From Elsweyr With Love



Chapter 1 of 12

La’Dasha arrived at Number 1's office as quickly as she could. She had proven herself worthy of the top assignment as a chief operations officer within the Aldmeri Dominion over the years with exemplary service, yet as a khajiit she knew she would always be under the severest of scrutiny by the Altmer she worked for. Number 1 sat with his back to the door when she came in. He did not deign to turn around, but simply indicated a seat beside another High Elf at his desk.

“Welcome La’Dasha,” said Number 5 beside her. She knew his name was Tormandil, but even that was information she should not possess. She sat in the seat indicated.

“This one was notified of an urgency,” she replied. “This one is ready.”

“We have an unusual assignment for you today, La’Dasha. Does the name Ra’Jirra ring any bells?”

“Agent for Elsweyr. Licensed to kill. One of their best as this one recalls.”

“Yes, indeed,” Number 5 smiled in that too-slick way. The man always reminded her of a reptile, though he was no argonian. Sometimes she expected his forked tongue to peek out from between his lips.

“She has been causing us… difficulty of late. We would like you to eliminate that difficulty.”

“She will be dead within…” La’Dasha began, but suddenly Number 1 swiveled around and La’Dasha instantly silenced herself.

“Death is not enough,” said the porcine elf, quietly at first but growing redder with every word. “No, we would not trouble you with a simple assassination, cat. She must be humiliated. She must be humbled. She must fall to her knees and beg for death! Only then will you be allowed to kill her! Do you UNDERSTAND?!?”

The vehemence of Number 1’s outburst took the khajit aback. This was not usual. Not usual at all. The Altmer prided themselves on their calm and impassive demeanor. Even Tormandil looked shocked.

“This one understands, sir,” she replied quietly. Already her mind was reeling with various scenarios.

“La’Dasha, perhaps you begin to understand,” Tormandil said calmly. “We know you are a loyal and trustworthy agent. You have a 95% success rate, the highest of all our operational chiefs. Yet your… personal predilections are somewhat distasteful, if I must say.”

The khajiit grinned a toothy grin. She wasn’t completely sure which ‘predilection’ he was referring to, nor even which he knew about, but when speaking with a high officer of the Aldmeri Dominion, it was always best to assume they know everything. They usually do.

“Still, quality service forgives much. And your dalliances have never caused us any undue issues.”

“This one’s dalliances do not talk afterwards.”

Number 1 snuffled and turned back around, looking at something on the floor. La’Dasha knew of the trap door there. The light from below indicated there was some entertainment currently amusing him. She looked back to Number 5.

“No,” Number 5 agreed. “They do not. But I do implore you to use your best efforts on this operation. It is of utmost importance that we succeed. To that end we have some… ideas. Please, if you would, let us leave Number 1 in peace and I will fill you in on the details.”

“Oh gods,” La’Dasha thought as she left the office and continued down the hall towards Number 5’s personal quarters.

She liked Number 5 well enough, but his own penchant for mixing business with pleasure left her cold. Worse yet, when the upper management had ‘ideas’, they were usually overly complex and under-imagined. Still, she had always managed to streamline things to get the job done. As for Number 5’s fondness for khajiits, she didn’t mind that so much, but she could never finish the act as she most desired. Tormandil probably never suspected just how close to death he was after he’d lain with her. Or maybe he did. There were those who got off on proximity to danger. She’d certainly had enough of those. But she’d never gotten to taste Altmer flesh. Maybe someday. Hope springs eternal, someone once said.

**********************************

Ra’Jirra was late, but not for lack of trying. Technological progress had been amazingly fast since the near-elimination of magic, but along with it came incumbent problems that no one had anticipated. With all their talk of betterment of all, no one had yet come up with a solution to the problem of traffic in the city. And Torval was growing rapidly. While Ra’Jirra was just a visitor here, still she found that every trip to the headquarters of the HMSS was a new adventure in just how badly the city growth was being managed.

“You’re late,” the secretary said. “Go on in. They’re waiting for you.”

The leonine head turned to look at her when she entered. “Ah, Ra’Jirra. Glad to see you could make it. We were beginning to worry you wouldn’t make it. Sit down, we have a lot to talk about and you haven’t much time.”

Ra’Jirra crossed to where Queue and Em sat at a small conference table.

“I haven’t?”

While Ta’agra did forbid the use of the first-person pronoun, she was happy to be back in Elsweyr where she didn’t have to think about the quirk it caused in the Common tongue. His Mane’s Secret Service did employ non-khajiit agents of course, but here in the capital of Elsweyr the de-facto language was the khajiit’s own, and she no longer had to structure her tongue around the foreign words, so she didn’t even have think about the pronoun issue. It was simply how you spoke in Ta’agra.

“No. There’s urgent business afoot. You know, of course, of the impending crisis between the Imperials and Hammerfell.”

“Of course,” Ra’Jirra frowned. “Don’t you remember my last assignment? I was in the thick of it!”

“Oh, yes. That’s right. I seem to recall reading something about that. Anyway, the Imperials have asked for our help. It seems a Hammerfell cypher wants to defect. But they can’t be caught stealing her away from Hammerfell during this crisis directly. And there’s another reason…”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“She’s asked for you by name, Ra’Jirra. It seems she’s become somewhat enamored of you, given your recent publicity.”

Ra’Jirra frowned at that. She’d never been much for disguises and going incognito - in fact, she had some small pride, if not outright ego, in announcing her name far and wide. But the story of her last exploit had made it into certainly publications widely read by those into politics and intrigue. And they hadn’t redacted her name.

“I see,” she said simply. “Does she check out?”

“She does. She’s a mid-level cryptologist in Hammerfell’s security department. But Ra’Jirra, it’s more than just getting a cryptologist. She says she can get us their prime encryption device. Ra’Jirra, that would take months for their agents to stop using. If we can get that, every message sent from Hammerfell would be decryptable.”

“And we’d just hand it off to the Imperials,” Ra’Jirra growled.

“Oh, not so!” said Queue, the head technologist of HMSS. “With the device in our hands, we could read the messages, but we would only transfer to the Imperials those that we chose to!”

“Besides, Raj, the Imperials are our friends,” Em said gruffly.

“This week,” Ra’Jirra countered.

The head of the HMSS had to nod at that.

“Anyway, you’re to head off to Rihad as soon as possible. We have an agent there that can fill you in on the details…” Em said, but Queue interrupted him.

“But first,” he said, obviously relishing the moment. “We’ve got a couple interesting devices that you may find helpful on your mission!”

“Oh joy,” Ra’Jirra said, eyeballing him dubiously. “Last time you almost got me stabbed with my own shoe!”

“Pfft,” Queue hissed. Quite literally. Queue was an Argonian. “A small error in metal fatigue calculations. We’ve perfected that now! But look at this…”

“Looks like a briefcase,” she said, opening and closing the lid. Nothing obvious. No hidden compartments that she could make out.

“Ah, no… the secret is in the lock. It’s a combination lock. Here, look… When closed and locked, the case is nearly unbreakable. Only extreme shearing force could break it open. For all practical purposes, it’s invulnerable. But set these symbols to Snake, Snake, Cat and…”

The latch popped open.

“Well, that’s great. But if someone steals the thing, they can force it open eventually. I don’t see the…”

“Oh, no! That’s not the secret! Hammerfell’s been using locks like this for years. They’re ahead of us in technology, you know. But look at this! Set the combination instead to… Cat, Snake, Snake and.”

Queue turned the last thumbwheel and something snapped.

“Dammit!” he cried, snatching his hand back from the case.

“What?” Ra’Jirra asked, looking closely at the combination lock.

“Poison dart. More of a pin actually. Instant death,” Queue said, nursing his thumb.

“QUEUE?” both Em and Ra’Jirra exclaimed.

“Should I call for a medic?!” Em asked the Argonian.

“No, no… doesn’t work on Argonians. Well. Almost doesn’t. My thumb’s going to be swollen for a week. Dammit! Here, I’ll reset it.:”

“And what’s this gadget?” Ra’Jirra said, turning to the small metallic rectangle.

“Oh, that! Be careful, Ra’Jirra. That’s deadly! The boys in the lab call it the Projectilized Ultimate Suppression System. Unlike the briefcase lock, it’s our own design from scratch!”

“Wait… What do you call it for short?”

“The boys have an unusual sense of humor. We just call it a ‘gun’”

“A gun. Better. How does it work?”

Queue proceeded to tell Ra’Jirra the intricacies of the device, explained about the exploding gas contained within it when triggered by a small hammer, and demonstrated the devastating effect on a side of beef they’d set up on the other side of the room.

The hole it left was impressive.

“Nice!” Ra’Jirra said, taking the ‘gun’. And good to see you’re testing your devices on proper materials too.”

“What do you mean?” Queue asked.

“The beef!”

“Oh, no. That’s just my lunch.”

Chapter 2 of 12

“You understand the mission then?” La’Dasha said to the grate under her feet as she sat on the bench.

“I do,” came the terse reply. La’Dasha had never met the man she knew as Faelian, though she had made use of his services for years. So far he had been undeniably successful. However, her requests had typically been much simpler than this one. She sincerely wished she could have just ordered a straightforward assassination, but that wasn’t the plan. Her operative would need to have a good grasp on the complexities. But she trusted no one more than Faelian.

However, that wasn’t saying much. She wasn’t even sure what race he was, though he was clearly not a khajiit or argonian. She only knew he got the job done where others had failed her. And this was going to be an expensive operation, though expenses didn’t bother the Dominion. A good thing too. The long range weapon she had left in the drop off location was priceless.

“Where?” came the hoarse voice from below her.

“Crypt. Name of Shelley. Key is in the urn on the left of the door. And Faelian…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to be following this one closely. It’s important.”

“Got it. When do you expect her in the city?”

“Two days from now.”

“I’ll contact you when it’s over.”

“No need. I’ll know when it’s over.”

There were no footfalls, but she sensed the man had gone anyway. It wasn’t like her to worry, but she was worried now. This was way too complex, and too many people were involved. Important people. If she failed this, she would die. It was as simple as that. Number 5 didn’t have to make the threat. She’d carried out similar orders on other high ranking members herself.

She needed a drink. She crossed the road to a bar. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light within and she sat at the bar and ordered her usual. It came to her - clear, cold and strong. She downed it with a single gulp and ordered another.

“This seat taken?” came a voice beside her. She looked to see a man. Big man.

She thought about it for a moment, then decided she needed the distraction. “There is now,” she replied noncommittally.

“You new in town? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Pretty new. Just came in yesterday. Business.”

“Ah,” he said, and she wondered how long he was going to take to get to the point. But it was all part of the game. She had to wait.

“Say, wanna guide? I know all the hot spots in town. This place, it’s alright, but it’s dead.”

“You like cats?” she asked, touching his thigh. She felt the muscles flex underneath her claws.

“I like everybody,” he said.

“Do you?” She looked him up and down. Slowly. “How much do you weigh, stud?”

“Oh! Like what you see? Couple hundred.”

“Mmm. And how big are you?”

“Big enough for a cat.”

“Are you? Well, this one does like to sample the local meat when in town. Want to skip the hot spots and make our own?”

This was the turning point. A lot of men she met would balk at this point. She didn’t mind. It was all part of the game. Some would be turned off by her boldness, and those were the ones that got away. “Go home to your wife,” she would tell them in her mind. “Go kiss your kids, stud. Be smart.”

“Sure, pussy. Where are you staying.”

Externally she smiled and told him her hotel and room number. Internally she sighed. The mean intelligence of the male population of Tamriel would slightly increase tonight. There was that. She was a force for evolution.

“Give me 20 minutes,” she said, standing up and downing her second drink. “The door will be open, stud.”

She saw the lecherousness in his eyes when she turned back at the door, watching her tail make motions in the air. “20 minutes.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, smiling a smile that told her all she needed to know. He would be.

**********************************************

Ra’Jirra stepped down from the wagon behind a family of fellow khajiits into the full majesty of Rihad. It stank. The odor of thousands of different people, all crammed together in such a small space and under such high heat, would yield nothing else. Along with that wafted the aroma of a thousand different street vendors, all selling their possibly-still-edible wares. It combined to give a stench that reached to the sky.

She’d been here before. She had hoped to not be again.

Her contact was named Serosh, a rather bland looking Redguard she had met once before briefly, but she had done her research on him during her trip to Rihad using the folio Em had given her before she left. Not a top agent, but reliable and committed. However, he was a family man, and that was dangerous.

He hailed them a taxi, a premium affair. The Orsimer pedalling it was pleasantly quiet and didn’t reek too badly.

“Where am I staying?”

“The Pendant. Best lodgings in town. They’ve a premier casino and bar if you’re interested. I’ve got you the penthouse suite.”

“Nice! You know my tastes,” she smiled as he offered her a cocktail. She spat out the feathers though. She preferred them plucked first.

