By mid Frostfall, I was able to walk for long periods of time. My ankle still twinged when I attempted to do anything strenuous, but I could walk and that was enough. I knew our time in Windhelm was coming to a close, though I still had no leads on the White Phial. Nurelion had mentioned it in passing, but whenever I pressed him about the issue he would scowl and threaten to throw me out on the street if I didn't get back to work. He knew where it was. He knew that I suspected he knew.
One afternoon, as I walked through the streets of Windhelm, I belatedly realized I was bidding the place goodbye. Not that there was much of a goodbye to be given in as cheerless of a city as this.
The air was getting bitterly cold with the approach of winter, and my footsteps rebounded off the stone walls. I stepped carefully, avoiding the patches of ice that almost seemed to be breeding on the smooth, stone walks. I passed a guard who looked familiar.
"Wait, I know you..." she said, pausing in her stride. I pulled my oilskin hood even lower, and, feigning ignorance, mumbled something in thick Bosmeri. Quietly, I heard her scoff, "Nevermind."
Ever since I had entered Windhelm, the native population had been overly harsh to my presence. The Nords failed to recognize the difference between Bosmer and Altmer, even between Altmer and Thalmor. To them, all mer were secretly in league with the Thalmor. That our very existence was the reason for this war and bloodshed, as it always had been. I wanted to tell them that there was no beginning to a circle, but I didn't think they would understand what I meant.
Even entering the Gray Quarter yielded me no support. Some of the Dunmer had begun to absorb a species of self-loathing from the Nords, such that they, too, distrusted all mer other than their own kind. Some even distrusted other Dunmer.
As I walked down the steps through the tiered hovels, I felt the gaze of the residents all around me. The darkened window slits glared emptily, watching me progress, alone, though their slum. Red suns wavered in the biting breeze, flags flapping like trapped birds. I saw no one throughout that section of the city, and if I didn't know any better, I'd have said the whole lot were a bunch of vampires. I was even tempted to peer inside one of the windows and see if anyone was sleeping still as death.
The afternoon waned and evening came as I headed back towards The White Phial, my leg was starting to throb a little due to the cold and walking on it for too long.
Darkness crept into the streets and after a time, I entered the affluent half of the city. Large, blazing torches warmed the air as I passed by the yards of the domiciles. Eventually, I came to a short stair leading towards wall decorated with candles. In the alley, a gust of icy air had me clutching my arms and trying to keep warm.
I shivered as I descended. A few nobles meandered in the streets after their warm meals and mead from the tavern. They passed me by without a word.
Midway down the stairs, I stepped onto a patch of ice the same color as the stone and my feet shot out from under me. I tumbled down the rest of the stairs, coming to rest on my back with a sharp slam. The ground was a wet slurry that soaked into my clothes and my hair. I stared at the sky for a moment, looking at the stars.
Dimly, I saw two Nords who passed me moments ago standing at the top of the stairs, just staring at my form before shaking their heads and heading to their homes. My head ached from where I had hit it on the ground.
Slowly, I got up using the nearby wall as a support. Looking up, I saw the area was studded with candles; each flickering against the crystalline stone, flames reflecting back tiny duplicates. I stared at the dancing lights, transfixed by their motion. In a distant part of my mind, I felt a memory trying to surface. It came fitfully and in flashes.
I'm very small, walking through an aisle of trees lined with torches in the dark. -- Inside a group of trees, men and women swaying and singing and moaning. Their eyes closed. -- Candles flickering in widening pools of wax. My parents dancing together. Everyone dancing together. -- The light getting brighter. A man, bound and blindfolded, is led to an altar. -- The light goes out. -- Everyone moving, shifting. A single voice singing. I play with a doll, and I sing, too.
I don't remember who the man was or what he did, but the impression is a negative one. Shivering, I headed back to The White Phial, wondering what it was my parents were doing at that temple. Did we go there often? Something told me, yes, but no. Was this why we left Valenwood when I was so small? When I cried as the trees disappeared around the bend and the hot grasses of Elsweyr rolled under the wheels of our wagon as we headed for the Cyrodiil border.
"What happened to you?" asked Derkeethus when I came in. He sat over at the small table in the corner of the shop and was examining a semi-polished gem in the candlelight.
