IV

- "You saved my daughter from an assassination attempt," Lord Razirr'Ri began in a solemn voice. "This is the second time you have come to her rescue, and for that you have my gratitude."

Flavia, Gunnar, Imril, and Alberic stood straight before the great white khajiit. They were all gathered in the audience room where the mercenaries had been received the day before. Councilor Sakhar and Captain Tasarr'Do were also present and stood at their lord's side.

Alberic was impressed by the great size of Khan Razirr'Ri and he now understood why the khajiit doors were so high. Despite his advanced age and many wrinkles, he exuded an aura of wisdom and strength. His voice was deep and gravelly as he spoke.

- "I have heard that your contract with the redgard merchant named kewan Madar has ended. So I would like to make you a proposal."

- "Would you like to hire us as mercenaries?", Flavia asked respectfully.

Of all the mercenaries present, she was probably the only one with the experience and authority to speak with the khan. The white khajiit nodded slowly and continued.

- "As you saw last night, someone tried to attack my daughter. He also seriously injured my son. I need effective and experienced people to ensure the protection of my children. My daughter, specifically."

- "Who is after your family?" the mercenary captain questioned.

- "I can't say for sure... I have made many enemies over the years. My men are already investigating this. Whoever he is, he is trying to come after me through my children and that is intolerable." He pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. "So I would like to hire you to provide protection for my daughter."

- "Don't you have enough guards for that?"

- "Not enough apparently, or else the events of last night would have had a less bitter outcome."

- "How long will we have to protect her?"

- "Until all danger has passed. "

- "That could be a long time. "

- "It could be. But you will be paid accordingly, and generously. "

Flavia remained silent for a moment and turned to her comrades. Gunnar nodded at once, followed by Alberic, albeit grudgingly. The last one, Imril, finally agreed in turn with a certain nonchalance.

- "We accept your offer, Lord Razirr'Ri," the former legionaire declared, pressing her fist against her chest.

- "Your assistance will be invaluable to us and I thank you for it. This is Captain Tasarr 'Do. He is the head of my personal guard and will take care of writing your contract and providing you with the details."

After saluting them one last time, the khan dismissed his guests, who were led out of the hall by Captain Tasarr. Counselor Sakhar then stepped forward to speak to his master. He seemed preoccupied and cast a wary glance at the mercenaries who were leaving, waiting until they were out of sight to speak.

- "My lord, is this wise? We know almost nothing about these mercenaries. They know nothing of our customs and traditions. Perhaps they are even in league with last night's assassin."

- "I have thought long and hard about this, Sakhar," Razirr replied in a deep voice. "If they were involved, they wouldn't have brought my daughter back last night when she ran away."

- "Even so, can we trust them? They don't know the nature of the danger they're in, and we don't know how they'll react if they discover the truth."

- "I've thought about that, too. Not many people know about last night's incident and I'd rather have them on the lookout to make sure they don't talk about what they saw. That is why you and Captain Tasarr'Do will accompany them."

The old khajiit remains silent for a moment, hesitant to continue.

- "So you are determined to keep your daughter away?"

- "To ensure her safety, yes." Razirr winced at the thought. "I will stay here and watch over my son. At the same time, we will spread the word of my daughter's death to keep out other assassins."

- "That is risky, my lord. Especially if these foreigners can't hold their tongues."

- "I have given my orders... if they should betray us in any way, Tasarr will deal with them. I'm also counting on you to watch them. Will you do it?"

- "I live only to serve you, my lord."

The old khajiit bowed in greeting to the khan before retiring in turn. Now alone in the courtroom, Lord Razirr'Ri sighed deeply as he fell back into his chair.

He sincerely hoped he had made the right choice.

* * * * *

In one of the caravanserais on the outskirts of Rimmen, Khajiit workers were busy. They were stacking crates and gathering supplies for a long journey, checking cart wheels and saddling up horses and camels. Alberic watched them from the corner of his eye while sharpening his sword with a stone. After his release from prison, he had recovered his armor, weapons and some personal items. However, he was not surprised to find his purse empty and he was convinced that his jailer had somehow diminished it. It was therefore with distrust and a certain contempt that he looked at the cat men and women who were working around him.

- "We'll be ready to leave after the zenith." Flavia's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Make sure you're ready."

- "I don't understand." The young breton frowned.

- "About what?"

- "I thought we were supposed to be protecting someone... so why are we escorting this caravan?"

- "Because the person to be protected will be part of the journey."

