32: Hostile territory

It started early this morning, on the docks of Sadrith Mora. A fine sturdy craft rode high in the water, her master lounging against the mast. Before I could speak she started quoting prices for distant destinations.

"I'm just going to Tel Aruhn today," I said.

"Not worth my time," said the captain. I didn't know what to say. Tel Aruhn is very close to Sadrith Mora, true enough, but almost all travel in the rugged Azura's Coast region is by water. She could easily drop me off on her way to any other port, or have been back in a few hours to get her next charter.

"Look outlander, I don't care how you get to Tel Aruhn. Fly. Swim. Water walk. For that matter I don't even care if you get to Tel Aruhn, but you aren't getting there by standing around on my boat, so get off." I realized that the reason I didn't know what to say was that there just wasn't anything to be said, so I left.

I water walked across the narrow channels and clambered up the rocky shores of the islands through the crashing surf. Kagouti among the towering spires, flights of cliff racers; delays came from all sides. What could have been a quick voyage wasted half the day, but eventually the great tower of Archmagister Gothren came into view.

The Telvanni wizard lords don't build their towers, they grow them. The giant mushrooms of Morrowind, like their smaller brethren, are focal points for magicka, and the Telvanni use their craft to shape the magicka, along with the material. Four huge mushroom caps loomed overhead, supported by their stems that entwined into a single central stalk. Undoubtedly that stalk would be hollow, providing a vertical shaft giving access to the chambers inside the caps above. At the feet of this awesome structure smaller 'buildings' huddled. The lesser mushrooms also offered hollow chambers in their caps, with twisted ladders grown from trama vine providing access for those unable or unwilling to fly. I walked past the long flat tendrils that are trained along the surface of the water to serve the Telvanni as docks, and their towers as roots.

With more than half the day gone I reconsidered my direct approach to the Archmagister. The Pot and Plaster was familiar, and I determined to refresh myself with their hospitality and present myself in the morning. Another miscalculation.

The proprietor of the Pot and Plaster did not remember my previous visit, but recognized me immediately from my current notoriety. "We have no rooms, outlander," he said as I walked through the door. Again my plans changed.

"I won't be staying then. I'll just quickly refresh myself from my travels and be on my way." I reached for my money pouch.

"You've not traveled far enough, outlander. Refresh yourself elsewhere, perhaps on your own shores. Lord Dagoth rises. Sleepers awake. Your time here is through." The red eyes blazed. In Telvanni territory I could count on short shrift from the authorities, which evidently emboldens the sleepers. I left quickly to avoid a fight that would cost me as much to win as lose.

Back on the ground I considered my options. With my temper already flaring I had no desire to face Gothren. I could have teleported back to Sadrith Mora and repeated the trek tomorrow, without the aggravation of having transportation and hospitality surprisingly denied me since I now know there will be none. There was another option that merited at least some investigation in the remaining daylight though.

So here I am, writing my journal by the magical light of a spell, in the cabin of an unknown vessel lodged on the rocky outcrops of an island near to Tel Aruhn. While lacking in many comforts, it offers shelter from the weather, and with a locking spell on the cabin door some measure of security from predators. I shall sleep well, if lightly, to recover my strength of body and mind, and face Gothren tomorrow.