V

Particularly impressive was the large mirror that sat on a stone platform in the center of the inner sanctum chamber. It was eight feet high, ovoid in shape, and ringed with gold. Its surface was smooth and black as obsidian and struggled to reflect the light of the braziers. On the contrary, it seemed to swallow it.

A sepulchral silence reigned in this place, only disturbed by the crackling of embers and torches. The high priest Jaro, still dressed in his long black robes, knelt down in front of the strange object while placing his staff on the steps of the platform. He breathed in deeply as he tried to stop his body from shaking. Speaking directly to a daedra could be very trying... even fatal.

These supernatural beings from Oblivion were feared throughout Tamriel, for they were always associated with evil and darkness... they were demons, after all. And yet, there were always mortals to be lured by their promises of power and wealth. These foolish and unaware people would gather in secret cults to build altars where they could worship their dark masters out of sight. They prayed, sometimes with fanatical fervor, seeking the favors of their immortal lords in exchange for their devotion. Sometimes the lords would grant them what they sought, but in such a way that they would end up regretting it sooner or later. This rarely deterred these acolytes, however, and the daedras always managed to find sympathetic ears for their promises[1].

- "Master Ophia..." the Khajiit priest said in a solemn but trembling voice. "Your humble servant appeals to the grace of your darkness."

The ritual phrase slipped between his lips like a whisper as he called the attention of the summoned daedra to himself. The black surface of the great mirror rippled feverishly, as if it had been made of water held upright by some strange sorcery. The flames of the torches flickered for a moment, though there was no wind inside the chamber. At last a voice rang out, seductive and androgynous, one moment taking on a masculine intonation, the next a feminine accent. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

- "Well... if it isn't my favorite cat priest."

Jaro felt the voice cross his body and graze his bones like so many ungodly caresses, making him feel a mixture of revulsion and desire.

- "What do you desire, cutie?" This last word had been spoken as if the khajiit was a sweet.

- "I have come to give you news and ask for your advice... oh master of the snakes of Oblivion."

- "Well... I am waiting, little cat. What news do you bring me?"

- "As you ordered us, we tried to bring you your bride."

- "Aaaah yes, the little moon pearl for my collection." The voice was a whisper where sadistic pleasure pierced. "Where is she? I don't see her."

- "In truth..." The priest's voice betrayed a growing anxiety. "We have not succeeded in fulfilling your wishes, Master."

Silence reigned again in the burial chamber, and this time even the crackling of the embers seemed to have fallen silent. Eventually the voice from beyond the grave echoed again, making the black-furred khajiit's hair stand on end.

- "I see..." Her tone was strangely indifferent. "What a pity, it would have been a wonderful present to celebrate my return..."

Jaro was surprised to find that his master was taking this bad news with a curious nonchalance... until the daedra finished her sentence.

- "...to celebrate my revenge." This last word was spoken in a woman's voice filled with hatred.

Tendrils of black energy, like long snakes of darkness, shot out of the mirror and fell on the khajiit priest, who yelped in pain as he felt his body crushed by the demon's power. It was like feeling the invisible hand of a giant crushing your physical body and your spirit at the same time. When he heard his voice again, it was a painful echo that now resounded inside his head.

- "Well, little kitten... what do you propose to do to correct this delay?"

- "I... gnnnh... we'll do it again!" the priest whined. "We'll... we'll bring her back to you, as promised!"

- "As promised?" The daedra seemed amused. "You've already promised me a lot, little kitten, and so far..."

The snakes of darkness eased over the khajiit's body and mind, relieving him of a previously unbearable weight. As he caught his breath, his master's tendrils left his body in a final, sensual caress that made him shiver and he found himself regretting that supernatural embrace.

- "You always kept your promises," finished the hissing voice that once again echoed in the air rather than inside his skull. "I may well give you a second chance."

- "M... thank you, Lord Ophia... it shall be done as you wish." he gasped.

