Heading down the hill, we came to the dike leading into Windhelm. The ground was covered in thick, muddy slush and the grey stones did nothing to lift the cold feeling over my heart. A passing guard regarded my friend with an expression of disdain. "Leading this one to the market, eh?" she asked. When I turned to look at her and she saw my face clearly from under my hood, her scowl only deepened and she continued by without another word to me. Though I did hear her mutter, "Nothing but lowlifes in this city now-a-days."
Dismounting, I held the bridles of Burrs and Nael and made them look at me. "Get away from here and hide in the hills. We will call for you before we depart." Burrs turned and trotted off for the hills, whinnying excitedly at the thought of his own adventure. Nael pushed against my chest, unsure, before following Burrs, blowing in irritation.
Limping slowly through the gates and using Derkeethus as support, we passed into a cold, grey square dominated by an intimidating long house. People glanced at us furtively, never quite looking us in the eyes, and then they hurried along on their business. It was as if we didn't exist except on the edges of perception.
"Excuse me, do you know where--" "I'm only looking for the--" "Where's the White--" I would start to ask, only to be brusquely shoved by a shoulder and thrown off balance onto my bad leg. Wincing and gritting my teeth, I would try again with another person, only to be scoffed at and then ignored.
Desperately looking about, I spotted a Nord who did look at me full in the face before going about his chore of chopping wood.
"Listen, I don't want no trouble," he muttered quickly. "They see me talking to you and your Argonian there, I'll never see the end of it."
Staggering over to him, barely able to stand anymore, sweat standing out on my face and neck, "I don't want any trouble; I just want to know where the White Phial is." I watched the man almost sag with relief.
"Over by the market around the corner. Now go, the guard is coming." His lips barely moved as he answered.
"These things troubling you, Nils?" the guard asked, gesturing to us.
"Hey, I'm not a thing, pal!" growled Derkeethus, finally having had enough of being snubbed and scowled at. The guard tensed and his hand went to his mace.
"I got it handled, Engar. They were just leaving," he said, looking pointedly at me.
Slowly, with Derkeethus bearing almost all of my weight, we progressed up the short set of stairs and into the market. Upon seeing us, most patrons turned and stared. Some sneered unpleasantly, especially at seeing the Argonian. I spotted a couple of mer traders, and they looked at me in sympathy before quickly turning away.
And suddenly, there it was, The White Phial. I placed a heavy hand on the knob of the shop, and turned, feeling the chill of the metal seep into my overly heated skin.
Once inside, I looked about for a moment before spotting a thing of pure beauty the like of which I had never seen until this day. A chair. Sitting down, I almost wept with relief as I gingerly stretched my leg out in front of me.
"Better?" asked Derkeethus, smirking.
"Yesss." I sighed. Though, distantly, I felt the air was both too cold and too hot all at once. Finally having had time to rest since we left the hunter's camp, I became all too aware of precisely how weak I felt. A dull ache that had begun in my leg only the other day slowly gripped my head and squeezed with each pulse of my heart.
"A-hem." Jumping a little in my skin, I turned to see a young man staring at me in question. "May I help you?"
"My friend's ankle is severely broken and bruised. Do you have anything that can help her?"
"I'll admit, I don't know very much about powerful restorative potions. Come. Help me move your companion to the backroom while I get my master, Nurelion. I'm sure he can help you." Together they lifted me out of the chair and half-carried me to the backroom. I was set down on a moldering mattress of hay and old pelts. Lying there, I shivered uncontrollably, watching the objects around the room wobble in a sickeningly slow motion.
Derkeethus knelt worriedly over me until an aging Altmer entered the room with his apprentice in tow.
"Quintus what have you done now! Haven't I told you not to get mixed up in-- Oh dear," he crowed, his voice trailing into a quiet whisper upon seeing my condition. "Quintus, get the restorative potions from my quarters on the upper shelf!"
Quintus froze in the doorway for a moment, "But those are for--"
"Quickly, you idiot!" The Altmer coughed thickly.
I dimly heard his footsteps thumping on the floor above me, and through a hole in the floor, I saw his arm emerge with a blood red bottle. In my delirium, I cried out, thinking the ceiling had grown hands and was reaching down to grab me.
"Hold her still, lizard! If she spills even a drop, you're paying for every septim these ingredients cost!" Nurelion barked. I felt Derkeethus grip my head with his scaly hands. Nurelion uncorked the bottle and pried my mouth open with his thumb. Thriving only on instinct, I bit his thumb. Fast as a whip, he slapped me across the face. The pain gave me back some degree of clarity for a moment. "See this?" he said, waving the bottle in front of my face. It swayed back and forth with a vague afterimage. "You're going to drink all of this."
I felt the lip of the bottle against my lips and drank the liquid. Grimacing I tried to shake the bottle away. It tasted like rotting meat mixed with something sweet. "Drink it, Henny," Derkeethus encouraged. The liquid felt like fire going down my throat, then ice when it hit my stomach. After emptying the small bottle, I fell into a lifeless kind of sleep.
For the next few weeks, I was fed that same potion every night before sleep. My fever quickly disappeared and it wasn't long before I was able to hobble around the shop. When I could stand for an hour at a time, Nurelion put me to work keeping the place swept up and fetching ingredients. Of course, he forbade me to wear any armor or weaponry while working as it would unsettle his customers.
In gratitude for the potion, I gave him all of the dragon ingredients I had collected since leaving Darkwater Crossing. He seemed most impressed with the quality of these specimens and ceased to call me "Elf" or "wench" or, his favorite, "idiotic leech".
Derkeethus checked in on me from time to time, but otherwise spent his time exploring the city. He became especially fixated on the docks and the Argonians there. "They're slaves down there," he said one evening as we sat in the backroom, eating. "But nothing I say seems to wake them up from this existence. They don't want to leave!"
"Not everyone likes freedom as much as you do, Derk."
"They're cowards! I can't believe my own kind has been reduced to this level of servility," he shouted, his voice distorting with emotion into a rough hiss.
"Quiet down back there!" shouted Nurelion.
"I will make them see. Even if I have to drag them out into the wide world by force."
Attempting to distract him from getting caught up in his tirade again, I showed him the journal with the language from the stone wall. Over the days, I had gleaned another word from its strange markings. "What do you think this word means? 'Vulon'? I can't place any understanding of it."
"Vulon..." he said, quietly, thinking. "Vulon." As he said the word a second time, the air rippled around the sound with a soft tinge of darkness. He didn't seem to notice this, and instead only shook his head in confusion. "I don't know. It's a strange word. Makes me feel uncomfortable like the day you went to look at that mammoth graveyard."
"Hmm..." I wondered what that ripple meant, but remembered I had taken my potion with my meal--the food did nothing to cover up the taste--and felt tired after drinking the foul liquid.
Eventually, I was allowed to leave the shop and walk around the city for a while--only if it was to run an errand for the arrogant old mer, of course. I wore a hood to hide my pointed ears while I was out and about, not wanting to run into any undue trouble with the locals. Unfortunately, that was not always enough to go about my time in peace.
The women in particular, stared intently at me, sometimes peering over my shoulder to see what I was doing. I later learned that I was suspected to be Nurelion's new bride. When I told the Altmer of this new rumor, he laughed derisively until he entered a severe coughing fit.
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