- "So why go? Wouldn't we be safer inside the city walls?"

- "Our employer disagrees and we have to respect his requests. You ask a lot of questions, Al'..." She looked at him sharply and the boy shivered at her stern eye. "Do you remember what I told you?"

- "Yes..." He lowered his eyes. "Not a word about our mission to anyone. I'll be careful, Captain."

- "You better be," she warned him. "Otherwise I will personally see to it that you are punished."

Alberic nodded silently. He knew how stern Flavia could be, and during their journey through the desert of Elsweyr, she had had several guards whipped for their failings. But despite the sternness in her eyes, he could also see that she was concerned.

- "You seem concerned, Captain," he dared to ask. "Is something wrong?"

- "Mmmmh... I don't know yet, Al'. Maybe it's just my imagination..." She turned her gaze to the preparations for the caravan. "Don't let that stop you from keeping your tongue in check and staying alert."

- "Yes, captain."

She nodded at him and walked away. Alberic turned his attention back to the caravans. Ever since he'd left his cell, he'd been staring at every khajiit he came across, hoping to find the girl from the market, the one he'd spent the night in jail for. He still remembered her spotted fur and the strange look of her eyes. But Rimmen was a big city and he hadn't seen the end of her muzzle since the incident in the bazaar. She was probably far away by now, and he came to believe that he would not see her again. It was undoubtedly better like that.

On her side, Flavia inspected the last preparations of the trip. Even though everything was taken care of by Lord Razirr'Ri, she wanted to check everything in person. An old habit from when she still served in the Imperial Legion. She looked at Gunnar who was helping the khajiits by carrying the heavier boxes. His presence in the convoy reassured her for she could always count on his strength and loyalty. He would know how to remain discreet and hold his tongue... at least, as long as he remained sober. Fortunately for her, and unfortunately for him, the mead that the Nord was so fond of was very difficult to find in these southern regions. However, she would keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't get drunk with wine or beer.

She also noticed Captain Tasarr'Do and a dozen of his men. They had exchanged their armor and colors for more ordinary clothes. Dressed like this, they looked like simple caravaneers. The Khajiit captain was doing his best to keep their mission secret.

Flavia finally came across the Altmer mage, Imril. Still dressed in his extravagant robes, the elf sat in the shade, waving a fan to cool off in the already hot late morning. As one might expect from a high elf mage, he was reluctant to help with the preparations for the trip, no doubt finding the physical tasks unworthy of his rank. After a brief hesitation, Flavia finally approached him.

- "Master Imril." she greeted him reverently.

- "Captain Flavia."

- "I would like to ask you a few questions, if you agree to answer them."

- "Please," the high elf agreed, pointing to an empty seat.

The captain took a seat beside him before speaking again.

- "Why did you accept this contract? I thought you were in Kewan Madar's good graces and that he still had work to offer you."

- "The truth is, Captain, my contract with the Redgard merchant ended at the same time as yours. Moreover, Lord Razirr'Ri has a great reputation among the Khajiit clan leaders. Working in his service has certain advantages... not to mention the pay."

- "I wouldn't have thought you venal, master mage." She raised an eyebrow.

- "Even a mage of my talent needs money to live... and life is always easier with a full purse."

Flavia greeted the answer with a nod before questioning the mage again.

- "One last question... why didn't you intervene last night? Your magic would have been very useful to us in stopping that assassin."

- "Well..." The altmer mage hesitated for a brief moment before answering. "I had drunk a lot of wine that night and I'm afraid I got drunk. Casting spells when you're not at full concentration can be very dangerous. Besides, you did very well from what I heard. I wish I had been there to put out the fire, though. My cryomancer powers would have brought those flames under control in no time."

- "I understand," she finally replied, standing up. "I'm sure your powers will come in handy if the enemy decides to strike again."

The mage nodded with pride as the captain returned to inspecting the caravan. Everything was done conscientiously and in great detail. They would soon be ready to leave and in the best possible condition.

Everything seemed to be in order and yet... Flavia could not get this bad feeling out of her head.

* * * * *

The high priest Jaro was pacing back and forth in the inner chamber of the shrine, nervous and anxious. It had been several hours since dawn and he had yet to hear from Brother Rilos.

- "He's late..." he muttered through clenched teeth. "By Oblivion, where can he be?"

- "He's not late," a voice whispered from the entrance to the room.