“Indeed. But it’s not just for your vanity, Raj. They’re the only hotel that excels in privacy. We’ll talk there.”

Ra’Jirra saluted him and began gnawing on the cocktail as she watched the riffraff of Rihad go by outside. The driver was impressive in his speed and mobility. She lay her head back and enjoyed the meager breeze and occasional respite from the atmosphere of the place. At moments she might almost think…

Suddenly an explosion rocked the small cart. She spun around to look out of the small window behind her. Smoke was rising from a storefront behind them, but the Orsimer was dutifully speeding past. She saw blood and heard screaming.

“What’s that all about?”

“Local disturbance. The usual thing. Massive poor population, small rich population and practically no middle class. The place is ripe for revolution, but the government keeps a pretty firm hand.”

“So that was a revolutionary bomb?”

Serosh shrugged. “Or counterrevolutionary. Who knows? Doesn’t make much difference really, does it?”

“Not to those people bleeding on the street.”

They pulled past the gates leading to The Pendant. Armed guards were in evidence. Lots of them. She watched as the gates clanked into place firmly behind her.

“Are they locked out, or am I locked in?” she asked Sarosh as he took her hand to help her out of the taxi.

He handed the driver something gold and the driver bit it before pocketing it. “Yes,” he replied with a smile, and two large Redguards came to see to her luggage while she strolled into the hotel. The doors opened at her approach, and she wondered for a moment if there might be magic involved, until she saw the ropes which obviously led to a couple of menial laborers stationed to give them a pull at the proper time.

Inside the air temperature dropped at least 20 degrees.

“Whoa! What’s this?” she asked the her friend.

“They call it Air Ice. They have a big tub of ice on each floor with a fan that blows it into the rooms. Nice, eh?”

“I’ll say! Almost makes me think I could live here!”

“Better watch that, cat. Some of us do, you know.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Let’s get you to your room,” he said.

They walked into a small box surrounded by a gated door which he closed. He turned a knob to indicate her floor number, and the box began to rise smoothly. She never did see the laborers that accomplished that little miracle, but she had no doubt they were there.

Serosh handed her the key and she opened the door. The room was huge and immaculate. She even let out a squeal when she saw the bath. It was enormous and open, with a commanding view through thick glass doors that led to a balcony beyond.

“Serosh, you’re not into cats are you?”

“Sorry Raj, no. Not me. Happily married man.”

“Good! You stay there, I’m taking a damned bath!”

“You do that. Sweaty fur isn’t exactly the most delightful perfume, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t I know it!”

She opened a spigot and water began to flow. She had no idea how that worked, but she was sure somebody’s muscles were involved. The water temperature was perfect.

“I’ve left a dossier on the table,” she heard from the next room as she got undressed. “Burn it when you’re done.”

Ra’Jirra lowered herself slowly into the warm water and let the tub fill slowly over her as bit-by-bit parts of her were submerged. She nearly cried with pleasure. “Aaaaaahh!”

“Long trip?” came the voice from the other room.

“Too long. I think I just want to stay in here all night. So, how long are you good for tonight? When do you need to go home?”

“I’m good as long as you’d like. I sent my family away. I don’t like them to be around during an operation.”

“Smart thinking.”

Chapter 3 of 12

Ra’Jirra strolled out of the bath wearing only a towel, her hair wrapped up in another atop her head. Then she sat at the small table.

“Romanov? What kind of a name is that?” she asked, scanning the dossier.

“It’s a malapropism. Her real name is Ko’Manir. Seems someone misheard her at some point and the new name stuck. She’s been here in Hammerfell for years.”

Ra’Jirra listened halfheartedly, her focus was on the papers before her. She finished and turned them over, then back again. “There’s nothing here about why, Sarosh. Why does a khajiit cypher who has risen through the ranks of the Hammerfell security force suddenly want to defect?”

“No idea,” said the Redguard, sitting up. “I guess you’ll have to ask her.”

Ra’Jirra shook her head, causing the towel to fall to the floor. She left it there. “No. She’s got to prove herself before she meets me. Can you get a message to her? I want to get that encryption machine first, and I want to test it. This seems a little too easy.”

“We’ve got a daily drop. She checks it every morning on her way to work. I’ll tell her.”

“Do that. Tell her. I want her to understand who is in charge of this operation. She may be legit, but I don’t trust anyone without knowing their motivation.”

She handed the dossier to Sarosh and he lit on fire before dropping it into a metal wastebasket. They waited for it to finish burning before emptying it into a bag, which Sarosh pocketed. Ra’Jirra felt slightly better. Her compatriot was a professional despite his nondescript build.

“Dinner?” Serosh asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Ra’Jirra smiled, and opened her luggage. “Anywhere good here in the hotel?”

“Afraid not. We’ve got to brave the wilds of Rihad again. But I know a good place not too far. But don’t dress swanky. It’s a joint. A nice joint, but nothing fancy.”

Ra’Jirra frowned, but put her clothes away into the closet until she got to the khaki number that seemed most appropriate, along with a set of matching underwear. The towel fell to her feet and she began to dress.

Suddenly she stopped, realizing she wasn’t alone. “You got a problem, soldier?” she asked without turning around.

“Me? No problem at all. You’re the boss.”

“Good. Sorry Sarosh. I’m not trying to seduce you. I promise. Military training. You do what you have to do when you have to do it, you know?”

“Like I said, no problem at all. I’ve gone through it to. Case closed.”

She pulled her bra on and began buttoning her shirt. A few minutes and a couple of spritzes of perfume later, and they were out of the door. She closed it carefully, inserting a small scrap of paper in the jam.

The ride to the restaurant was uneventful, though the driver was a Redguard this time and was riper than the Orsimer had been. They got out and walked into the open-air cafe, sitting at a table surrounded by other patrons. There would be no loose lips here.

At Sarosh’s suggestion, she ordered a chicken platter over a bed of rice that was covered in a green sauce she recognized as unique to Hammerfell, which came quickly to the table.

“Very good!” she smiled at the first bite. Though in other circumstances she would have wolfed it down, she took care now to cut the meat into delicate pieces, apparently savoring the flavor. What she was really doing was scanning the crowd for anyone unusually interested in them. In five minutes she’d spotted all three.

“So,” she continued. “Come here often?”

“I’ll say! I bring my family here every other week, when I can afford it. It’s a little pricey for me, though, but anything for an emissary from Elsweyr!”

“One at the end of the bar and two at the table in the back,” she said under her breath. “Recognize them?”

“It’s not everyday I get a buyer for my wares from so far away,” Sarosh replied in a normal tone, adding quietly. “Maybe. The guy at the end of the bar looks familiar. I think he lives in my apartment complex. But I could be wrong.”

Ra’Jirra thought about that as they continued their dinner.

“How about a little stroll to work off this food?” she suggested when they were done.

“Should be fine. This is a decent neighborhood.”

“One minute, let me freshen up a bit. I’ll be right back,” she said and rose to go to the ladies’ room.

She watched the guy at the bar from the corner of her eye. She didn’t even glance at the two at the table. His eyes connected with hers for only a second, then he looked away. Amateur.

She came back to find the bill paid and they walked out through the low gate to the street beyond. The night was relatively cool and the smells had dissipated. Or she’d gotten used to them already.

“You want to confront them?” Sarosh asked quietly as they walked.

“What a gorgeous night,” Ra’Jirra said in answer, whispering “Let’s see how serious they are. Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, soldier,” she repeated, the last word quietly but distinctly.

He did so, and she hugged him strongly back, glancing momentarily over his back. The one in front stopped. The two behind kept walking towards them, but they were far back.

She took Sarosh’s hand and led him farther down the street, ducking into a darkened alley as if to continue their embrace in earnest.

“Quick,” she said once they were out of sight. “Over here.”

She took Sarosh by the hand and pulled him to the end of the alley. It ended in a stark stone wall. She could climb it, if she had to. He could not. She embraced him and made as if she were kissing his neck.

“What do you see?” she whispered.

“First one walked past. Looked in for a moment.”

“Keep watching,” she said, opening the button on a leg pocket. She felt the cold steel within. Just in case.

“The other two stopped…” Sarosh said, then a moment later. “They’re coming in.”

“Damn,” Ra’Jirra said, and released him. “Oh! There’s somebody coming!” she continued in a husky tone of voice.

The two men continued walking towards them. They were big, and they didn’t look friendly.

“Excuse us,” Sarosh said as they approached. “We’ll be going.”

“Fucking a cat?” said one of them, and he produced a wicked looking iron.

“Oh shit,” Ra’Jirra said sincerely. They certainly weren’t ruffians, but they were going to pretend to be. They could well plan to kill them both. She suddenly wondered if Sarosh had been keeping up with his self defense exercises. She didn’t have time to ask.

She dropped to her feet and leapt at the nearer, but he blocked with an arm and grabbed her strongly. She wished she hadn’t worn the boots - she couldn’t use her claws. She brought her knee up into his crotch, but she felt the hard protection there. This man was no amateur.

He brought the iron down hard, but she lunged into him just in time to miss the brunt of the blow which glanced off the back of her head. She bit at his chest and tasted blood.

The man rammed her into the wall, knocking her head back hard against it and she dropped momentarily to the ground. She looked up at his face. It was emotionless. All business. He was damn good. She kicked as hard as she could as he raised the iron for another blow. Her kick had knocked him back only a little and he remained on his feet. She thought for a moment about the gun, but she had no time to draw it. Instead she rolled to the side, hoping he would be coming at her with too much momentum, but he swung around instantly. Goddammit.

Then a sound like thunder roared in the street beyond and a rose bloomed in her assailant’s chest. She’d heard a similar sound before. Recently. The man fell instantly to the ground. Finally she had a moment to see what else was happening. The third man stood at the alley entrance, apparently guarding it. The second stopped attacking Sarosh, who had managed to hold his own. But now the second turned to the body in front of her. They could probably rush him now, but she still didn’t know what had happened.

“You’ll pay for this,” he spat, then ran out of the alley.

“What was that?” Sarosh managed between gasps.

She pulled the gun from her pocket. Had it misfired? She sniffed it. Nothing.

“No idea,” she said. “They weren’t going to kill us. They’d have brought edged weapons. But they were good. Not hoodlums. They were here to deliver a message, but damned if I know what it was.”

She bent to search the dead man’s clothes. Nothing, but the clothing itself was a clue.

“Well we’ve got to get out of here, Raj. We’ve got to get off the streets. The local police are rough and they won’t ask questions first. Come with me, I know a place. Plus… I think these were police. If I’m right, they’ll be back in force. Soon.”

She let him lead her away. Once back to the street, they turned farther down the road and ducked into a seedy hotel of sorts.

“This place will be crawling with them soon,” he whispered. “Let’s hole up here for the night.”

She just nodded, trying to work out what had happened, but she had no ideas. Sarosh spoke with the greasy man at the desk and got a room key, then led her upstairs.

They walked down a hall, past a sleeping body and into a room with a bed so small Ra’Jirra wasn’t sure if it even qualified for the term. The heat was stifling. Sarosh opened the window and looked out on a small balcony. Ra’Jirra stepped beside him. On other balconies, the residents were sleeping on theirs.

Chapter 4 of 12

An hour later and Ra’Jirra had stripped to her underwear, panting on the bed like an overheated dog. Sarosh was on the balcony and dressed similarly (except for the bra) and settled in for the night. She might have been a little jealous, but he was right. Another Redguard sleeping on a hotel balcony was nothing to attract attention. A khajiit in her underwear would be.

When he’d pulled his shirt off, she was pleasantly surprised. The man had been training after all. Her estimation of him rose a notch. But now she was just miserable. “How do people live in this heat?” she asked him quietly. They were still speaking in Ta’agra but fortunately he was fluent.

“Any way they can, Raj.”

Her hair was bothering her. She pulled it up and flipped the pillow over again. At least the place was clean. She did give it some points for that.

“You want to go back to the Pendant later?” he asked her.

“No. Like you said, it might attract attention. I’ll manage.”

“In the morning let’s go back to my place. I need to write a message for Romanov and the drop off is near it. We can get cleaned up there.”

“Do you have Air Ice?”

“No. But it will be cooler in the morning. You’ll see.”

Ra’Jirra picked up the flyer beside her and began fanning herself again. She couldn’t sleep. She kept running the scenario over and over in her mind. The noise, then the man falling dead, a hole through him. Square through his chest. Everything screamed of another gun, but the only other person who was there was the amateur in the street. But surely the three were working together. And from that distance… From her own practice with her weapon, she knew it was inaccurate at range. In a pinch it might work - with luck - but things just didn’t add up right. And how would a Redguard, and amateur spy no less, have managed to get his hands on a top secret weapon designed by Elsweyr?

She thought about the position of her assailant when he’d been killed. He was turned a bit away from her, which is why the blood hadn’t hit her. And leaning down to ready another swing of the iron. But the projectile had to have entered almost exactly parallel to his body to pierce it so straight. And then she saw it in her mind’s eye. An imaginary line, from the man’s chest to his back, then extending not only outward but upward. He had been bending over to attack her when the noise had happened. The projectile must have come from up high. How high? Not across the street. That would have been too far.