"I slipped on some ice coming back," I replied. Derk looked at me quizzically, knowing the trouble we'd had during our stay. "No one pushed me this time, I promise." But I don't think he believed me.
Instead, he invited me to sit with him and have a look at the various items he'd "acquired" this evening from a few passing nobles. "They won't miss them," he said defensively when I inquired about their origin. "Now, had I...found...a writ of ownership..." He grinned, and I could see him sitting in front of their fire, feet propped on a low table, languidly telling them to get out of their own house or he would call the guard.
I went to sleep with that image burned into my mind and I couldn't help but smile at the justice in it.
In the morning, Quintus awakened me with a shake and bade me to prepare for to leave.
"Nurelion has something he wants to tell you. It's urgent. See him as soon as you've put your armor back on," he whispered. He then went to wake Derkeethus, who was sprawled across a stray hay bale and a few crates.
Methodically, I took my armor out of the chest I stored it in and oiled each piece. The relief and lightening in my heart was overwhelming as I tied the laces of my jerkin together. Finally, we would be leaving this stale city with its cold inhabitants.
When Derkeethus and I were ready to depart at need, Quintus was standing at the counter looking nervous. "Are you sure about this, master? How do we know they're not in league with those Imperials?" I heard him whisper before turning to me looking somewhat startled.
"Stop your hesitating and be decisive for once!" Nurelion growled. "I'm certain these are the right people for the job."
"And what job would this be?" I asked, as casually as possible.
"Don't give me that drivel. I know you better than that. You know exactly what I want you to do and that's exactly why you came here. Neverminding your injury." The weakening Altmer looked me piercingly in the eye.
"Where do you think the Phial is then?" I sighed, resigned.
"The White Phial? We're going to look for it?" exclaimed Derk, looking a bit surprised. Which in itself was not so surprising given his tendency to spend as much time as possible at the docks during our stay.
Nurelion gave Derk a measured look before continuing, "There's a cave to the west of here, about half a day's ride out. You'll pass a mill before you reach it."
Having done his part, he left Quintus to wrap up our preparations for our departure. Among other things and small supplies, the young man handed Derkeethus a leather bag heavily padded with tundra cotton. "I've seen how delicately you handle the valuables you've lifted. The Phial must be stored in this bag. From what Nurelion has told me, it is very fragile and would probably not survive the rigors of travel. And possible battle..."
"That seems to follow us wherever we go," the Argonian replied.
Quintus, however, motioned us to lean close to him and whispered, "My master wouldn't want me to tell you this, but a group of Imperial soldiers have been sniffing around this place in the last few months. Just the other evening a legate came by while you were both out. He demanded to know the location of the Phial, and has threatened both my master's life and mine on numerous occasions. They're still out there, I'm sure of it."
"Do you think they know Nurelion has found someone to find the Phial for him?" I asked, my brow furrowing as I thought of Imperial soldiers on a war path for something to help their "cause".
"I'm certain. Please, be careful. If not for your own sake but for my master's."
"Careful? We're always careful! Broken ankle, Imperials spying on us, walking into deadly caves. No one could be more careful!" laughed Derkeethus.
"Nevertheless..."
"We'll be fine," I reassured.
Finally, we left the city with our goods prepared and bags sitting at our feet. With a whistle, I called for Nael and Eater-of-Burrs. Both came thundering down from the hills with Jorin in tow, looking for all the world as if they had turned feral. We saddled them and loaded our goods onto their backs. Burrs bucked and jumped when Derkeethus first mounted him, but a sharp nip from Nael put him to rights. Sometimes he needed to be reminded of his duty, and Nael, ever the champion of such, was more than willing to do the reminding.
The day began cold and cloudy as we left the equally gloomy city of Windhelm. About us the country was already covered in a thin layer of snow that crunched under the horses' hooves. Crossing the White River, we were watched by a shrine to Talos sitting upon the hill. He glared at our passage with a disapproving scowl, but then, he always looked formidable and disgruntled about something. Given his tendency for wanton destruction, I suppose something must always be disagreeable to him.
It was no wonder the Nords of Windhelm had a bone to pick with everyone. If I had this thing looking at me all day and expecting me to honor it, I'd have a bone to pick with everyone, too.
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