The khajiit priest looked back at Dronos. The dunmer was as darkly dressed as his brother, and his hard gaze glowed in the darkness. He stared at Jaro without a hint of emotion on his face.

- "What are you saying, brother Dronos?"

- "My brother is not late. He's not coming back."

- "How do you know that?" the priest questioned, raising an eyebrow.

- "I know it... and I feel it."

Jaro stared at the dark elf in silence. He and his brother had been assassins long before they joined the cult, and they rarely mingled with other adeptes. They preferred to keep to themselves and spent long hours meditating together. They never spoke of their past, but the Khajiit priest guessed that the bond between them probably went back to their childhood. He had been suspicious of them from the moment they joined the cult, for the dark elves were known for their secrecy and love of plots[1]. But Jaro could not deny their incredible efficiency when it came to killing or acting as spies. They had performed all the tasks he had given them without fail.

Until today.

- "Should I take over my brother's mission?" asked Dronos without any emotion, as if his brother's supposed death did not affect him.

- "No. The situation must have changed, and old Razirr'Ri has surely reinforced his guard. Now that they know of our return, they will only be more cautious."

- "So what do we do?"

- "We cannot act without thinking... we need more information. Perhaps the dreamer can help us..." The high priest stroked his chin, looking thoughtful, before turning back to the dunmer. "As for you, you are going to spy on the khan's house. I want you to report everything you see and hear. Be as discreet as possible and don't get caught."

This last warning was superfluous, but Dronos nodded slowly in response. He silently stepped back and disappeared into the dark corridors of the sanctuary, leaving the high priest alone with his thoughts.

- "That complicates things...", the priest muttered to himself. "I'll have to inform the master. "

This thought alone made him shudder and the hairs on his back bristled. It was always delicate to announce a bad news to a daedra.

* * * * *

Shazira ran a hand over her brother's cheek to caress him tenderly. Sharr'Ri was still fast asleep, lying on the bed in his room.

His wound was deep, and the healers had spent all night at his bedside to save him. Master Tauryon's skills had been invaluable in this regard, and the prince probably would not have made it through the night without his help. But for all his skills, the old altmer had made sure that he would never be able to use his right arm as well as he did. He could never hold a weapon again.

The princess held back her tears as she nestled her face in her brother's neck. He meant the world to her as he was one of the few people she could see regularly in her isolation and a strong bond had developed between them. Sometimes he accompanied her when she ran away to keep an eye on her and he did not hesitate to defend her to their father. He too did not understand why his sister had to stay locked up like that. Now he was lying on his bed, plunged into a deep sleep after the doctors had made him drink a decoction based on blisterwort[2].

She would not be able to say goodbye to him as she would have liked.

- "Are you ready?" said a deep voice behind her back.

She hadn't heard her father arrive, so concerned was she about her brother's condition. The khan Razirr'Ri stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder.

- "He won't wake up for several moons...say goodbye and prepare to leave."

Shazira sniffed to swallow a flood of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She was unrecognizable in her clothes, for she no longer wore her beautiful princess finery of brightly colored spider silk, nor her silver or gold jewelry. She was dressed in more modest fabrics, like those worn by the majority of Khajiit commoners. There had even been talk of dyeing her fur, but she had refused energetically and it would have taken too long.

- "Why?" she asked. "Why do I have to go?"

Her father did not answer. He remained impassive despite his daughter's pain and sadness.

- "You have kept me locked up close to you since I was born. And now that my brother is suffering, I should leave instead of looking after him? I don't understand..."

- "Little Shazi..." he began in a soft voice. "It's a long story... a complicated story. When it's all over, I'll tell you."

The young khajiit said nothing as she released her brother, looking dejected and resigned. The khan Razirr'Ri, unyielding as he was, was not deaf to his child's distress. Her sadness was his own. He knelt beside her, bending his tall figure to look at his daughter with a look of sorrow, concern and pain.

- "Shazira, my daughter... look at me." His voice was surprisingly weak. "Everything I have done until today was for your sake and safety. And even today, I am protecting you by keeping you away from me."

- "I don't understand..." the princess repeated as she let her father hug her.

- "When it's all over... you will understand."

He hugged his daughter as tightly as he could, soaking up her scent one last time while listening to her little heartbeat. He finally stood up, and that simple act took him a lot of willpower. His words required even more.

- "Come on, little moon... time to go."

The princess nodded silently before turning to her brother one last time. She bent down to lick his forehead affectionately. She watched for the slightest reaction from him, a whisper or a flutter of the eyelids... but he remained still and silent.