The roof. The shot had to have come from the roof beside the alley. It had been, what? 2 floors? 3? But it lined up. Someone had shot him with a weapon similar to her gun from the rooftop. Another player? On her side?

“Dammit,” she said, turning the pillow over for the fifth time. “I can’t think straight in this heat!”

Sarosh was snoring lightly. The sounds outside were dim and far away. A couple talking on another balcony, maybe across the street.

“Fuck it. He’s a professional, and I’ve got my fur to cover me. Mostly. Modesty be damned.”

She took off the rest and closed her eyes, continuing to fan herself. It helped. She drifted off, imagining someone on the roof of the building with a gun. Still a long shot in more ways than one. The mysterious gunman might well have intended to shoot her instead, but she somehow didn’t think so. Romanov? From all she’d read, the girl was just a mid level cyber security expert. Not the type for field work. She dreamed of a khajiit on the roof, looking down at her. The khajiit was naked.

She woke at the first light of day. It was cooler. She put her underwear back on and checked on Sarosh. Still sleeping. She roused him and they got dressed. The streets were empty at this hour, and she hadn’t gotten enough sleep, but it was a good time to get moving. There was no sign of any patrolling guardsmen on the street, so they hailed a cab and made good time to Sarosh’s apartment.

The building was just like the man. Nondescript. Average. Not rich, not poor. He must have at least lived like one of the mythical middle class he had mentioned. Maybe there weren’t many in the city, but there were a few. No rising boxes here, they climbed the four flights of stairs and walked down towards his apartment.

He pulled out his key, then stopped.

“Wait,” he said, and looked around the floor. He found what he was looking for a few feet away. A thread, too small to notice unless you were really looking for it. It served the same purpose as her scrap of paper had. Someone had been here since he had left. He signaled to Ra’Jirra. She nodded and pulled her weapon from her pocket and held it in safety position, pointing up and standing beyond the door frame while he opened the door.

“Relan? Phelix?” he called as he opened the door, but Ra’Jirra noticed the tripwire in the gap at low level. She rushed at Sarosh and tackled him at the waist, sending them both to the floor on the other side of the door frame before the explosion hit. The wall of flame that instantly burst from the apartment singed the leather of her boot. Then, just as suddenly as had started, it was over.

She couldn’t hear a thing at first, but the ringing in her ears slowly faded. Sarosh was saying something, but he indicated his ears and shook his head. He was deaf too. They looked inside the apartment, but it was utter devastation within. She heard voices outside, her hearing returning. Sarosh recovered a metal box and they left quickly.

***********************

“Good. Very good indeed!” La’Dasha said quietly to the grate. “You’re sure she wasn’t hurt?”

“No. The weapon performed perfectly.”

“Where are they now?”

“I lost them last night, but I picked them up again at his apartment this morning. There was an explosion.”

“What?”

“Not my work. Someone booby-trapped the door.”

“Are they okay?”

“Yes. No one was home and the khajiit stopped him from entering. I must assume she sensed something.”

“Dammit, she can’t die yet!”

“Continue with the plan then?”

“Of course.”

The voice was gone. They bombed the man’s apartment? Someone must be really pissed off. And that was good. That was the point. But she mustn’t be killed this soon. She rose and hailed a taxi.

“The Pendant,” she said to the driver, and closed her eyes, remembering the previous night’s entertainment. It had been glorious. Against all odds, the man had made for an excellent lover, and he fought well for a human. But she would have to find another hotel. The mess had been too much to clean up. She imagined the look on the maid’s face when she came in this morning. What a sight that would be!

******************************

Sarosh had written two letters that morning, one encrypted that he placed in the drop, the other she didn’t ask about, but he explained anyway. “A contingency plan. The family won’t be returning.”

She took his hand as they sat on a bench near a park. “I’m sorry Sarosh. I didn’t expect anyone to recognize you.”

“No need. It’s a good thing. I had no idea my cover had been blown. Now I know and everyone is still alive. It is the best outcome. But I will have to leave Rihad.”

“Any ideas who did it? It’s doesn’t sound like the work of a Hammerfell agent. They would just have swept in and taken us both.”

“I’ve a good idea. I think it was retribution for that guy last night. Bombing is a favorite of the local secret police, and those guys looked like the type. And their clothes were classic ‘plain clothes’. Cheap but spotless. But it wouldn’t have been officially sanctioned. My guess is it was that other guy. We killed his buddy, and he knew where I lived.”

“But we didn’t kill him!” Ra’Jirra protested.

“He thinks we did. I need to find out who he is. He won’t stop when he finds out I’m still alive. He’ll be stationed at the main headquarters downtown. I’m going to stake out the place and see if I can spot him.”

Ra’Jirra shook her head. “No Sarosh. He knows you. He doesn’t know me. I’ll go.”

“He knows you too,” Sarosh protested.

“Ha. Even you’ve said we khajiit all look the same. A change of clothes and I’m a different cat.”

“The hair is pretty distinctive.”

“I’ll wear it up. You leave that to me. I got a good look at him too. I’ll recognize him. No, you lay low for a while. I’ve got to go back to my room and change.”

Sarosh nodded. “I’ll meet you tonight at dusk at your room.”

She returned to the hotel and found the scrap of paper still lodged in its place, opened the door, and spruced herself up a bit, but she did not bathe. For the role she planned, she should be unkempt. Then she pulled on some shabby clothes, tied up her hair, making sure it was mussed a bit, then caught a taxi to the police headquarters.

“No!” she said to the desk officer. “This one will remain here until they bring him in.”

“Okay ma’am, but I’m telling you there’s no report of a khajiit kid arrested last night. But if you must wait, you can have a seat over there. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

She nodded acceptance and made herself as comfortable as she could. It was getting hot again. She spent the next four hours scanning the personnel that came and went until at last a big man came in wearing civilian clothes. He waved to the desk officer who unlocked a side door and let him in. She watched the man until he was out of sight. Hadn’t even changed his clothes, and he looked pissed off.

“That’s him,” she said to the desk officer when he had gone. “That’s the man who took my boy.”

“Who? Detective Royan? Couldn’t have been. He was on a stakeout last night. Besides, he doesn’t do grunt-work like arresting shoplifters.”

“That’s the man,” she insisted.

“Listen, lady, if he took your boy, I don’t think you’ll see him again honestly,” the desk officer said quietly. “I’m sorry, but he’s on a special task force, and your boy was involved in more than shoplifting.”

“Oh!” Ra’Jirra squealed, as if suddenly in anguish. “It’s those hooligans he hung around with, wasn’t it? Always talking about revolution this and insurrection that. This one knew he was in with a bad crowd, but she never thought… This one told him they would cause him trouble.”

“Look, I could go bring the Detective over to talk to you, but I wouldn’t advise it. He’s not very friendly. If your boy comes home with a black eye and some broken bones, count yourself lucky. If he doesn’t come home at all… well, that happens sometimes.”

“Oh!” Ra’Jirra began to cry. “No… No, I’ll do as you say. I’ll wait at home.”

With that she walked out of the station, caught a ride to the hotel, and went back to her room. The maids had been in, but she found nothing out of place. She took a long, leisurely bath, then put on her most elegant gown. A black affair, blackless and cut so low the top practically met the bottom. She smiled at herself in the mirror. Perfect, if she did say so herself. Then she went down to the casino.

She relished the looks she garnered when she walked in the door. She was in no way overdressed for the place, but when properly outfitted and trained, a khajiit woman was a rival in beauty to even the most elegant Altmer. Smiles went up on men’s faces, frowns on the women. Mostly. She crossed to the long bar.

“What does a cat have to do to get a bite to eat in this place?” she asked the bartender in a pretty good imitation of a Hammerfell accent.

“Why, just ask!” he responded with a chuckle. “What would you like?”

“What I’d really like,” she said, intentionally using the forbidden first person pronoun, “is a good sized plate of ground meat, lightly seared, water and a good stiff drink.”

“You’ve got it lady! What kind of drink?”

“You pick. You’re a bartender. Make me something special. But don’t forget the water. I might not like it.”

She scanned the crowd behind her. Various table games were set up. She watched carefully to see who was looking at her surreptitiously, but she caught no one, beyond those who obviously were watching her for other reasons.

The bartender returned with a colorful drink and a glass of water. She smiled at the bartender and dipped a finger in the drink, touching it to her tongue. It was sweet and strong.

“Mmm! What’s in it? Is that pineapple juice?”

“It is. My own concoction.”

She sipped and indeed it was tasty. “Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Sam,” he said simply leaning on the bar towards her.

Probably a lie, but she wasn’t one to mind. “Listen, Sam. I need your honest truth. Which of these tables are fixed? Who’s the sharks and who’s the fish?”

“All our gaming is as straight as an arrow, ma’am. There’s no…” he began before she interrupted.

“Sam,” she started, giving him the Sultry Eye. “There is no such thing. Look, you can check my cleavage out as much as you want. I don’t wear a dress like this because it’s comfortable. But be a dear and give me the straight scoop, okay? By the end of the night I’ll find out anyway, and you’ll lose a nice tip.”

“Table on the left is rigged,” he said quietly. “Dealer is a card shark. Can deal himself any card he wants. The roulette table is legit, as is the card table behind it. But it’s high stakes. That’s where the local bigwigs go for an honest game though.”

She smiled and bent over the bar a bit. A little tip for his honesty. “The drink really IS good. But I’m getting hungry. Would you mind checking on the food?”

“What?” he said, distracted. “Oh! Sure. Be right back.”

He brought the meat back, with a little salad.

“Thanks Sam. Um… will they mind if I… eat this properly?”

“Maybe you can step behind the bar instead? There’s a little room back here. No offense but, we’ve had khajiits in here before. I know what you mean.”

She nodded and went to a little room where she wolfed the food down as she really wanted to, then came back to the bar, dabbing her mouth with a napkin delicately.

“Thanks,” Sam said sincerely.

“No, thank you. It’s annoying not to be able to eat the way we want to.”

“By the way, your Hammerfell is excellent. Where are you from?”

“Oh, from here and there. I travel a lot. But sorry Sam, I’ve got to take your favorite cleavage away now. Nice to meet you!”

“You too! Say, want to go out later? I’m off at midnight.”

“Sorry. Can’t stay that long. Raincheck?”

“Sure. I’m here every night.”

She took her drink and water and slunk her way around the tables in her best sultry walk, tail sashaying behind her with abandon.

“Say,” the bartender called. “What’s your name?”

She smiled. Bingo. “Ra’Jirra’, she called back. “My name is Ra’Jirra.” she repeated, emphasizing the forbidden first person possessive..

Heads turned. Some at the unusual sound of a khajiit voice speaking in a Hammerfell accent, others at the name itself.

“The problem with being undercover,” she thought as she advanced on the high roller table, “is that you never know who sees through it. Better to have your cards exposed. Then you don’t have to wonder.”

Chapter 5 of 12

As she approached the table, the three men seated rose. She smiled at their courtesy, and took a seat offered by a small man at the end of the table.

“Thank you. Nice to see some gentlemen still respect a lady.”

“Oh, certainly,” said the man. “We in Hammerfell do respect traditions. At least… most of us do.”

“So, what’s the game? If I’m going to lose my money, I might as well know the rules.”

“Hammerfell poker,” he smiled as she took some coins from a small purse. All were gold.

“It’s the easiest game there is. Bet and you get one card. Another round of betting and you get a second card. Final round of betting and anyone left turns their cards up. Highest pair wins, highest card if no pair. If players both have the same high card, second card counts.”

“Got it,” Ra’Jirra said and put down her bet. All three men called.

“So, what are you doing in town?” the man asked while checking his card.

“Leisure. I travel a lot for work, so sometimes it’s nice to have a vacation.”

“Ra’Jirra on vacation. That’s a good one,” he said quietly.

She looked down to see a knave. Not a bad card. She bet again. The man beside her called while the other two folded.

“Excuse me, do I know you?” she asked, not wanting to appear disturbed.

“I doubt it. The name is Trudal. Inspector Trudal. I happen to be the chief of security here in Rihad. But I know you.”

Ra’Jirra’s ears twitched at the name and title. Coincidence? Not likely. She looked down at a 9.

“Check,” she declared.

The man looked at her. She looked back. He placed two coins on the table.

“Fold,” she declared, throwing her cards back. “Oh?”

“Yes indeed,” he said as he stacked his winnings in front of him. “I saw your name in a certain publication, regarding a certain Imperial incident a few weeks ago.

“You do your homework,” she said, putting out another bet.

“So, how are you enjoying your stay? Meet any interesting people?”

“Actually, I have. I met a couple gentlemen just last night in fact.”

She saw him smile while checking his cards.

