed like a lot of work, so Tallis happily focused on the last thing he'd said. "You can teach me to dance?"

  He tucked her arm into his and patted her hand. "Yes, Breton, I can teach you to dance."

  He led her out into the main upper area in Arrille's establishment, which Tallis hadn't fully appreciated was actually a bar of sorts. Sitting on a stool in the corner was a dunmer, quietly strumming a lute. Fargoth tossed him a coin. "It's so wonderful that you are here tonight! I was just telling my new friend Tallis that surely such a knowledgeable bard can play something delightful so she can learn to waltz!"

  With practiced ease and a slightly pained expression, the Dunmer caught the coin, and began to play with an engaging tempo. "Would you care to hear Lord Jornibret's Last Dance?"

  "It's a marvelous song." Fargoth exclaimed. "My dear friend Tallis, you will love this!"

  ~~~

  The next morning, Tallis woke, dressed and made her cautious way down to the main part of Arrille's shop. She arrived in time to watch him tie off a large sack of what looked like different types of fungus for a pale-garbed, golden haired Altmer. His customer thanked him politely, the made a special point of looking down her nose at Tallis and muttering "Breton" in a disdainful tone just loud enough to be heard, while being quiet enough to deny. After that, she swept out of the store with a manner that was more suited to court than to a small town in a small shop. Inwardly Tallis sighed. Some things didn't change no matter where you were. She looked at the shelving behind Arrille that had held many different types of fungus the first day she'd arrived.

  Arrille followed her gaze. "How much do you know about harvesting fungus?"

  In the sewers back in the Imperial city, she'd grown her own in her little garden but it had been for beauty, not so much to harvest. As part of her studies she'd worked with green stain fungi and stinkhorn, and a few others. "Harvesting's not that hard, mostly." Tallis replied. "It's knowing what to harvest, and how to do it safely that's the trick." She hadn't actually recognized any of the kinds she'd seen so far here.

  "Well," the Altmer replied in what Tallis recognized immediately as a teaching tone, "If you plan on staying in Seyda Neen, you might want to earn some coin, and perhaps become familiar with the local flora." He glanced toward the door which was propped open with a large urn. Sunshine sparkled on the waves and the scent of the sea was, for once, not mixed with the scent of rotting fish.

  Following his gaze, Tallis smiled at what looked to be seagulls in the distance. "You aren't going to get many customers on a beautiful day like today. They're going to be out in the sun, maybe watching the birds."

  "Birds?" Arrille's expression flickered, and then he shook his head. "Outlander. Those are not birds."

  The intensity of his tone drew her to look at him. There was sorrow in his eyes, but when he spoke it was in a matter-of-fact tone worthy of a legionnaire. "Those are cliff racers. Large enough and good enough flyers to carry you off to feed their young if they can catch you."

  The thought of being carried, or maybe riding away on the back of some exotic flying creature sounded exiting.

  "No." Arrille's stern voice interrupted her half-formed thoughts.

  "But I didn't say anything."

  "I could see it in your face. And as to them carrying you off, they'd do it not with their legs, which are tiny and weak, but with their tail." He paused. "Their poisonous tail. They would skewer you, probably through the stomach, carry you off and you'd bleed to death on the way."

  Tallis swallowed. So not a good idea to try to approach one. An adult, anyway. Carefully she kept that thought to herself. Silently, she listened attentively to Arrille's description of what local fungi he would be interested in purchasing.

  She headed out of the town, carrying a sack from Arrille and the dagger she had yet to return to Hrisskar. Then she remembered: she'd met him last night. The Nord legionnaire who wasn't a terrific dancer. Well, it could wait. It was a sunny, lovely, warm day and this was her first chance to explore Morrowind. Morrowind the exotic volcano-created newest of the Imperial provinces.

  It didn't take her long to discover that the part of Morrowind nearest Seyda Neen was mostly swamp. Not just 'a little bit damp or mucky swamp', but more 'occasionally waist-deep-muck that you had to walk in carefully or lose a shoe and spend twenty minutes trying to find it again' type of swamp.

  Ferns the size of trees towered over her and shaded much of the area away from the town, especially the little valleys, home of most of the muck, and of course, most of the fungi and plants that Arrille had told her to look for. The shadows were helpful in one respect; one of the fungi in particular had a sort of violet glow to it, and the darkness made the glow easier to see. Rather unimaginatively it was called violet something-or-other. Really, it deserved a prettier name.