- "Goodbye, big brother," she finally whispered in his ear.

Guided by her father, she shuffled out of the room. They walked through several deserted corridors to the servants quarters. There, Captain Tasarr'Do was waiting for them, along with Councilor Sakhar. They were both dressed as ordinary merchants and travelers.

- "Everything is ready, my lord," said the captain of the guards. "We await only your order to depart."

- "Very well," the khan replied darkly. "Captain Tasarr'Do, Councilor Sakhar... I leave my daughter in your care. Take the utmost care of her."

- "I will protect her at the risk of my life," Tasarr promised.

The khan nodded at this answer. He expected no less from the son of his blood brother. He looked at the princess one last time, and sadness was in his eyes.

- "This is just goodbye, little Shazi." He took her face in his hands to lick her forehead. "We'll see each other again very soon. I promise you that."

- "Goodbye, Father." The young khajiit could hardly hold back her tears and she couldn't help but hug her father, purring softly despite the situation.

Razirr'Ri struggled to break away from her embrace as he felt his heart clench in his chest.

- "Go... go, now," he managed to say. "And behave yourself."

The princess turned away from him to join Captain Tasarr, who led her out of the outbuilding through the door usually used by employees. Two guards disguised as travelers were waiting outside to escort them through the city.

- "Is this really what you want?" asked Councilor Sakhar, who had remained at the khan's side.

- "You do not approve of my decision?", Razirr replied darkly while watching his daughter walk away.

- "I will obey your orders, my lord, for I am loyal to you. But I still maintain that the princess would be safer within the palace walls."

- "She would be too exposed, here... more assassins will come, and in greater numbers this time. They won't give up so easily..."

- "What about these foreigners? Why bring them into this?"

- "I don't have enough men to protect me and my daughter," sighed the khan. "You should know that. Besides, they know Shazira is alive. If I spread a rumor of her death and they start talking about what happened last night..."

- "Even so, they might betray us. They are only mercenaries, after all. If the enemy decided to pay them more than we do..." the old khajiit added scornfully.

- "I'm well aware of that... which is also why you'll have to keep an eye on them at the same time you keep an eye on my daughter."

Counselor Sakhar looked at him silently before sighing. Although he did not agree with the khan, he was still his servant above all else.

- "It shall be done as you wish, Lord Razirr'Ri."

* * * * *

The caravan set out shortly after noon, as soon as the last of the provisions and water were loaded into the wagons. Once in the desert, there would be no turning back.

It was a Khajiit merchant caravan like so many others, with its carts and trailers made of colored and engraved wood, pulled by strong draft horses. Dromedaries and camels with grotesque gait carried the rest of the goods or served as mounts. Except for the mercenaries, all were khajiits, suthay and cathay, and walked along the convoy when they were not driving the carts. They were dressed in heavy clothing and wore large turbans to protect themselves from the heat. It was amusing to note that their muzzles and cat ears protruded from their headgear[3]. In all, there were about forty individuals, six carts and two wagons that were now raising the dust of the desert as they passed.

Some wore long, curved swords on their belts. Captain Tasarr's guards were unrecognizable without their armor or clothing in their lord's colors, and they blended in perfectly. The desert of Elsweyr was a dangerous place, so it was common for merchant convoys traveling through it to hire guards or mercenaries for protection.

They left Rimmen with other caravans, so that they went completely unnoticed, for the caravanserais of the capital never slept, and every day processions of carts and wagons came and went to load and unload their goods as would have ships in a port. The desert was an ocean, and the caravans were the ships and vessels that crossed it tirelessly. But unlike the sea, there was no cool sea air to relieve the caravaneers from the bite of the sun.

Alberic had already had trouble with the heat on his first trip across the Anequina Desert. Then he had spent a rather bad night in the palace cells where he had found little rest. And now he was once again treading the hot sands of northern Elsweyr, overwhelmed by the suffocating heat that always seemed to prevail in this land. He had taken the example of the Khajiit caravaneers and protected his head with a turban that he had previously wet in one of the fountains of the caravanserai. Thus coiffed, the sun's rays were already much more bearable and the young Breton was pleased with his idea. He remained pragmatic, however, because he knew that several days, even weeks of trying travel awaited them. There would be dust, thirst, wild animals and perhaps even bandits. He knew that he had not finished cursing this country and its people.

