As soon as I was able, I escaped to the kitchens once more, feeling the chill of the Justicar's glare on my back as I left. At the very least, I would avoid his presence for as long as I could.
Once in the sweltering heat of the kitchen, I skirted behind Odar, who stood shouting angrily at a servant. The servant in question scrubbed ferociously at a charred pot covered in some kind of burned cheese. Her face twisted as a chunk sloughed off to plop nastily into a water-filled bucket. Making my way down a side hall, I held my breath as I passed the bucket, which smelled horribly of old cat sick. I snuck into what must have been the servant's quarters and discarded the chef's uniform, tucking it into one of the mattresses.
A rumpled tunic and breeches covered my form in a soft green. With my satchel draped over my side, I looked no different than a travelling mage. However, magic had never truly been my forté and I still felt helpless without some kind of weapon. So, not seeing anything else of use, I snatched a fork from one of the kitchen tables on the way back out.
Late afternoon sun blazed in the courtyard, and stepping out of the grand archway, I breathed deeply. The tangy sea air blew about me. Leaves danced in the trees, sending a few drifting down the street. Derkeethus sent a pang of envy as the cool wind bit through my clothes. Sounds of an active town reached me, and for the moment, I felt free.
My joy at the fresh air was quickly shadowed when I sensed someone behind me. Someone's following me. The thought triggered the image of the goat handing through iron bars, slit throat smiling gruesomely. Dripping blood dissolved into the thrumming of water against the rocks, which shifted into soft footfalls--
No one there.
If it was a soldier, they wouldn't be hiding. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I looked about me carefully. Wary, I walked slowly down the road, keeping my eyes on the guard that was approaching.
Were the Imperials still looking for me? I wondered if the armored watchman would be a bastion of safety or doom upon my mission. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, I decided to avoid his attention. To my right was a small courtyard where I heard a fountain burbling, a quick glance showed the overgrown garden to be empty. I made for it.
As I passed under the archway, I turned back to check behind me once more. Suddenly, there was a soft hiss of air in my ear and a soft, leathery, furred hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my cry of surprise. The point of a blade dug into my back.
"Eef blind Bosmair struggles, thees one weell kabob eets keedneys," a high, rolling voice said in a strange accent. The hand over my mouth tightened and dragged me back into the courtyard proper.
A Dibella fountain splashed water into a small basin, while pine saplings crowded the corners.
"Thees one looks forward to seelly Bosmair and Argoneean joineeng Fadomai," the Khajiit purred, pressing the blade into my back hard enough to pierce the skin. A bead of blood formed there and rolled down my spine in a distracting tickle. Slowly, she brought the sword up to my neck, and as fear coursed through my body, I drew the fork. She nearly dropped her weapon in laughter.
"Ji'Y'ffer theenks seelvairware can harm S'Jihatt?" The edge bit into my skin, and I swallowed the lump building in my throat. Not knowing what else to do, I jabbed the fork wrong-handed backwards. I missed, and S'Jihatt only laughed all the more. As she reached over and began to draw the blade across my throat, I jabbed again and met flesh.
The Khajiit screamed a wildcat's yowl, covering her face with her hands, forgetting her weapon and mark. I slipped out of her grasp and stood with my makeshift weapon ready. When her face was revealed once more, two puncture wounds glared red from her left cheek where blood oozed freely down her face. Hissing like a basilisk, she spun, striking after me viciously.
With a growl, she said something in a lilting language that rolled out of her throat in a rumble. I dodged her swings, feeling terrified and unprotected. I had no gauntlets to deflect her blows. No blade with which to parry. No jerkin to protect my stomach, which was horribly exposed in the robes as the tip of her blade brushed by, threatening to disembowel me in one swipe. My only means of defending myself was a silver fork, and I clung to this in desperation.
Quite suddenly, I found myself backed into a corner, and the ivory grin of S'Jihatt suggested the fight was over. She brought down her blade and I raised my fork in a last ditch effort to stop the inevitable. My arm shook violently, and to my surprise, the tines of the fork trapped her blade. Seizing this moment, I twisted the fork, locked the golden edge, and tried to disarm her with it. However, my strength was no match for hers and she ripped the fork from my hands with a sharp yank. It clattered to the ground a few feet away. I held my hands out pathetically.
Then, unbidden, magicka surged though my hand and I cast a spell right into the Khajiit's face. From my limited experience, I felt it a kin to the call for the wolf spirit I often used, though this was stronger and the power vibrated through my bones as it erupted. An ethereal sabre cat materialized from this air and lashed out at the assassin.
She recoiled, holding her sword to block its blows, but this only drove her backwards until she was standing in the fountain. Cold water spattered over her head as the sabre cat lunged at her fearlessly. While she was preoccupied with the beast, I slipped away and snatched up my fork, using it to poke and prod at her sides in an effort to cause a distraction. At first, S'Jihatt was able to ignore it, but eventually she turned to knock my weapon away once more.
It proved to be her undoing. The conjured creature's paws were the size of dinner plates, and one of these connected with the back of her head. A sickening crunch followed as her skull met the stone of the fountain and her body slid down into the small pool. For a moment, the sabre cat stared at the body before looking away through the arch and dissolving. Looking up, I saw the guard finally passing the arch, and I stood as still as I dared. I had to move the body before anyone found me and started asking more questions.
Sighing, I slowly dragged the Khajiit's surprisingly heavy body in the midst of several saplings and let it lay there in the foliage. In closing her eyes, I regretted killing her. On the whole, I rather liked and admired the Khajiit as a people. My family's village was relatively close to Elsweyr's borders and in spite of my people's violent history with the cat-people, we were left to ourselves and enjoyed a little trade with a village on the other side of the border. Still, she had tried to kill Derkeethus and me, and even as I thought this, I felt Derk's relief at the image of the fallen assassin.
Moving back over to the fountain, I cleaned the blood off of myself and the stone statue as best as I could manage. The fork I threw over the city walls where I heard it clang down the rocks towards the sea below. A frown etching its way onto my face, I wondered when I would be able to travel unhindered, unobserved, and unbound.
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