- "I hope so, little kitten. And with my wishes fulfilled..." The hissing turned into a whisper of nameless sensuality. "Yours would be too."

The high priest Jaro shuddered at this last sentence, seized with a furious desire to listen to that voice again, to feel the black snakes running through his fur one last time, and to let himself sink into this darkness that held promises as revolting as they were enticing. When he finally came to his senses, the flames of the torches no longer flickered, the embers crackled in their braziers and the surface of the great mirror was smooth again.

The daedra was gone.

The khajiit sat up on feverish legs. Conversing with a daedra was always a painful experience, especially with this one. But despite his fatigue and weakness, he did not forget that his lord's threats were just as real as her promises. He had to find this cursed princess as soon as possible.

The question was now: where could she be hiding?

* * * * *

Shazira pulled aside the silk curtain to look through one of the small skylights that pierced the walls of her trailer. The interior of the trailer had been arranged to be as comfortable as possible. There was a small mattress and a number of cushions to lie on. Fruit and drinks were also available in abundance in silverware. Everything had been thought of and installed to make the trip as pleasant as possible for its only passenger.

But in spite of all this luxury and comfort, the young khajiit couldn't take her eyes off the window and the landscape that passed by outside with a certain monotony. It was always the same sand dunes, the same cactus and the same red rocks, and yet she found the sight incredibly exhilarating. She couldn't remember the last time she had been outside the walls of Rimmen. The sadness of having to leave her people was now replaced by a growing excitement and curiosity. It was more than she had ever dreamed of seeing during one of her many runaways.

She now felt like a traveler and dreamed of discovering what lay beyond these endless sands.

But for now, she was content with the vision of the desert with golden sands under the sun. Even the sight of dried bones that sometimes appeared on the side of the road did not seem to diminish her enthusiasm. The princess tried to guess which beasts they might belong to and how they ended up here.

She also looked at the Khajiit caravaneers who accompanied the convoy, finding in their clothes, turbans and swagger a part of what made her people so special. It didn't take long for her to imagine herself as a simple traveling merchant, crisscrossing the kingdom of Elsweyr and crossing borders to discover a world she had, until then, only known through her books. In fact, she already looked like one with the clothes she was wearing and she was looking forward to feeling her clawed toes on the warm sand.

There were not only khajiits escorting them, however, and Shazira recognized the three strangers who had taken her back to her father the day before. She winced as she looked at the tall, bearded man, the one who had caught her red-handed while trying to steal his purse. Her muzzle frowned reflexively as she remembered the smell of grease coming from his shaggy beard. There was also this one-eyed, austere woman who gave Shazira the chills every time she stared at her with her one eye. As for the altmer, he seemed to disdain walking and enjoyed the somewhat rudimentary comfort of one of the carts. There was also this simple-looking boy she swore she had seen somewhere before.

That's it! She remembered him now, despite his turban and the bruises on his face after the guards had given him a good beating.

He was the poor boy she had bumped into yesterday during her little chase in the East End bazaar. The princess smiled as she remembered how easily she had tricked him into covering up her escape. These strangers could be so gullible sometimes, but she felt relieved to see that he hadn't been too badly damaged either. She probably would have felt some remorse if he had been killed because of her. This gave her an idea.

This trip was going to be even more fun than she had anticipated.

* * * * *

The first day's travel was uneventful, except for the sweltering afternoon heat that made the horizon ripple. The caravan had traveled a good distance and was now stopping to set up camp as dusk approached. The sun was already an orange disc, like an overripe fruit that was slowly falling from the sky to let the first stars appear.

While this was an enchanting sight for most observers, Alberic had seen it far too many times in the past few days to know what it meant to him. The temperature was about to drop sharply, making him shiver in his bedroll. He was surprised to see the unlikely contrast between the stifling heat of the day and the freezing cold of the nights in this country. This was another reason for him to hate it.