“Oh? Did you show them a good time.”

“They wanted to have a good time, but unfortunately one of them fell ill. Stomach ache.”

She bet two gold coins on her 3.

The Inspector folded, but turned to her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Ra’Jirra. They weren’t there for serious games.”

The man on the end called her and another round of cards was dealt. She got a 5.

“No. I didn’t think so. But I didn’t make it serious.”

“Come on, Ra’Jirra. We have our own ‘tourists’ too. You don’t think we know of your little toy? In a month we’ll have our own Puss.”

She raised 3 more gold coins and the man at the end folded. She turned up the bluff and took her winnings.

She pocketed the coins and rose from the table. “Inspector, can I have a word with you?”

He nodded and rose from the table, leaving his stack of coins. They retired to a quiet table away from any prying ears.

“I had nothing to do with it, Inspector,” she said. “The Mane’s truth. Ask your man where I was when it happened. He’ll tell you I was on the ground. Then check the blood. He was shot from behind. Jeeze, even a rank amateur could see that.”

The Inspector contemplated that for a moment. “I will. What are you really here for, cat?”

“That, you know, is none of your business.”

“Oh, it’s exactly my business. If your story checks out, I’ll call off the dogs. But you should know that it’s a tense time for us. Your actions can have consequences here.”

“That is between you and the Imperials. I work for Elsweyr….”

“Who are in bed with the Imperials,” the Inspector interrupted.

“Today yes. Tomorrow, who knows? I may be in your bed tomorrow. Just do your homework and don’t make assumptions. Your man was sloppy or he’d have known I didn’t pull the trigger. Look, I’m not dumb. I’m not here to cause any international incident. Don’t let your Detective Royan cause one because of his stupidity.”

This time it was the Inspector that was surprised that she knew his man’s name. Ra’Jirra took the opportunity to nudge him a little farther while he was off-balance.

“There was an explosion today. A friend of mine’s place was bombed. Could have gotten us both killed.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” he said defensively.

“Maybe you should. I expect you should ask your ‘detective’ about it.”

The Inspector nodded.

“Please, sir. I have the greatest respect for your work. If you can keep this city under control, you are a man of extraordinary ability. I’ll leave your city as soon as I possibly can. Just a few more days. I won’t cause any problems, unless you want them. If you do, there’ll be plenty.”

“See that you don’t. Tensions are high enough already. But if you didn’t do it, who did?”

“I don’t know. Honest I don’t. But I hope to find out. Shall we rejoin the table then?”

“I think not. I’ve got some things I need to check out. Goodnight to you, Ra’Jirra.”

“Good night Inspector. And… when the political climate changes…”

“As it always does. Yes?”

“Look me up. We might have some mutually beneficial opportunities.”

“I’ll do that, Lady Ra’Jirra,” he said and bowed to her. She did likewise in the Hammerfell manner. Then she left the casino and went back to her room. The paper was still in place.

“Whew,” she thought to herself as she deposited her coin purse back in the briefcase. “I think I’ve done my bit for International Relations tonight! I deserve a raise.”

A knock came at the door and she looked out the window. Dusk. Right on time.

She peered out the small hole in the door and verified it was Sarosh, then opened the door. He seemed excited.

“Are you alright Sarosh?”

“Fine. Look at this…”

She gestured to the bed and he sat beside her as she scanned some drawn pictures. The hand that drew them was quite precise. An engineer.

“Raj, she sent me this. It’s a layout of the security center headquarters. The device is there.”

“How’s the security around the building?”

“It’s decent, Ra’Jirra, but she has a plan. But it has to be tonight. She’s working late, but she’s in the office with the device. She will leave a window unlocked. If you can get to the window, you should be able to slip in, grab the device, and go back out the same way. The security is tightest around the front and back entries. The window is on the side of the building. How are you at climbing?”

She smiled and he didn’t need to repeat the question.

“Good. The building is made of stone though, not wood.”

“No problem. Anything short of glass I can climb. How far?”

It’s on the third story. Not too bad.

“Okay. What about you? Where are you staying?”

This time it was Sarosh that smiled. “Our favorite hotel of course!”

“That hellhole? Why there?”

“I have fond memories. Second time I’d ever seen a naked khajiit.”

“Hey, it was hot! I thought you slept through it.”

“A man’s gotta pee sometime.”

“Well alright. Listen, I found the name of the guy who bombed your place. A Detective Royan. But Sarosh, I think he has been dealt with. I had a little talk with an Inspector Trudal.”

“Trudal! How did you meet him?”

“He was at the casino tonight.”

“Here? Holy shit. What happened?”

“I pointed out that we couldn’t have killed his thug. And I don’t think he knew about your bomb. I expect Mr. Royan is going to have an interesting meeting with the Inspector.”

“I hope so. But I can’t stay here. If the Inspector was here, he’s bound to have some goons around the place. You know how to find me if you need me tonight, right?”

“Our little love nest. How could I forget it?”

“Okay. I’m heading back. Good luck tonight.”

“You too. Be careful.”

“I will.”

She shut the door behind him and sat back on the bed, committing the floor-plan to memory. Then she burned and bagged it, and put the bag in the briefcase. Then she got out her catsuit and a bag of ash.

*****************************************

Contrary to popular opinion, khajiits weren’t actually invisible when trying to be stealthy. But they’d perfected certain techniques that helped considerably. One was the catsuit. It was not black, and was not shiny - both were terribly bad choices when trying to not be seen. Instead, it was a dull grey and extremely stretchy. She’d had small cutouts put in as a way to stay cooler though. Over it she wore a loose fitting blouse and shorts, and the cheapest shoes she had. She expected to leave them behind.

She had the taxi pull up a few blocks from the building, then walked around the block casually, eying the place. The fence surrounding it was tall but easily scale-able. However it blocked her view of the yard beyond. She saw guards at both the front and back entrances, but they seemed no more vigilant than most. She turned at the back corner of the block and slid into a darkened doorway. Then she pulled off the outer clothes, removed her shoes and dusted herself thoroughly with ash. It was easily obtained and did an excellent job of dulling her fur. Then she flexed her claws on both hands and feet. A few stretching exercises later and she was ready to go.

She waited for the street to be deserted between her and the fence. That took a while. The place wasn’t heavily populated at this time of night, but it seemed every time one person would turn the corner out of sight, another would pop out at the other end of the block. But finally the coast was clear and she raced on all fours across the street, leaped over the low shrubs lining the wall and scrambled up the side of the wooden fence. She dropped over the top immediately and sat on her haunches watching for any signs of alarm.

Nothing came. The guards at the front of the building were still maintaining their posts, and she could see no one at the back. She waited, to be sure. No dogs or similar watch-beasts were seen either. The ground between her and the building was maybe fifty feet, and lighting was dim. Perfect.

When she finally felt that nothing was laying in wait, she again raced on all fours to the wall of the building and stopped. She waited for her breathing to return to normal, though she was controlling it so she made no sound anyway. While waiting, she checked the stone wall. It was vertically true, the stones uneven in shape. There were no regularly spaced breaks, but that was okay. They were rough enough to get finger and toeholds.

She checked both sides again. No guards in sight, and she began to climb, slowly. While of course it would be best to get up the wall as rapidly as possible, sudden movements always attracted more attention than slow, deliberate ones. In ten minutes she was past the second floor.

She heard a sound below her. A guard was walking the perimeter. He would pass directly below her. She carefully shifted her hold to a somewhat more stable grip that she could maintain and squeezed herself into the wall as best she could, not daring to look. Eye reflections were a dead giveaway.

The guard passed, ever so slowly. She watched him as he walked calmly, looking every direction including up at the wall. He must have looked directly at her at some point and still didn’t see her. That was expected. She was good at this.

Still, she didn’t move until he was completely out of sight. Then she continued her slow climb until she was just below the window. It had only the slightest of sills, but after her climb it was like stepping onto a huge platform. However she was most vulnerable here. She stood out like a grey ghost against the total darkness of glass. She tugged up on the window and it slid upwards - not noiselessly but quiet enough. She slipped in and lowered the window.

Looking around, the room was just as expected. This was someone’s office, and she wondered if maybe the Inspector worked here. She crept to the door and turned the handle slowly. Locked, but from the inside it was a simple turn of a lever to unlock it. The handle was silent as death, but the hinges weren’t. At the first sound, she stopped, removed a vial of oil she kept handy for just such a need, and anointed them. Then she slid the door open carefully. The squeaking stopped and she stepped out into a hallway - dark and deserted. She turned to the right, went down three doors, turned back to another hallway and came to a halt at the first door on her right. She tried the handle. It was locked.

She’d anticipated this though. Guards were trained to test the lock on all doors. Even if Romanov had left the door unlocked, a guard would have checked and locked it after her. She drew out her small tools and began to feel for the mechanism within.

It took her a good half hour to finally get it right. During that time a guard had entered, strolling through the hallways to check everything again. She avoided him easily, simply keeping two walls between them all the while. Before he would turn a corner, she would turn the other way. He executed no unexpected switchbacks, just followed the pattern of the hallways until he had completed each one. His jiggling of the door handles kept her always aware of where he was and she made no noise at all.

Finally he left, presumably to go check another floor and she returned to the door, remembered her last test and eventually the slightest of clicks was heard as the lock disengaged. She opened the door cautiously but this one didn’t squeak.

The device was precisely where indicated. A smallish box, apparently of Dwemer metal, though what she could see of the gears within appeared to be steel. There was no good way to carry it, though, short of some straps she had brought along for this purpose. The skin-tight catsuit certainly had no pockets.

She had been in the building no more than an hour, and she was on her way out again. Retracing her steps, she opened the window and stood on the sill as she closed it again behind her.

Now was her most vulnerable though. Invisible she may be, but the device - though not large - was metallic and shiny. She climbed down much quicker than she had climbed up. Again she stopped at the base of the wall, but this time the perimeter guard was approaching. She curled into a ball around the device, hiding her claws and tucking her head towards the wall. He stopped for a moment, and she prepared to attack. Then she heard a noise of liquid splashing against the ground. She risked a look, turning around slowly. He was pissing on the wall no more than twelve feet from her! She turned back away from him slowly and after what seemed an eternity, he finished.

“Impressive bladder,” she thought as she watched him continue to walk away after he’d passed her. Once he was out of sight, she uncurled and raced across to the fence, but she didn’t stop this time. The device was too obvious. Best to get over as soon as possible.

She made it over the fence with no problem and dropped behind the bushes on the other side. A passerby turned to look at what had made the slight noise, but he never stopped his strolling and she remained hiddent from his view. Finally he was out of sight and she was happy to find her clothes still where she’d left them. In a place like this, she would not have been surprised to see them stolen. This pleasant surprise would make the return to the hotel much, much easier!

She pulled the rag she had stuffed into her pants out and rubbed away the ash as much as possible. She put the device in a bag and walked calmly down the street the way she’d come, hailing a taxi as soon as she was able.

Finally she was back in her room. For the first time she breathed a sigh of relief. It had been easier than expected, but hopefully not too easy. She wanted to wash the ash out of her fur, but there was something else she wanted to do more. She sat down with the machine and began to enter in an encrypted code. It was one Queue had given her that they had managed to obtain from an informant. But they didn’t know how it was encrypted - only what the original message had looked like, and what the resulting message had been. The encrypted symbols were nonsense, but she had memorized them on her trip here.

She entered the code character-by-character and pulled the lever between each, writing the resulting rune on a paper. The runes were old Hammerfell script, but she had learned to read it well enough. The machine decrypted it perfectly. It was legit.

She smiled broadly, then put the device into her suitcase and turned the combination lock randomly, though making sure to leave the first one as Snake. Then she removed the street clothes, peeled herself out of the catsuit, and spent some time in the bath cleaning all the ash out of the catsuit, the clothes and her fur. The bath was a mess though, so she got a towel and cleaned it after her as well. When she was finished, it was well into the night and she was tired. She crawled under the blanket and fell to sleep instantly, a job well done.

Chapter 6 of 12

“I don’t know,” said the grate.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You were supposed to follow her!”

“Dammit, I’m not one of your agents. I have a very specific skill. It’s my specialty and I’m good at it. But I’m not a spook. I’m not good at trailing people all over the damn city! And while we’re at it, we need to talk about my pay. My typical job is a quick hit and gone. This is taking a lot of my time.”

“Oh no,” La’Dasha thought. “I’m losing him.”

“How much do you need?”

“Depends. How long does this need to go on?”

“You know the plan. Once they’ve met it should be over quickly.”

“I want my normal pay, multiplied by the number of days this takes.”

La’Dasha made a quick calculation.

“I’ll have to go back to my employer. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“You do that.”

“But you think she got the device last night?”

“I think so. I didn’t see her come back last night, but she’s in her room.”

“I know that. Do you know where he is?”

“Yes. I trailed him last night to a small hotel. He’s there.”

“Stay on him. I’ll watch her.”

“Will do.”