The young Breton walked along the side of the road, where he could keep an eye on the surroundings. The many rocky outcroppings that dotted the Elsweyr desert were ideal hiding spots for anyone who wanted to set up an ambush. However, they were still close enough to Rimmen to enjoy some security, and patrols of Khajiit guards watched the roads around the capital.

Captain Flavia was experienced enough, however, not to give in to this false sense of security. Her experience had taught her that troubles often tends to fall upon you precisely when you are not expecting them. She remained at the head of the convoy, alongside Captain Tasarr'Do who was now the leader of this small expedition. His men were deployed on the sides of the caravan, their senses alert and ready to react to the slightest danger.

Alberic remained suspicious, however, and would have preferred to have fewer khajiits in their group. These cat men quickly annoyed him with their cunning, their lies and their false courtesy. It certainly wouldn't make the trip any better for him...

- "Stop pouting, Al'," a laughing voice thundered from behind his back before a chocky hand came down on his shoulder. "You look like you're about to spit out your whey."

The young man frowned as he glared at Gunnar. If he found the Nord's frank comradeship pleasant, he could also find him very irritating with his rough and direct ways.

- "We're going to have to cross this damn desert again..." he grumbled. "We're going to die of thirst again and sweat until we fill a lake. I don't see why I should be happy.

- "Bah!" retorted Gunnar, laughing. "We're seeing some beautiful things, too. Look at that beautiful landscape!" He pointed to the bleak desert expanse that surrounded them with a wave of his hand before pointing to the sky. "And at least it's not raining!"

And with that, he left with a loud laugh as he left the young breton there before walking up the column of wagons. The permanent and noisy enthusiasm of the Nord was always so disconcerting and Alberic wondered then if all his compatriots shared this trait of character.

Gunnar finally reached Flavia at the head of the procession.

- "Nice weather, huh?" he tossed out, still in his usual good humor before taking a more serious tone. "How does it look?"

- "With us, that makes eighteen armed and trained guards. That's more than enough to defend us during the trip," she answered soberly.

- "But?"

- "Hopefully there will be little more than bandits to threaten us on the journey."

- "You think the big cat didn't tell us everything?"

- "Possibly... that's what I would do too if I didn't want to worry the soldiers under my command." She grimaced before continuing, still in a low voice. "If I knew what we were likely to face, I could prepare myself accordingly. But right now..."

The two mercenaries remained silent for a moment as they continued to walk. Not knowing what lay ahead was probably the worst fear a soldier could have. Uncertainty gnawed at him to the bone, making him lose all common sense and fantasize about the dangers he imagined he was walking into. Fortunately, Flavia had too much experience to let herself go into panic or anxiety. As for Gunnar, if he wasn't as disciplined as a legion soldier, he was still a Nord. And Nords were fearless by nature and loved to fight[4]. On the other hand, Alberic was far less experienced than Flavia, and far less belligerent and vindictive than Gunnar. It would be prudent to keep an eye on the boy, she thought.

- "What do you think of our opponent last night?" she resumed.

- "Fast and agile. He handled his daggers well and my jaw still remembers it." Gunnar scratched his beard thoughtfully. "He was no ordinary assassin if you ask me."

- "I think so too. He preferred to immolate himself than to let himself be captured... a member of the Morag Tong?[5]"

- "I don't know... he didn't have their armor."

- "Whoever Lord Razirr'Ri's enemies are, they have powerful agents in their service."

Flavia passed her thumb under her eye patch. It was a nervous tic she'd had since losing her right eye and it always made Alberic uncomfortable.

- "And I'm sure we haven't heard the last of them."

Notes:

[1] Dark Elf society is divided and influenced by five great noble houses. Far from being unified, these houses are constantly engaged in a struggle for power and influence.

[2] A variety of mushroom growing in Tamriel. It is highly prized by alchemists and healers for its healing and soothing properties.

[3] Like most cats, khajiits do not like to be confined in any way, shape or form. They are always careful to keep their ears and noses uncovered to make the most of their hearing and sense of smell. The same goes for their feline tails, which they always leave protruding from their clothes and also wear shoes adapted to their particular morphology.

[4] The Nords of Skyrim are famous for their love of fighting, whether it is a simple tavern brawl or a full-scale battle between two armies. Their culture and their songs (which they call saga) give a special importance to the feats of arms.

[5] Cult and guild of assassins of dark elf origin with extremely codified rules. The Morag Tong is more or less tolerated by the Dunmer authorities depending on the period (and the needs).