He was on fire duty tonight and carried in his arms the logs that would allow them to light the campfires for the night. The young mercenary had found this first day more than tolerable and he was getting used to the bite of the sun on his now tanned skin. His turban had effectively protected him from possible sunstroke and the water supply was still plentiful enough to quench his thirst. It could have been much worse, and he knew it. He wondered if he should not take example of Gunnar and his eternal optimism. Despite the ordeals that he knew awaited him, he did not see how this crossing of the desert could be more detestable than the first one.

- "I see the guards didn't do too much damage to you. Good for you," a laughing voice echoed behind his back.

Alberic frowned as he stared at the young khajiit, who looked up at him with a smile on her face and fists on her hips. He didn't recognise her at first, with her traveller's clothes and turban wrapped around her head. But he couldn't forget her strange look. His eyes widened in amazement as he finally recognised the little troublemaker from the market.

- "How have you been since yesterday?" she said, still smiling teasingly.

- "You ?!" the young mercenary thundered.

In surprise and anger, he dropped the logs he was carrying and they fell heavily on his feet, causing him to cry out in pain. The young breton jumped on one foot, causing the princess to laugh.

- "Damn cat ! I'm going to..." roared Alberic as he pounced on her.

Clearly, Shazira had not expected such a display of anger and resentment from him and it was with some surprise on her face that she leapt aside to avoid the charge. The boy seemed particularly upset with her, forcing her to take refuge behind a stack crates containing the provisions for the trip.

- "Come here and I'll pull your whiskers out !" the breton growled.

The two teenagers played a game of cat and mouse for a while, circling the crates, but the khajiit was much faster and more agile than he was at this game, escaping from him each time with a laugh. She seemed to be having a lot of fun.

- "Oh come on ! Don't be so spiteful," she tried to defend herself. "It really was no big deal !"

- "No big deal ?!" Alberic's face was flushed, but it was hard to tell if it was from the heat of the day or from anger. "First I got beaten up by the guards before spending the night in a bloody cell !"

- "Well, okay... maybe that went too far," the princess conceded, once again dodging the hands that tried to grab her. "But it ended well, yes ?"

- "Oh yes ! It will end well !" He seemed hardly inclined to calm down. "When I have given you a good thrashing !"

The young khaji yelped in surprise when he finally managed to grab her by the tail, causing her to fall on her buttocks in the sand. With a triumphant smile on his lips, the breton was about to pounce on her when a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him from carrying out his revenge.

- "That's enough, Al'!"

Flavia quickly got him to his feet and the princess took advantage of the distraction to take refuge behind the food crates. The one-eyed woman looked coldly at Alberic as she held him by the collar.

- "C... captain!" He immediately pulled himself together and stood at attention.

His anger had vanished instantly and he now felt a chill run through him at the stern authority of his superior. When she spoke again, her voice was full of reproach.

- "Well, if you ruin the one we're supposed to protect, we're gonna get paid a lot less... or worse."

- "Protect?" He raised an eyebrow before opening his eyes wide. "What?! Don't tell me she's the prin..."

- "Indeed!" she cut him off curtly to keep him from saying anything stupid out loud. "Then you'd better watch your manners... and your tongue too."

Alberic immediately looked sheepish, aware that he had almost given away the secret of their mission. Now calmer, it was only now that he noticed that several of the Khajiit caravaneers had interrupted their tasks to observe the scene with an amused eye. Now that the situation had calmed down, they dispersed to continue setting up camp.

- "Well... Go back to your work, Al’. I'll find you a chore to do later," Flavia decreed in a calmer voice before turning her single eye towards Shazira. "As for you, miss, go back to your trailer. You'll be safer there."

- "I... I don't need to be protected." She looked nervous in front of the former legionnaire. "And I don't have to take orders from you! "

- "Do as she says," came a new voice, calm and collected.

It was Captain Tasarr'Do who had been listening to the conversation for a while and was now approaching the princess. He was similar to Flavia, calm and austere in his bearing. So it was with a certain authority that he now looked down on her.

- "You may leave the trailer when the camp is set up and secure," he said, towering over her with his imposing height. "And only under good guard. Have I made myself clear?"