“And Failian? I know this isn’t what you do. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while, okay?”

“Hmm. Next time, get a spook to do your legwork. Or do it yourself.”

**************************

The day was overcast. She had begun to wonder if it ever rained here. But even if the clouds didn’t produce, at least they would block the damn sun. She took a taxi to the restaurant they’d first visited and ordered breakfast. Sarosh showed up a few minutes later and ordered the same. The restaurant wasn’t completely empty, but there were few enough that no one was within earshot.

“And?” he asked over his dark chocolate.

She smiled. “Everything checks out.”

The Redguard’s face relaxed. “Told you so. I’m going to meet her today in person. There’s a caravan leaving for Cyrodil tomorrow morning, just west of town.”

“That should be perfect. Khajiits?”

“Mostly, but there’s plenty of other races too. Everyone prefers to travel in a group across the border. Raids aren’t common, but they still happen sometimes.”

She nodded. The ancient tradition of trading by caravan had still not completely died out for the khajiits, but it was fading. However, traveling in large groups still had obvious advantages. It wasn’t the fastest mode of travel, but it was the safest.

“One thing. Before we go, do you mind going back to that alley with me? I’d like to have one more look around.”

“Sure,” Sarosh said, downing the last of his morning drink. “Lead on.”

They got to the alley where the fight had been. It was deserted now of course. She saw the bloodstains at the back of the alley, pretty much just as she’d expected. Then she looked up towards the building on the left. Three stories. A pretty far distance.

“Hold these,” she said to Sarosh and took off her shoes and handed him her gun from where she’d kept it concealed, strapped around her thigh under her skirt. Her outfit wasn’t really made for climbing, but it would have to do. She hiked the skirt up over her hips and began to climb.

“Nice,” came the expected response. “But pink?”

“Shut it, soldier. You’re lucky I’m not going commando.”

“Am I?” Sarosh said.

She scaled the wall with ease, then stepped over the ridge at the top.

The roof was nearly flat - only a slight angle allowed the water to run off to the edge where it drained out. Pretty standard. It wasn’t yet too hot and the tar wasn’t sticky yet. She looked around and over the edge until she felt she was fairly sure she stood near where the gunman must have been. Then she looked around. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for. The footprints in the tar could have been from anyone, but they didn’t look very old. The tread was deep. New shoes. Probably human, though that was hard to be sure of.

And then something caught her eye. A small bit of metal shining a few feet to one side. She dropped to look at it before picking it up.

It looked like dwemer metal. Just a small cylinder, empty. She recognized what it must be instantly though. She pocketed it and climbed back down the wall.

She handed it to Sarosh.

“Dwemer metal for sure, but reworked,” he said definitively. “I used to do metalwork. This is impressively done though.:

“Do you know what it is?” Ra’Jirra asked as she put her shoes back on.

“Not a clue. Hollow. Looks like it used to hold something.”

“It did. It’s a shell casing for a bullet.”

“So it was a gun.”

“I don’t think there was ever any doubt of that,” Ra’Jirra said as they walked out of the alley. “But it’s not an Elsweyr design. We use steel.”

“Everyone does. Dwemer metal is getting hard as hell to find anymore.”

“It’s a sure bet Hammerfell wouldn’t use it. But everyone?”

“No! Not everyone. The Dominion.”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“What the hell does the Dominion have to do with this?”

“I don’t know, but…”

Suddenly something hit her in the jaw. Hard. Very, very hard. She went down, stunned.

Vaguely she was aware of shouting and a struggle, but everything was blurry. She tried to clear her head, but it was slow.

She saw a shape in front of her. It resolved into a face. One she recognized.

“Detective Royan,” she said, on the ground and still trying to shake it off.

“Ra’Jirra,” he said with spite. “How’s that jaw feel?”

It was more her cheek, but she wasn’t going to argue. She glanced to where Sarosh was laying on the pavement. She looked up and down the street. No one was around. The detective pulled her back into the alley, out of sight.

“You cost me my job, bitch. Killed my partner and got me fired. Feeling proud of yourself?”

“Listen, you gotta know I didn’t….”

He kicked her in the thigh. She let out a scream. No one answered, but the man looked around. He wasn’t sure. But then he pulled a blade out of his pocket.

“No one’s gonna help you now, cat. Looks like it’s just you, me, and my little cat skinner.”

The smile on his face scared her. But she still couldn’t get her body to work properly. She was helpless.

“I want to hurt you first, cat, but I haven’t the time.”

“I didn’t kill him, dammit!”

“Sure you did, cat. I was there. Remember?” he said and knelt on her chest. She tried beating at him, tearing at him with her claws, but it had no effect. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat.

It wasn’t the first time in her life she was scared to death. But it never got any easier. She struggled with all the energy she had, but he was too heavy and too strong. She spat at him, but he didn’t even stop to wipe it off. She saw the blade approach and she screamed as loud as she could. It didn’t even slow.

For the second time in as many days, a sound like thunder exploded in her ears. Unlike the last time though, she felt the hot blood cover her as the body thumped atop her, the knife clattering away.

She pushed him off with her hands, though they felt like clubs, but she was breathing hard and it wasn’t just due to the effort. She had expected to die, and she was literally shivering with fear. Her eyes were wild as she looked around. She saw Sarosh, struggling to stand, her gun in his hand.

“Come on, Raj. We’ve got to move!”

He got to his feet and managed to help her up. Her body was beginning to work again, but she was still trembling. She looked at Sarosh and then back to the body of Royan, then down at herself. She was a red mess.

They looked up and down the street. There were some people looking around a few blocks away, but no one nearby. Saroush helped Ra’Jirra take off her shirt and skirt, then put his own shirt around her. She fumbled at the buttons but couldn’t get her fingers to work right. Sarosh helped her button it up, then wrapped her old clothes inside-out so the blood wouldn’t show and they walked as calmly as they could back towards his hotel. Just a shirtless man and a khajiit in pink panties.

There was no one at the desk, so they went back to his room.

“S..same room?” Ra’Jirra asked.

He nodded. “Lay down Raj. You’ve had a tough morning.”

She did as he suggested, and he lay down beside her.

“N… no f..funny business,” she managed.

“No Raj. No funny business.”

She looked at his eyes. They were normal eyes. Not dark, not handsome. His face wasn’t chiselled and his hair wasn’t shoulder length. He didn’t even have any fur, unless you counted that fuzz on his chest. But right now, he struck her as the most handsome man she had ever seen. She kissed him, but he pulled away.

“Stow it, soldier,” he said.

“Sorry. I’m… a little overcome.”

“Yes, you are. Just relax, okay?”

“Thank you, Sarosh.”

“You’d have done the same for me, I’m sure.”

“The Inspector’s going to be pissed.”

“Yeah. Probably,” he said, but he put his arm around her neck and pulled her to him. His chest was hairy and he was still sweating from the fight. And yet, she did feel better.

“Ra’Jirra, I can’t stay in the city any longer. Once you’re better, I’ve got to go.”

She nodded. She had at least some immunity here as an unofficial representative of Elsweyr. He was a nobody. And now he was a murderer. Of an ex-secret police member. He did have to leave.

“The caravan?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ll meet you there. I’ll get the message to Romanov before I leave.”

Suddenly she relaxed, as if something in her head had finally relented from being tensed up for too long. Her eyes drooped and she stared blankly at his chest.

“Goodnight, Ra’Jirra. Sleep for a bit,” he said, and she did just that, feeling his chest rise and fall against her cheek. She felt… safe.

Chapter 7 of 12

She awoke alone. Sarosh had left a note nearby. She didn’t have anything to burn it with, so she made do with an alternate disposal method. It didn’t taste very good. Then she pulled on the shorts he had left her. They were much too big of course, and didn’t have a tail hole, but with a little work from her claws, she had that problem taken care of, and she cinched the belt tighter. She still wore his shirt and it smelled of him. She smiled at that.

She left the little hotel and found a taxi. Fortunately Sarosh had left some coins in the pockets and she got back to the Pendant without incident. Her door had been opened, but the maid service would have done that. Inside all was as she’d left it, and the device was still locked inside the briefcase in her closet.

She took yet another long bath. She was just about ready to get out when she heard a key in the door and the Inspector barged into the suite.

“Ra’Jirra?” he called harshly.

“I’m in the bath, Inspector.”

The man entered the bathroom without so much as a knock at the door.

“Washing the blood out?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I am. No thanks to you.”

His face began to redden. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t arrest you right now, cat!”

“Self defense. Is that reason enough? You’ll have to trust me on this, but I’ve got a hell of a bump on my cheek, probably a fractured thighbone, and if my friend hadn’t shot your thug, I’d be dead in an alley, with my skin likely adorning his living room as a damn rug!

“Oh hell. I can see the bump, and your eye doesn’t look good. But he’s not my thug anymore. I fired him this morning.”

“Like I didn’t know that. I think he was more pissed at that than his partner - and he was going to take it out on me.”

“We need to bring your friend in for questioning, Ra’Jirra,” the Inspector said, calming down when he saw the other side of her face.

“Not going to happen, Inspector. He’s left the city. And damned if I didn’t advise him to.”

“We can find him. Can’t have gotten too far yet.”

“Please don’t, Inspector. It was… necessary.”

“I believe you, Ra’Jirra. I do, though damned if I know why. But things are getting out of hand. This can’t go on. The two weren’t exactly chums with a lot of the other officers, but losing two back-to-back - and in the same place yet. I’ve got pressure from below, asking questions. I’m keeping a lid on it, or it might spark an outright declaration of war with Elsweyr.”

“Sucks to be you,” Ra’Jirra said, standing up. “Inspector, can you hand me that towel?”

The Inspector couldn’t help but stifle a laugh when he saw her in soaked fur. She was somewhat less beautiful when wet.

“Yeah, I bet you look like a hero of myth and legend in your bath,” she growled, snatching the towel from him. She made a point of drying her ass in his face.

“Okay Ra’Jirra. I get it. Don’t take this wrong, but…”

Rajirra turned around at the pause, drying her hair. “Yeah?”

“Get the hell out of my city. I don’t want to see you here next week.”

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you. I’ll be gone.”

“See that you are. And if there’s one more dead cop by your damn PUSS, you’re going to jail, international incident or not.”

“I read you loud and clear Inspector. But one thing. We just call it a ‘gun’.”

He nodded. “That is better,” he agreed. She saw him to the door and let him out.

She finished dressing, donning her most expensive outfit and spent some quality time on herself. This was probably going to be her last night at the hotel and she felt like going out in style. She certainly wouldn’t have a chance to dress like this in the caravan. While the new dress was in actuality less revealing than the black number she’d worn the other day, with all the openings in it, it didn’t look so. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her body looked delicious. Her face, not so much.

She rummaged through her bag and found a pair of oversize sunglasses. Though it might be a bit of a fashion faux pas to wear them indoors, they did cover her eyes and her cheek was barely noticeable. As a culmination, she spritzed on her best perfume that hinted slightly of citrus and left the room, restoring a new scrap of paper to the door jam.

Sam smiled when he saw her enter the casino. She sat at the bar and smiled back.

“Welcome back, Ra’Jirra. I hope you’re with us longer tonight!”

“I expect I will be. Any change in the tables?”

“Nope. About the same. Speaking of which, another of my special concoctions?”

“Yes, please - but not exactly the same. I like to mix it up.”

He turned back and started mixing a drink. “So what’s with the glasses?”

“I had a bit of a tussle this morning honestly. Got quite a shiner.”

“Oh? Can you even see those on a khajiit?”

She pulled her glasses off. “What do you think?”

“Oh! Ra’Jirra. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You should see the other guy!”

Sam laughed and brought her the drink. It was clear with specks of green. She took a sip. It was delicious, though not as fruity as the other had been.

“Very good. No need for that water, Sam. You mix a good drink.”

“You hungry?”

“Yeah, actually. Can you get me some chicken? Any way you like.”

“Will do. And the room in the back is always available to you.”

“Thanks. I’ll be over at the roulette wheel I think. If I don’t lose all my money before the food is ready.”

She sat at the table, nursing her drink and traded some gold coins for the little color coded chips they used as counters. A pale khajiit sat at the end seat, quite a beauty she had to admit. The bright blue eyes accented her nearly white fur, and she was bit curvier than Ra’Jirra, though her dress was much more conservative. Ra’Jirra felt a twinge of jealousy. Beside her sat a middle aged Bosmer, two Redguards that apparently were on honeymoon considering their closeness, Ra’Jirra herself, and right by the wheel sat a youngish argonian. The ball was spinning so she waited for it to fall.

33 Black. She saw the dealer - no, correction, the croupier put a glass indicator over the chips on that number. All three were black. He swept the other chips into a hole beside him, then counted the winning black chips out and slid them across the table to the other khajiit. Then he removed the glass indicator and everyone started placing their bets across the table again.

“Nice hit,” she said to the other khajiit. The other cat looked at her as if just noticing her for the first time.