  Still, the day was pretty, and searching for all these different kinds of plants was a little like a treasure hunt. And just when she had lost her shoe for the third time, and was starting to maybe get a little bit tired of the muck and the feeling of her toes wrinkling up from being in water so long, she saw something that had a glow, and it wasn't quite like the violet glow. Cautiously, she came closer. Pods? Seed pods? They had a very faint bluish glow. She didn't know what they were, but she decided to gather a few of them to take back to Arrille. Once picked, the glow slowly faded, and the top of the pod looked dark, maybe a blue or purple, she wasn't sure.

  She pulled on the first one and a length of vine, or maybe root, rose up from the water. So this one was connected to another one. She followed the vine around the hollow remains of the stump of a fern-tree, and then she stood still. In front of her, not two feet away shifting toward her as she held the vine, was a flower.

  The center of it was on fire. A pale twist of yellow and blue flame that danced in the center of petals whose midnight shimmer seemed to magnify the flames into something like a torch. It was beautiful. Gingerly she drew close to it, and cautiously held out a hand. No heat. So maybe it was something like the bugs who could glow without burning. Somewhat reluctantly, but determined to find out more from Arrille about this plant, she carefully picked it. Like the pods, the glow slowly faded. The petals went dark, once they lost the shine from the center flame.

  After that she had a grand time, happily hiking through muck hoping to see another flaming flower, though she only actually picked the one. She pulled shelf fungi off the trunks of the fern-trees, plucked seed pods out of the smaller ferns and slowly filled the bag.

  She was starting to think that it might be time to turn back, and to hope that she could remember all the correct ways, when she heard something behind her. Turning, she saw a rat. Sort of. She was fairly familiar with the sleek-furred, long-tailed specimens that she encountered on occasion in the Imperial sewer. They were easy enough to scare away with a loud noise or two. On occasion you could offer them something to eat, and they would take it and skitter away.

  This thing was much bigger than a normal rat, almost the size of Tallis' torso, but it looked bloated and ill, not sleek and healthy. Its' fur was patchy and clumped. The skin in between was red where it wasn't scabby or weeping. It was either hissing quietly or else it was having trouble breathing. She took a step backward, and almost lost her right shoe yet again. It made a louder, angrier noise and rushed forward.

  Dropping the sack, she scrambled for the dagger with her left hand. Her right hand she held out, fingers wide, and called magicka. Up from the earth, through her legs and arm and out through her hand. Maybe it was the flower that had given her the idea. The spell she used was one she'd originally developed for starting a blazing fire under a large cauldron for long enough to catch even the most damp and poorly arranged combustibles. Flame burst into life under the rat's belly. And it kept burning.

  It gave what started as a piteous squeal. For a split-second Tallis thought of dropping the magick, or just trying to run away. Then the sound screeched into rage, and it launched itself at her. She blocked it with the dagger, which swiped into its side, and spattered her with blood. The thing landed on its side in the muck, still burning. The stench of burned hair and flesh, mixed with the smell of bunt muck as it writhed for a moment, trying to get back to its feet. Tallis backed away again, not even trying to keep track of her shoe, dagger held out towards the struggling rat.

  It gave a last horrible noise and went still.

  Tallis stood there, hand still out, shaking, breathing hard. It was dead. It was over. "Okay." She told herself. "Okay, it's all over."

  Then she threw up.

  She made herself look for her shoe. Then she slowly pushed the rat's body down into the swamp. Let it help feed the fiery flowers or something. Maybe its death would be a little better than its life had been.

  Slowly she made her way back toward Seyda Neen. She could just make out the silhouette of the lighthouse in the dusk, and hear a strange sound that she didn't recognize. Some kind of foghorn? There wasn't any fog, though, and it was higher pitched than she thought a fog horn was supposed to be. Vaguely she remembered hearing it in the morning, so it was probably something to do with something around Seyda Neen.

  Then much closer, she heard a thumping noise. Startled, she turned, dropping the sack again, knife held out.