Shazira was silent for a moment, clearly reluctant to obey and still with a rebellious glint in her eye.

- "Or I could very well have you locked in your wagon until the end of the journey if you prefer."

This last threat, thinly veiled and uttered with the utmost seriousness, finally convinced the princess to comply. She gave one last defiant look before returning to her trailer, looking proud and haughty. Alberic was much less hesitant and, after one last look from his superior, hurried to pick up the logs he had dropped before leaving.

The Khajiit captain watched him walk away with a slight smirk before joining Flavia.

- "You seem to have your men well in hand," he said in a neutral tone. "That's reassuring to see."

- "And your little princess seems to be a strong head," Flavia replied in an even tone. "That is far less reassuring if we consider our mission."

- "I've known her since she was a kitten. But don't worry, she's aware of what's at stake... she won't make too much of a fuss if we ask her firmly. I didn't know you'd met her before, though."

- "Oh that? A little story about nothing at all." She shook her head. "I'll tell it to you if you like, but for now, we need to post sentries and do some reconnaissance of the surrounding area."

Captain Tasarr'Do nodded politely before following his counterpart's lead. They still had a lot to do before everyone could rest.

- "In any case...", Flavia said while passing her thumb under her eye patch. "We won't get bored."

* * * * *

After this little incident, the camp was quickly set up on the roadside. Tents had been erected to form a semi-circle around fires whose glow pushed back the darkness of the night. Dark figures stood at the edge of the camp, alone or in pairs. They were Captain Tasarr's sentries standing guard. The night was now filled with the sound of conversation and the crackling of fireplaces as the caravanners rested over a hot meal.

Alberic couldn't relax though.

On the other side of the fire, he was staring balefully at Princess Shazira, who was not above giving him a sulky, snide look. She was sitting cross-legged next to the Khajiit captain and the old advisor Sakhar, who were keeping a watchful eye on her. They had been silently staring at each other for almost half an hour now, and it was not helping the young Breton's mood. The young khajiit finally stuck her tongue out at him with a mocking and childish look. If it had been up to him, he would have jumped up to teach the cheeky girl some manners. But just as Shazira was being watched by her guards, so was he and he could feel Flavia's gaze on his back. The captain was determined that the little scene from earlier would not happen again.

- "Can I ask a question, Captain?" he finally asked to change the subject.

- "I'm listening, Al'."

- "Where are we going?"

- "Are you tired of walking already?"

- "I'm just curious. After all, there's no point in walking if you don't know where you're going, right?"

- "You have a point," she conceded. "By order of Khan Razirr'Ri, we're heading south to the Pellitine[2] border. To his sister's house, to be precise."

- "How far is that?"

- "About two weeks' march, provided we don't run into any problems along the way."

- "Great..." Alberic sighed.

Two weeks of travelling with this insufferable princess would put his nerves to the test. He also feared that the heat would only increase as they progressed south. He had already had trouble with the crossing of the northern desert of Elsweyr...

- "Is his sister a lord, too?"

- "No, a merchant from what I've heard, but I don't know more than that."

Alberic merely nodded silently. He had wanted to change the subject to try to forget the khajiit who continued to glare at him from the other side of the fire, but now he was learning that the trip was going to be long and probably very hot. This didn't really help his mood. He let his gaze slide over the caravaneers, eager not to give the princess the satisfaction of having drawn him into another staring match.

The Khajiits were sitting cross-legged on small colourful rugs and chatting loudly among themselves in their native language. They all had a plate or bowl filled with what appeared to be a meat stew and were passing a large dish between them which contained a curious spice. It was white and glowed slightly under the light of the fires, looking vaguely like sugar or salt. Each of the caravaneers would gratefully grab the dish to take a handful of its contents and sprinkle it over their own meal. They would then pass the spice dish to their neighbour who would repeat the ritual.

- "What is this?", Alberic eventually asked, intrigued by the scene.