“Nice glasses,” she replied, then went back to betting with the others.

Ra’Jirra took five chips and placed them on red. She won, but a bet on a single color only yields double and nothing if the ball stopped on 0 or 00. The actual number was 16, and the newlyweds, as she dubbed them, squealed as the glass indicator landed on one of their chips. Underneath their pink chips was another black one. The croupier payed off the couple and the other khajiit too.



“Damn,” said the gravelly voice of the argonian beside her. “I was going to play that.”

Ra’Jirra took her extra five chips and scattered them around the inner table at random, leaving the original 5 on red. The ball spun and landed on 0 - a losing number for everyone at the table. The croupier took all her chips as well as all the others.

A tap came at her shoulder. It was Sam. Her chicken was ready. She asked the croupier if he could save her place, and he moved her remaining chips to the side. She rose and went back behind the bar where Sam had left her chicken.

“Say, Sam. Who’s that pale cat at the table by me?”

“Oh her? Calls herself La’Dasha. She just arrived yesterday. Never seen her before that. Why, jealous?”

“She’s a beautiful khajiit, I have to admit,” Ra’Jirra replied.

“Not as pretty as you,” he said and Ra’Jirra hit his shoulder.

“Lay off the flattery, bartender,” she said. “I’m not blind, you know.”

“Well, okay. She’s prettier than you. Is that better?”

“No, actually. It’s not. Go back to the flattery,” she frowned.

“I like your sideboobs!” he offered as consolation.

She hit him again, but snickered at the same time.

“I’ll leave you to take out your jealousy on the chicken,” Sam said as he closed the door behind her.

**********************

She finished her food quickly and went back to the table. The argonian was gone, replaced with a young local. The honeymooners were still there and the khajiit lady had a large stack of chips in front of her. She’d been winning.

“What’s your strategy, La’Dasha?”

The khajiit’s eyes shot up, unexpectedly intense. “What do you mean?”

Odd.

“You’ve obviously been winning since I left. Do you have a strategy?”

The khajiit relaxed. “Oh. No. This one is just lucky today.”

“Damn touchy,” Ra’Jirra thought, then set her chips out in front of red again. She really wasn’t much of a gambler. The ball landed on 00 and again everyone lost. The pale khajiit lady stood, requested her chips be cashed in, and left the table.

“Sorry to be a cooler, guys,” Ra’Jirra apologized to the others at the table, but they were genial. She continued playing for some time, then went back to the bar. She saw Sam talking with the pale khajiit at the other side of the bar. Obviously there was no love lost between the two khajiits.

Sam came over to her.

“Can I get another?” she asked, rattling her glass.

“Sure Ra’Jirra. How are you doing?”

“Eh. Down a little. I guess tonight’s not my lucky night.”

“Sorry to hear that, but the table is legit.”

“So how are you doing with your new kitty friend?”

He smiled back at her but didn’t reply.

“Well, at least one of us will get lucky tonight. Say, Sam… I may be leaving tomorrow. If I don’t see you again, thanks anyway. Here’s a little something for your trouble,” and she put 5 gold coins on bar.

“It’s no trouble, Ra’Jirra. And good travels if so. If not, I’m here every night till midnight.”

“Got it,” Ra’Jirra said and returned to the table, but something had soured her on the gaming so she cashed in her chips and returned to her room.

Chapter 8 of 12

The scrap of paper was gone.

“Damn,” she thought. There had been no where to conceal the gun with this outfit on. She’d left it in the briefcase. She opened the door carefully, looking for tripwires. Inside the lights were off. She always left them on. She turned the switch on now.

She saw a black shape on the couch sit up.

“Would you mind turning it back off,” said a silky feminine voice and Ra’Jirra had to look twice to make sure it came from a khajiit.

“You Romanov?” she asked, but switched the light off anyway.

Two orange eyes glowed back at her from blackness.

“I am. But please, call me Ko’Manir. That other name is just what the humans call me. You could say I’m rediscovering my khajiit ancestry. As for the lights… call me paranoid. I can’t go back again, you see. I’ve burnt my bridges. If someone catches me here I’ll be executed on the spot.”

Ra’Jirra crossed to the mini bar. “Something to drink, Ko’Manir? They keep a good supply here.”

“Yes, please. Something warm. It’s cold in here.”

Her eyes adjusted to the low light quickly. Pouring a couple of drinks was no problem, but when she turned back, the black khajiit remained a dark place on the couch with two glowing eyes hovering. They blinked.

She handed a drink to the blackness. It took it with warm hands.

“Thank you. Yes, that is very good. I suppose you’re wondering about my motivation?”

“Actually, I’m more curious about how you came to work for the Hammerfell Secret Service in the first place.”

“It is a long story,” said the darkness, the eyes closing.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I. I can’t go home anymore. They’ll be looking for me. Can I stay with you?”

“There’s only one bed.”

Slitted eyes opened in the blackness, and for the first time, white fangs accompanied them. “I think that is all we need.”

Ra’Jirra downed her drink. “I… think I’ll have another. You?”

The black khajiit rose and took Ra’Jirra’s glass. “I’ll get it.”

As she crossed in front of the glass window, the moonlight shone through the sheer fabric of Ko’Manir’s dress, revealing the silhouette of an impressive figure under it’s gauzy folds. Ra’Jirra gulped. Obviously she’d been chaste far too long of late. If Ko’Manir was trying to seduce her, it was working too well. She looked away.

“You seem to know quite a bit about me, yet I know nothing about you. So yes, why don’t you tell me your story?”

Ko’Manir returned, handing her refilled drink to Ra’Jirra.

“I was born here in Hammerfell. Not Rihad, mind you, a small northern village. My parents tried to teach me Ta’agra and keep me true to the traditions of the khajiit, but I failed them. I demanded to go to school with the other children. Perhaps I suffered some discrimination there, but what of it? I also had good, good friends there. And I was good at school too. I excelled, you might say, especially at languages. I’ve always been fascinated with them, you see?”

“Except not Ta’agra?”

“Pah. Ta’agra is a gutter language. We limit ourselves needlessly. It’s only advantage is that our mouths form the words easily, but communication requires so much more, you see? And we are not linguistically challenged. We can speak other languages with ease. Yet we burden ourselves with that archaic language, the harsh siblants, the shrill cadence. I speak it just fine, but I choose not to. It is inherently limiting.”

“You’re passionate about it, I see. But go on. So you grew up here, I get it.”

“I did. But my parents did not stay, and I refused to go with them. I was… am… strong willed perhaps? But you, you are the same, no?”

A black paw darkened her arm. Ra’Jirra looked at it, then back at the two glowing eyes. She felt odd. Hot. But she didn’t push her away. “Some have said so. But go on. So you were left alone?”

“Oh no,” said the darkness and it shifted beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “I was not alone! I had friends, and I was nearly an adult by then. But I never left school. I excelled too much to go unnoticed by the professors. Scholarly khajiits are a thing unknown here, but I showed them that we are every bit as intelligent as they, if we try. I did try. And I surpassed them all.”

“So, you basically adopted Hammerfell as your home country?”

“They adopted me! Why should I not do the same? After I exceeded the backwater educators at my school, I was offered a very prestigious position at a government facility where they had me translating texts of all sorts. It was fun work, for a while. But I noticed the texts became less scholarly and more political in nature. They stopped being about history or ancient cultures, and became increasingly more stories from political publications from far and wide. I am not a stupid khajiit, Ra’Jirra. I knew what they were grooming me for. And I approved.”

“A spy?”

“No. I’d call it perhaps espionage, but the publications weren’t secret. At first anyway. But they became so over the years, and I found I was good at decrypting them. All languages have patterns in them, you see. If you can recognize the patterns, deciphering them becomes much easier!”

She was obviously getting into this, Ra’Jirra saw. She was passionate on the subject, and that passion was infectious. While it wasn’t Ra’Jirra’s own expertise, she could appreciate the other’s excitement at the subject. It was another kind of investigation, and any good investigator should feel of thrill of satisfaction when the object of inquiry is achieved.

“So you began to get into decoding,” Ra’Jirra suggested, but she was fascinated by the eyes and the mouth of the dark khajiit. She felt the warm paw moving gently over her thigh.

“And encoding. My superiors sent me to classes at the local university. You’d be amazed how much mathematics gets involved! I certainly was. But I stuck with it. Your dossier on me probably calls me a mid level cryptologist, does it not? But I tell you with complete sincerity that I am the best person they have in the field.”

“You’re also the humblest person I’ve ever met,” Ra’Jirra said, but her hand strayed on top of Ko’Manir’s and followed the long arm up.

“Oh damn. Well, it’s not bragging if you can back it up, right? Sorry, I get carried away when I talk about work. Anyway, I’ll get to the point. In some ways, I am just mid level, if that. They don’t trust me, Ra’Jirra. I’ve never given them one damn reason not to, but they won’t promote me. And I continue to learn. I’ve hit a glass ceiling, Ra’Jirra. And I know why. It’s not because of my sex, it’s because of my race. Well dammit, I know a place I can go where that won’t be a problem!”

“Elsweyr,” Ra’Jirra said, her eyes closing.

“Of course Elsweyr. And I can meet my parents again. They’re retired now, down in Corinthe.”

“Pretty place, Corinthe. Okay, You’ve convinced me. But why did you ask for me?”

“Haven’t you guessed by now?” Ko’Manir said, leaning close. “Ra’Jirra… you’re my hero.”

Ra’Jirra felt a the soft hand slip under her dress at the shoulder. It felt unbelievably good.

“I’ve read a lot about you, Ra’Jirra. More than just the obvious publications too. I began to seek out all I could. You’re a khajiit that has risen to prominence, if only to those few who know of such things.”

“Romanov…” Ra’Jirra said huskily. She found herself wanting this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. And yet, something bothered her. Something seemed wrong. But she couldn’t think straight, and she really didn’t care.

“‘Call me Ko’Manir’, please,” said the darkness.

“Liski… ahziss boqi” Ra’Jirra said, closing her eyes and opening her mouth. Another tongue found hers and she lay back against the couch, a warm darkness enveloping her.

“There are times, I must admit…” Ko’Manir said as she drew Ra’Jirra’s dress up over her head, “…when Ta’agra works best.”

And then the talking stopped. They retired to the bedroom shortly afterwards.

**********************************

“Did you get it all?” La’Dasha asked the Altmer.

He smiled back at her. “Every bit.”

The device he called a ‘camera’ was ingenious, though magical in origin.

“We are working with our best alchemists to devise a non-magical method, but for now this is all we can do,” he’d told her when he had arrived two days ago.

“Anything the lens sees will be recorded onto a scroll visibly. For longer recordings, we simply load in a longer scroll.”

“And your magic is sufficient?”

“We Altmer are the last to be able to retain the required mana, but yes. My stores will be quite sufficient for your needs.”

“They’d better be. We need this scroll. It will make a laughing stock of her. Why she hasn’t been arrested already, I don’t know.”

“Be careful, La’Dasha. You know I outrank you,” said the Altmer.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry. I just need to make sure this goes as planned.”

The Altmer shut down the camera and moved a lever.

“It’s over now. She’s fallen asleep.”

“Let me see!” La’Dasha demanded, and the Altmer drew a long scroll, tightly wound, from a spindle.

La’Dasha unrolled it and scanned the sequential images on it.

“Oh… Oh gods!”

“Yes, she’s quite the tiger, your little khajiit.”

“Wait… is that what I think it is?”

“What? Let me see…” said the Altmer, curious. “Oh yes, indeed it’s just what it looks like. The dark one has proven to be surprisingly adventurous for a desk agent!”



“This is better than I’d ever dreamed,” La’Dasha grinned.

“It… should suffice,” the Altmer said, taking the scroll back and placing it into a tube, then sealing the tube and handing it back to La’Dasha.

“My work here is done. I’ll be going. I find that outside of this hotel the environment is not to my liking. But La’Dasha.”

She looked up from the tube, wondering if she should risk viewing the whole thing when she was in private. But then she’d just end up hungry. “Yes?”

“You are aware, are you not, that the Dominion has… other such scrolls?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t think we would risk this opportunity on an untested device, surely? But I’m happy to report that the test went flawlessly. Your scroll is on it’s way back to headquarters now.”

“My?… what?” Then she realized what he was saying.

“Oh yes. I don’t know, but I suspect that between the two recordings, yours was perhaps a bit more… deviant shall we say? But do not trouble yourself about that. I’m sure it will only be used to entertain some of our higher ranking officials. I hope to see you again soon, La’Dasha. Goodbye.”

And with that the Altmer packed up his gear and left her room - the room stationed directly below the penthouse suite in fact.

La’Dasha seethed. If they thought that recording her was going to work as blackmail, though, they were sorely mistaken.

