Day Eighty-four: False trail

I woke up this morning trying to blink the grit out of my eyes. I am really not made for camping out. I would not make a very good Ashlander. If I'm going to die from an attack in my sleep let it be at the Dark Brotherhood's hand in a comfortable bed. No need to make it easy for them though.

I returned to Ald-ruhn in time to have lunch with Hassour Zainsubani. I told him his son was alive and well and would be returning home soon. While the harsh Ashlands do not provide much comfort, thus producing a very hardy folk, they give something else. Something that produces a sense of honor that is almost tangible. I found Hannat Zainsubani as a favor to his father, who was doing a favor for me. I neither needed nor expected a reward. In fact, since Hannat's mission to explore Mamaca as a source of wealth had clearly come up empty any expectation I might have had I would have forsaken. I am learning about Ashlander customs, and not just from my notes.

Hannat had told me a line of poetry, and requested I repeat it to his father. I thought it was a way to ensure that I as the messenger was delivering a true message. It was that, and also more. When I quoted the line Hassour said, "You have rescued my son from grave danger, and he owes you a debt of gratitude that he could not repay." We had greeted each other as friends, and the formality of his tone surprised me. He told me to wait while he went to his room.

Upon his return Hassour placed a heavy cloth sack on the table. "Fifty pounds of raw ebony. This, my own blade." He unbuckled his shortsword, a fine Imperial weapon, and placed it alongside the sack. I recognized the venomous enchantment gleaming from the hilt. "And this, a ring from my own finger. My son's debt is repayed." "Hassour! No payment is..." He cut me off. "Silence friend. You came to me to learn the customs of my people. This is a lesson. Never refuse an Ashlander's gift, or their payment. It is a mortal insult."

I nodded. "Thank you my friend. For the opportunity to serve your family, and for the payment of your son's debt."

A smile creased his weathered face, bringing a light to the red eyes. "You learn fast," was all he said, and then the food and drink began to flow. By the time I reached the Ald-ruhn guild hall I was not thinking clearly, and only cooler heads kept me from falling deeply asleep in the room known by the Dark Brotherhood as mine.

Mage's can be such opportunists. I had just lain down on the bed when Edwinna burst peremptorily into the room. "Arvil Bren! You cannot sleep there!" she shouted. "I will not have a conjurer slain in my guild hall, and you are clearly in no shape to defend yourself." I had to concede that was true. I wouldn't have stood a chance with an assassin; I couldn't even escape her onslaught. By closing one eye I could get her into focus at least. "You need to get out of Ald-ruhn, and out of sight. I have just the thing." She pushed a thick packet into my hands as she led me onto the guild guide platform. "No one will know you are in Balmora tonight, and anyone asking for you will be told you are in your lab doing research. Good luck, and hurry back with my plans."

"Plans?" I said, as the teleportation took effect. "What plans?"

It is late at night in Balmora. The guild hall here is secure and on alert. I am finally sober enough to write, and to figure out that I have been dispatched to the remote island of Sheogorad. There is a Dwemer ruin there that Edwinna believes houses a set of blueprints. I hesitate to think what she wants to build. So much for comfortable beds.