- "Moon sugar[3]," replied Imril, the Altmer mage.

- "Moon sugar?"

- "Yes, the Khajiits consume large quantities of it and put it in almost everything they eat. "

One of the caravaneers female stood up and handed the dish of moon sugar to the young Breton with a kind smile on her lips. The boy hesitated for a brief moment, still wary, before extending a hand to accept.

- "I wouldn't recommend taking it, though, young man," the mage interrupted him. "A person who is not used to eating it might wake up with a hell of a hangover."

Alberic paused and looked at Flavia out of the corner of his eye. The captain looked at him disapprovingly and he politely refused the plate of moon sugar with a wave of his hand, not wanting to incur the wrath of his superior again. Not offended, the khajiit smiled and passed the plate around again.

- "Is it that strong?" the young mercenary asked.

- "The word is weak." Imril smiled, "Once, I remember, Master Alorion, who was my mentor, inadvertently took some. He spent the whole night dancing naked in the great fountain of the academy... a memorable sight."

At these words, the young Breton congratulated himself for not having succumbed to his curiosity. There was no way he was going to humiliate himself in front of so many spectators, and even less so in front of the Khajiit princess, who would not fail to mock him and remind him of it during the whole trip.

- "Where is Gunnar?" asked Alberic. "I thought he would be eating with us."

- "He's on guard duty with Captain Tasarr'Do's sentries," Flavia replied.

- "You don't trust the khajiit, Captain?" Imril smiled wryly.

- "Of course I do. But let's just say I trust Gunnar even more."

- "How I understand you... it is true that these nords have a reputation for being very good when it comes to fighting."

Not only did the khajiits have a reputation for being dishonest and cunning, they were also portrayed as lazy people who spent far more time than necessary sleeping and napping. However, Flavia doubted that the men of the khan's personal guard would let themselves be so lax. She was just very demanding and, after all, she and her mercenaries were also part of the caravan.

- "Don't eat too much, Al'," she lectured the young breton. "I don't want you to fall asleep on your watch."

- "Me?" He raised an eyebrow. "We've got the Khajiit guards to keep an eye on the area, don't we?"

- "You didn't think I'd forget that little ruckus you caused earlier so easily, did you?" She smiled coldly at him. "I suggest you get some sleep. Gunnar will come and wake you up when it's your turn. You will stay up until dawn."

- "A... aye, Captain."

Alberic would have protested, but he knew that if he started to whine, he would soon get another chore. Flavia had been very strict with him during the first trip and there was little chance that her temper would improve since then. It was best to obey.

He put down his half-full plate and returned to the tent he shared with the other mercenaries, except for the Altmer mage who had his own tent. That one stood out a little among the others, woven in royal blue with silver embroidery that drew elegant arabesques on its surface. On the way, he completely ignored the amused and provocative look that Princess Shazira gave him. He was too tired to engage in another quarrel and preferred to forget the insufferable khajiit for the night.

Once inside the tent, he dropped onto his bedroll. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling and could see the glow of the stars through the holes in the thick fabric. He grumbled as he sought sleep.

This trip was going to be particularly trying.

Notes:

[1] Despite popular belief, not all daedras are evil or prone to domination and evil. In some parts of Tamriel, there are more or less legal cults dedicated to the worship of these "good" daedras. The orcs, for example, worship Malacath, the daedra prince of bravery and honor. The dark elves worship Azura, the princess of dusk and dawn. The khajiits themselves hold her in high esteem as the creator of their race according to their legends. In spite of these few exceptions, the common people still have an evil and demonic vision of the daedras (which they are for the most part).

[2] Second region making up Elsweyr with the Anequina region.

[3] A sweet spice obtained from the sugar moon cane. A plant native to Elsweyr, moon sugar is omnipresent in Khajiit cooking and also has a mystical and religious significance. Khajiits are naturally very fond of sweets and do not hesitate to season all their dishes with moon sugar. Most foreigners find this habit strange, even disgusting.