Chapter 9 of 12

Ra’Jirra awoke at dawn. Her head felt a little odd, but she chalked it up to the lack of sleep and turned to the jet black form of Ko’Manir. What had she been thinking? She knew nothing about this woman. It wasn’t her first time with a woman, true. She was beautiful and wild last night and Ra’Jirra obviously had wanted her too. But she was normally in better control over herself than that. Maybe she’d drank more than she’d thought.

And she wondered how much of Ko’Manir’s story was true.

She stroked the khajiit’s arm gently. “Ko, we’d better get moving. We’ve a better chance of not being seen if we leave early.”

Her lover turned over and smiled at her. It was nice to see her face in the light.

“Ra’Jirra. It wasn’t a dream.”

“If that was a dream, you’ve got some damn kinky dreams, kid.”

“Kid! I’m 23 years old. I’ve read your bio. You’re five years older than me. I’m hardly a kid!”

“No, sorry. You’re right. What did you bring with you?”

“Nothing. A little money, a notebook, and some travelling clothes.”

“Feel like a bath?”

“With you? Sure!”

“Okay, but only a quick one.”

An hour later was longer than she’d have liked, but it had been worth it. Well, she figured, after last night what could a little more hurt? She gathered up her own belongings after sending Ko’Manir out ahead of her.

The taxi ride out of town had been circuitous, but she wanted to be absolutely sure she wasn’t being tailed. At last she was satisfied and directed the driver to a spot near her true destination. Once there, she caught another taxi to deliver her to where the caravan waited. In fact, technically it had already started. She was one of a few stragglers, but there were still some camels for hire by the local khajiit merchants and she had her luggage stowed with one of them, and hired a horse for herself to ride. It was a smallish horse, and not terribly well trained, but she weighed little and it ran like the devil when she let loose of it’s reigns.

She kept the briefcase with her, but once she saw the camel and its rider were under way, she let the horse go to catch up with the main body of the caravan. The day was again blessedly overcast and hadn’t gotten too hot yet, but the feel of the wind through her hair had her laughing with joy.

“I think I’ll call you Arrow, my little friend!” she called to it in Ta’agra. It didn’t seem to mind, but it seemed to be having as much fun running at full speed as she was having. All too soon the she reached the caravan proper and slowed her ride. She looked back as she continued up the caravan and saw the city fading away behind her.

“Good riddance, Rihad, and I hope never to cross your border again!” she yelled at the stinking city and made an obscene gesture towards it. As soon as she did so, she regretted it. She’d probably sealed her fate that she would return.

She turned back to the caravan and squinted. A black horse rode beside a brown. Surely not…

But then she confirmed it. Who else would be riding a black horse, after all? It was Ko’Manir, and beside her rode Sarosh. She caught up with them quickly, then let Arrow cool down with a slow walk that still managed to move faster than the glacial pace of the pack camels.

“Ahoy!” she called and the two turned around and rode back to meet her.

“Ra’Jirra!” called Ko’Manir, smiling broadly.

“Nice of you to join us!” Sarosh said. “Romanov wanted to wait for you, but I told her you’d catch up soon enough.”

“Please, please Sarosh,” Ko’Manir said with a sour look on her face. “’Ko’Manir’ please? If I never hear that silly name again, it will be too soon.”

“Sorry… Ko’Manir,” he apologized. “So, any problems? You weren’t followed?”

“No. I took a hell of a route to make sure, but I’m sure I wasn’t,” Ra’Jirra answered. “But Ko… really? A black horse?”

She shrugged as they turned back to follow the caravan. “Don’t you think it suits me?”

“All too well. You know, black absorbs heat.”

“Ah, I thought about that. Can you believe it, one of the khajiit men gave me his headwear!”

“Better check for lice,” Ra’Jirra laughed,

“Well, besides that, it’s not too hot out with the clouds,” Sarosh noted.

“So how long do you think we’ll be on this slow train?”

“We should cross into Cyrodiil by nightfall. We camp overnight before heading on to Kvatch.the next day. I have a contact there where we can drop off the device. Then it’s on to Skingrad. I’ll be staying there where my family awaits. That’s the end of the line for the caravan, it circles back at that point. You and Ko’Manir will travel south from there to Elsweyr.”

Ra’Jirra looked at Ko’Manir who was smiling at her. She cringed a little. What was she thinking last night? She sincerely hoped the cryptologist wasn’t too infatuated with her. As much as Ra’Jirra did enjoy the previous night, it was a mistake. But what a mistake!

The landscape changed slowly but perceptibly as they continued eastward towards the Cyrodiil border. They’d been travelling north to skirt the wide Brena river. When finally the trail turned back eastward, the hard ground had turned into low grass and the river allowed them to ford it easily, still wide but shallow.

The caravan stopped on the far side of the river, and Ra’Jirra breathed a sigh of relief. Finally they were on friendly turf. They continued on some few miles before stopping as night came on. Her belongings were brought to her and she elected to purchase a tent for her, Ko’Manir and Sarosh which the khajiits erected for them - for a fee of course.

They sat outside the tent around a fire and spoke in low tones, what with other travelers and their tents pitched nearby. Sarosh was relaxed, knowing he would be reunited with his family soon, but Ko’Manir seemed tense.

Ra’Jirra spoke up, “So, Sarosh, what will you do now that you can’t go back?”

Sarosh shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll retire. I’ve saved quite a bit, actually. I could probably buy a small shop and go into business for real.”

“Well, if you do, let me know. Metalwork?”

“Jewelry specifically. I think I’d enjoy that. What about you, Ko’Manir?”

The dark head looked up from the fire, as if lost in her own thoughts. “Me? Oh, I haven’t thought ahead that far. I suppose I’ll have to work with the HMSS for a while. At least till they wring everything out of me they think might be worthwhile.”

“You don’t think that,” Ra’Jirra started, indicating the briefcase she kept always in sight, “that will be enough?”

The orange eyes turned on her. “Even now they will be notifying every agent they can to stop using it. At best it will be worthless within a few months. Messages already sent will decrypted, but that will only help for so long. The HMSS will want me to do more, but Hammerfell will make sure that the work I was doing is purged.”

“You sound like you regret your decision already,” Sarosh observed.

“No. I don’t regret it. But I can’t help having second thoughts. Espionage is such a fleeting business. Today’s enemies are tomorrow’s friends and vice versa. A few months ago Ra’Jirra was my sworn enemy, even though I still admired her. Now…”

“Now we’re friends,” Ra’Jirra said, taking her hand.

“Friends,” Ko’Manir repeated, and lay back on the short grass. “Are we?” she said to the stars.

“After last night, I certainly hope so!”

Sarosh looked at her, then back to Ra’Jirra, an eyebrow raised.

“Stow it, soldier,” she said with a smile, repeating his words.

“Yes SIR!” he said with alacrity.

“I think last night may have been a mistake,” Ko’Manir said, still not looking at Ra’Jirra.

Ra’Jirra turned to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “It may have been, but what’s done is done. I don’t regret it.”

“Not yet,” she said in almost a whisper.

“Enough of this,” Sarosh declared and stood up. “I’m off to take a piss. Who’s with me?”

“Well aren’t you suddenly a free spirit?!” Ra’Jirra laughed. “No, you go on. I don’t think I want to see that.”

Sarosh looked back to Ko’Manir who was looking at the stars and not paying attention, then back to Ra’Jirra. “No, I guess you probably don’t.”

“Hey!” Ra’Jirra said, throwing some grass in his general direction.

“Be right back.”

The two khajiits stayed quiet for a whilie. Ko’Manir broke the silence. “Do you know, the stars look exactly the same in Cyrodiil as in Hammerfell.”

“They do. I suppose from their perspective, there are no borders.”

“Do you think that could ever happen? No borders I mean?”

“Not in our lifetimes, no.”

“But someday maybe. Someday.”

“Perhaps,” Ra’Jirra said and moved next to Ko’Manir and put her arm around her. She didn’t think Ko’Manir’s wish would ever come true really, but she appreciated the desire anyway.

Suddenly the sound of a thunderclap rolled over the flat plain and someone screamed. Ra’Jirra leaped to her feet but put a hand to Ko’Manir’s chest when she stood up too.

“No. You stay here. Get in the tent.”

The dark khajiit didn’t protest. Ra’Jirra drew the gun from her pocket and ran in the direction of the scream. She found Sarosh a few yards away with a couple of the caravan khajiits, looking down at a dead man.

“What the hell?”

“He’s from Rihad. Secret police. He had me on the ground. Said he was administering justice. I think your Dominion friend…”

Then a second thunderclap was heard and Sarosh dropped to the ground.

“SAROSH!!!!” Ra’Jirra cried. She looked around desperately. The other khajiits had dropped to all fours, looking for the source of the sound. Yet even with the vaunted khajiit Night Eye, there was nothing to be seen. The plain was too flat and the sound had given only a vague clue as to its direction.

But Ra’Jirra wasn’t paying attention to any of that. She was holding her friend’s head in her lap, the red blooming from his side.

“Ra’Jirra… My family…”

“Sarosh,” she cried. “No. You can’t…”

“Tell them… I tried. And I love…”

“Oh Sarosh! No!”

And then he was gone. Ra’Jirra ripped open his shirt and saw the gaping wound. It was no longer flowing blood. The heart had stopped. The chest she had so recently felt so safe resting her head on no longer rose and fell. Sarosh was dead.

She cried then. She wailed the song of the khajiit into the sky. She kissed the face she had grown to love, as a friend. In other circumstances, surely as more. But he did not kiss her back.

“What was it?” she heard a khajiit voice whisper in her ear. She turned to see one of the caravan drivers squatting next to her, knives in both hands. “Are we under attack?”

She raised her head and looked out at the dark grassland in front of her.

“No. I don’t think so. Set a watch, but stay low. If anyone comes into camp, be wary of them. They have a weapon that can reach far - like an arrow, but even faster.”

“Do you know who caused this?” the khajiit asked, but he put a blanket over Sarosh’s body and she looked at him, tears still flowing but her face hardening.

“My ‘friend’,” she spat. She stood up then, daring the unseen assassin to take one more shot. She pulled out her gun and began walking towards the darkness. She walked in circles, trying to find the person who had killed Sarosh, but she found nothing and the thunder did not come again.

Finally she returned to her tent. The bodies had been taken away. Within, Ko’Manir was in one corner, a knife at the ready, but she set it down when she recognized Ra’JIrra.

“What happened? Where’s Sarosh?”

“Dead. A Hammerfell agent came for him and nearly killed him, but then a shot came out of the dark. Killed the agent. Then it came again, and killed Sarosh.”

“A shot?”

Ra’Jirra realized she wasn’t making sense to the frightened woman. She looked at the gun in her hand, and explained everything.

Chapter 10 of 12

“They’ve left the city. Yes, he’s going after them. I don’t know why! Ask that damn Inspector Trudal. We left so many clues they should both have been in jail by now. Yes, don’t worry. I gave it to my man. He’ll make sure she sees it before he finishes her. Yes, I am. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get a good signal again, but no matter what, I’ll see that it’s done.

What? Look, you can take that damn scroll and shove it up your ass. Don’t threaten me. I told you I’ll make sure it gets done, and I will! Your threats are pointless. I don’t care if you send it to everyone at the whole damned Bureau. Oh…. yeah. I forgot about that. Can you cut that part out? I just don’t look good in pink. Hey, it’s not like I have my entire lingerie wardrobe with me! Well dammit leave it in then, I don’t care.

Just… can you answer me one thing? Why? We’ve spent a hell of a lot of money on this, and I might lose my man over it if we can’t get him paid. That’s a lot of cost for someone we’re just going to kill anyway. No, I’m not questioning his judgment! I’m just asking WHY?!

Okay. No, I understand. When it’s done I’ll send a full report and you’ll see we followed the plan to the letter. Alright. I’ll contact you again as soon as I am able. Yes. Goodbye.”

***********************

The caravan began to depart before first light and a khajiit called from outside to wake them and to pack up the tent. Ra’Jirra felt Ko’Manir uncurled herself from around her.

“I must be getting soft,” she said to herself as she got dressed. “I’d only known the guy a few days. Why do I care so much? Is it because he has a family that are waiting for him?”

As if they would never stop, the tears came back again at the thought. They are waiting on a man who will never return, and I’m not going to be able to tell them for a long while.

Ra’Jirra and Ko’Manir had discussed the plan late into the night. Neither knew the man they were supposed to give the device to in Kvatch, but he would surely come to them when Sarosh didn’t show up at whatever designated place he’d planned. At least, she hoped he would. She really didn’t want to have to carry the thing all the way to Elsweyr if she could avoid it. She had the secondary objective in Ko’Manir herself, and splitting up the objectives would increase the likelihood of success of at least one. However, she’d decided to leave the caravan before Skingrad and instead travel alone with Ko’Manir to Elsweyr directly from Kvatch. Someone had been anticipating their every move, and it was time to do something that was not according to any plan.