  A ghost pale critter that looked like a dog sized bug with a lot of skinny legs and shiny black eyes stared back at her. For a long moment they stood, bug and Breton. Then the critter smacked it's tail-part against the ground, making a surprisingly loud series of thumps that seemed to carry.

  It wasn't attacking. It skittered toward her in an indirect kind of way, curving this way and that. When it finally got close to her, it waved very short antenna in her direction. Maybe smelling her? She wasn't sure. Then it meandered away.

  Slowly Tallis put the dagger away. Okay, that wasn't so bad.

  She was getting closer to the little bridge she'd crossed in the morning when she heard a sound behind her. Sort of a cross between the stereotypical groan of a ghost, and the whine for attention of Salmon Genoette's dog Charlotte. She turned. Behind her some way back on the road was a really large … well a really large ant.

  Except for it seemed to be missing its antenna. She felt sorry for it. Ants seemed to do most of their smelling and communicating with each other with their antenna. She wondered how it was making out, and if it had met the little pale critter.

  It paused and half-reared up, swiping a fore-claw in the air. That wasn't very ant-like. The sound came again, sort of a long drawn out 'hooon'. Now that it was closer, she could see that it was a greenish color. It was also big. Really big, like bigger than a full grown war dog, though not quite as big as a large horse.

  Shouts came from behind her. The rustle of steel as blades were drawn. The heavy thunder of the charge of military bootsteps. Armored men swarmed past her, weapons out and raised.

  The giant ant gave another mournful call and charged forward, faster than Tallis had realized it could move, dodging past the lead warrior, it raked sideways at another. There was a screech of sharp claw on metal. Tallis clapped her hands to her ears. All around her came the yells of the fighters, the chunking of weapon against the things resilient hide. The noises of the creature itself were fewer, it's low-pitched calls and the high horrible screeching as it clawed its way through the chain and steel that was supposed to protect the legionnaires. Human cries of pain were testament to the creature's skill. Then suddenly it went stiff, joints locked in position, and then fell, hard.

  A ragged cheer when up from the assembled guard and a deep male voice said enthusiastically "Nyx hound steak tonight!" There were appreciative chuckles.

  "I'll do the honors, boys, shall I?" Hrisskar Flat-Foot raised his broadsword in a two-handed arc over his head and then sliced the creature's torso open.

  Tallis watched all this in a kind of numbed silence. She wasn't sure what to do or even what she should do.

  A heavy gauntleted hand settled on her right shoulder. She turned to look up to meet the concerned gaze of a guard she didn't know.

  "Miss, are you all right?"

  "Thank you, I'm fine." The automatic response came out of Tallis' mouth before she'd made any conscious plans about what she was going to say. But she wasn't bleeding. She wasn't hurt. So it was true.

  "Tallis?"

  A familiar voice. Falx Vitellius, she identified him by the sound of his voice even before she turned to him. He looked concerned for her. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she was fine when she realized that he was not. A section of rings had been torn away from the side of his mail armor, and the torn quilting underneath it was starting to discolor with a sluggishly growing red stain.

  "Oh my gosh, you're bleeding." Tallis gave her palms two quick rubs against each other to start the energy flowing. "I can help with that." She put her hands carefully over the torn armor, not quite touching him. Up from the ground, riding in the sunlight, carried on the breeze from the sea, she wove magicka and set it to repairing the damage the nix hound had caused.

  Falx' objection died unspoken and he stood still, gaze on her hands as the healing energy did its work. Behind him, someone mocked in a soft falsetto "Oh Falx, are you hurt?" Out of the corner of her gaze, Tallis noted that the tips of his ears turned red. Her jaw firmed, but she waited until the magic had ebbed before saying anything.

  "I'm honored.” She met Falx’ gaze as she spoke in a voice intended to be soft enough to be shy and polite, but loud enough to carry. “By Agent Vitellius’ chivalrous acceptance of this healing as a token of appreciation from a grateful citizen of the empire."

  She had known from the way Falx was equipped that he was an Agent, and judging from the newness of his gauntlets, he was probably only recently promoted. Hrisskar had to be only a trooper. Which really meant he had no business insulting a higher ranking legionnaire, especially in front of a civilian.

  By saying something, Tallis had pretty much insured that his fellows were probably going to feel obligated express their displeasure all over him later that night. Still, he was kind of mean, and she couldn't really feel sorry about it.