But her mind kept returning to the Dominion. Their shooter could have killed her, but he didn’t. He didn’t have to kill Sarosh, but he did. What was the connection? How did the Dominion fit in? Was he still out there? Would he kill Ko’Manir too? Worst of all, she couldn’t think of a damn thing she could do to prevent it. The khajiits running the caravan had found no one, and no one had come into the camp.

The ride on to Kvatch was slow, and Ra’Jirra insisted that Ko’Manir ride between her and one of the camels all the way. That meant a very slow ride with no chance of moving ahead and taking a break. But they reached Kvatch in the afternoon and Ra’Jirra walked with Ko’Manir into the city. No one stopped them, and she saw no one particularly interested in them. The HMSS agent that Sarosh had planned to meet was probably looking for him, not two khajiits. She hoped he’d at least told the agent who he was bringing. The service was notorious for only giving information on a Need-To-Know basis, and this might be one of those times.

Fortunately, it turned out the Agent had indeed been informed. Less than an hour after they’d sat themselves on a bench in the central park of the city, an Imperial approached them and sat down beside Ra’Jirra.

“You Ra’Jirra?”

“I am. We… lost a man.”

“Sarosh. Yes, I know. I tried to find him at the caravan. The khajiits told me something about it, but what they told me didn’t make sense. A ranged weapon without an arrow, bolt or even a stone?”

“Look, this isn’t the best place to talk. Perhaps…”

“Oh! I’m sorry. The name’s Faelian. Come with me, I’ve got dinner made. I live in a house just a little way farther into the city.”

The two stood and followed Faelian, happy to have a real dinner for a change after the meager food they’d eaten with the caravan.

The house Faelian took them to was small, but clean, in an older part of the city - a single man’s house.

“No family?” Ra’Jirra asked as she sat at the table with Ko’Manir while Faelian began preparations in the kitchen.

“Family? Oh, you mean here. No. No family,” he said has he brought out three glasses of wine.

“Here, a little something to get you started,” he said and went back into the kitchen.

“Ew. Bitter,” Ko’Manir said to Ra’Jirra after tasting the wine.

“Faelian, I think the wine may have turned,” Ra’Jirra called to the kitchen and tasted her own.

“Well, it does taste a bit weird, but I wouldn’t call it bitter,” Ra’Jirra said turning back to Ko’Manir. But Ko’Manir was just staring at her, eyes wide.

“Ko’Manir? Are you alright?”

Her partner didn’t move. She sat bolt upright, staring at Ra’Jirra.

“Ko?!” Ra’Jirra started to get up, but found she couldn’t move her arms or legs.

The Imperial named Faelian walked back into the room, rope in one hand, a wicked looking knife in the other. It was not a kitchen knife.

“Faelian?”

“Yes, Ra’Jirra. I am Faelian. But let’s let Romanov sleep, shall we?

He stepped to the khajiit and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?!”

“In a moment. Ra’Jirra. Your paralysis will wear off in just a few minutes. Then I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But first…”

He began wrapping the rope tightly around her torso and the back of the chair. When he was satisfied she was trussed beyond escape, he severed the end of the rope with his knife. Ra’Jirra just watched him closely, but she was thinking all the while.

“Firstly,” he said, dropping the knife point-first into the table. She jumped a little at the sound. “I don’t think I’m who you were expecting. In fact,” he said, stepping to a closet nearby. “I think this is who you were looking for.”

The body of a man lay within it, his neck slit. Faelian didn’t leave the door open long.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“A good question. A damn good question. You see, I’m going to kill you when I’m done. Both you and your friend. So why explain all this to you first? It’s stupid, but it’s part of my contract. The party that hired me demands I explain everything to you first. My guess is that you pissed someone off, Ra’Jirra. Pissed someone very important off, and that someone doesn’t just want you killed. Hell, I could have done that days ago in that alley! No, they want you crushed first.”

“The alley. You’re the Dominion man. You killed my partner,” Ra’Jirra hissed.

“Oh, yes. That was me. Me and my friend. Would you like to meet my friend? Give me a minute,” and he stepped out of sight into another room.

Ra’Jirra tried working her hands and feet. They were tingling, a good sign, but she still couldn’t properly work them. He came back in, carrying what looked like a crossbow, yet there was no bow. Instead it was fitted with a long tube of metal beyond the stock.

“Say hello to my long friend,” he said, and pointed the business end directly at her head. He shoved it inside her ear, pushing her head to the side.

“A long gun,” she said. “I get it.”

He pulled it back, smiling. “Not quite. A rifle, they call it. It’s not just a bigger version of your little PUSS. The Dominion modelled it after your prototype, but they improved on it significantly. Inside the tube it has spiral grooves that set the bullet to spinning when it’s shot. That spin keeps the shot true, when wielded by someone with accurate aim. Me!”

“Why?” Ra’Jirra asked, though it was obvious he was going to tell her anyway. But the longer she played along, the more likely the paralysis would wear off.

“All for you, Ra’Jirra. All for you. You were supposed to be arrested for that. An international incident. We would have made sure you got out, mind you, but that would be the first blemish on your reputation. But somehow you avoided that. How did you manage that, Ra’Jirra? Just curious.”

“I happened to have met Inspector Trudal. There was, evidence that they hadn’t considered.”

“Ah. Dumb luck. That is the bane of any well conceived plan, you know. There’s always the factor of dumb luck that can’t be anticipated. The Dominion likes to plan things, but they never plan for that. Ah well, so it goes.”

“You’re… not a Dominion agent, are you?”

“Me? Hell no. I’m just an assassin.”

“What about her?” Ra’Jirra asked, indicating Ko’Manir. “How does she fit into the Dominion’s plans?”

“Oh, her? Oh, that’s a good one! You better sit down for this… oh, that’s right, you already are,” he said, pulling a chair back, spinning it around and straddling it backwards.

He was obviously enjoying this far too much, but time was her friend. Ra’Jirra was able to extend her claws and began rubbing the rope against them gently.

“First shock for you… she’s still working for Hammerfell. She was going to infiltrate your vaunted HMSS and send them back all she could on your methods. A mole in your own organization.”

Ra’Jirra nodded. It did make sense. “But what about the device? Surely they don’t want to lose that?”

“Old technology. They’ve already switched to a newer one. You can read all their old mail, good luck with that - they’ve already planned for it. It would do you no good.”

“But… if that’s all true, why did she…”

“Fuck you? Ah, that’s the beauty of it all, and where the Dominion gets involved. She really is fascinated by you. You’ve been her sole field of study for months. I think she really likes you, as an adversary. But the Dominion needed her to do something special. They passed the plan onto her superiors, who passed it on to her. You were drugged, Ra’Jirra. She slipped you a drug as powerful as these I slipped into your wine, but with a different effect.”

With that, he pulled out an odd scroll and held it before her. Her eyes went wide when she saw the pictures on the scroll. And it went on and on as he rolled it past her. Everything. Some things she didn’t even remember doing.

“Goddammit Faelian, I get it already. Did you get your rocks off to us? Put it away.”

“Me? No. My boss maybe did. I get off when I kill.”

“So you’ve got pictures of Ko’Manir and me. What’s the point?”

“The scroll will be released after your death. Your suicide, after you murder Ko’Manir specifically. They’ll find the scroll. She was blackmailing you with it, and you killed her, then took your own life. Such deviancy as what’s on this scroll… it could only end in madness.”

“Jeeze Faelian, it’s not that bad!”

“Of course not. But among some more conservative people it will be. And that’s the reason. After you’re gone, even the name of ‘Ra’Jirra’ will be a laughing stock, an embarrassment to the HMSS and to Elsweyr. The Mane will disavow your legacy. You will be forgotten, Ra’Jirra, as soon as the bad jokes stop.”

Ra’Jirra saw it now. Someone really had it in for her! Apparently that someone thought she gave a shit about her ‘legacy’. But it was time to try her gamble. She wasn’t going to get out of these ropes in time.

“Faelian… how much are they paying you?”

The eyes that were scanning the scroll with a lewd expression suddenly turned serious and shot to hers.

“Why?”

“Elsweyr will pay you more.”

“Ha! More than the fucking Dominion?! Not fucking likely!”

“How much would it take for you let us go? Or at least just me?”

“And screw the Dominion? Oh, that would take a lot, cat. A hell of a lot.”

“I have a hell of a lot.”

For the second time their eyes locked. “How much?”

“Thousands. In my briefcase over there.”

She nodded where she’d left it. Gears started turning in his head. She could practically see them. Golden gears.

“What’s to keep me from just taking it then?”

“The lock. Unbreakable. They tell me that only with specific types of force could you ever get that thing open.”

“How many thousands?”

“They started me with ten thousand. Rihad is cheap and I didn’t gamble that much. There’s got to be at least 7000 left.”

“Now he’s considering it,” she thought. “He wants it, bad. But he won’t let me go, and he sure as hell isn’t going to flip on the Dominion. How can he get both?”

“I need to see it first,” he said. “If you’ve really got 7000 in there, I’ll join your HMSS. But I want a thousand per hit.”

“Consider it done,” Ra’Jirra said, knowing full well he was lying.

The assassin brought the briefcase over. “What’s the combination?”

“Cat, Snake, Snake.”

Chapter 11 of 12

In the end, it turned out Queue was a off a little bit. It wasn’t instantaneous, but it was effective. In fact, he had time to utter one world before he slumped to the floor.

“NO!”

It took another 10 minutes before Ra’Jirra managed to free herself, and another 10 before Ko’Manir came around.

“Come on,” Ra’Jirra said, rousing her. “We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t think there’s any more, but we can’t be sure. Let’s get back to the caravan and get our horses.”

She grabbed the briefcase and wrapped the rifle up in blanket before leaving the house. They hurried out of town and Ra’Jirra paid the horses’ owner in gold before they were off. She told Ko’Manir as much as she dared without revealing what she now knew about her.

They were stopped at the border, but waived on through before night fell. They kept riding - only stopping to rest the horses. Finally they arrived in the Elsweyr city of Riverhold, where they stabled the horses and retired in a relatively upscale hotel, though it couldn’t hold a candle to the Pendant. Labor wasn’t cheap enough in Elsweyr to have people manning the doors.

Ra’Jirra looked at the single bed and back to Ko’Manir.

“Want to make another mistake?”

“Only if we can take a bath first. I’m dusty and I stink of horse.”

“No private baths here, but I did see a hot tub in the back.”

Ko’Manir moaned, “Damn. I don’t have any swimwear. You got anything? That would be perfect.”

Ra’Jirra just smiled. “You’re in Elsweyr now, Ko. The bad news is you’d better stop using the first person pronoun when you’re speaking Common. Good news is you’ll find some standards are a little more relaxed here than Hammerfell. Bring a couple towels and we should be good.”

At last Ra’Jirra lowered herself into the hot tub. It was late and there was no one around, but the manager assured them it would be okay. There were certain advantages of always being at least somewhat dressed in fur.

“Oh, that feels good.” she said. “I never knew riding a horse could be so tiring!”

Ko’Manir just sighed in agreement

“Ra’Jirra… before we make another ‘mistake’, I think there’s something I have to tell you.”

Ra’Jirra shook her head. “It can wait till the morning.”

“No,” Ko’Manir insisted. “I don’t think it can.”

Ra’Jirra rose and waded over to Ko’Manir and kissed her in the khajiit manner. “Ko,” she whispered. “It can wait.”

Though perhaps less adventurous than their night at the hotel, nonetheless Ra’Jirra enjoyed every minute of it - even if their thighs were exhausted by the heavy riding through the day. They fell to sleep in each other’s arms, and Ra’Jirra made sure there was no talk of assassins, politics or allegiances that night. All that could wait for the morning.

Ra’Jirra awoke to a knock at the door. She turned to Ko’Manir who cracked a single eye. “You order anything?”

“Not me.”

Ra’Jirra got up and draped a towel around herself. “Who is it?”

“Breakfast,” came a voice from the other side and she peered out the little hole to see a khajiit in a maid’s outfit with a covered dish.

She opened the door and the maid set the dish on the table, revealing a fine breakfast of eggs and ham.

“Complementary,” she said and turned to go. Ko’Manir looked at the food as if she was ravished.

“Wait,” Ra’Jirra said as the maid reached the door. Don’t I know you?”

“I doubt it,” the maid said, and immediately Ra’Jirra shouted, “First person singular! Ko’Manir! She’s an agent!”

The maid spun around and slammed the door closed with her tail, brandishing a knife made of Dwemer metal from a special holder in her belt. The poison practically smoked from it as she attacked Ra’Jirra with full and unexpected fury.

Ra’Jirra caught her hand with both of her own, but the agent switched the knife to the other hand quickly and continued her attack. Ra’ Jirra managed to shove it aside at the last second, but it was quickly coming around again. Ra’Jirra lashed out with her legs and sent the maid flying, the pale face coming into full view as her maids cap flew off.

“La’Dasha!” Ra’Jirra said, remembering where she’d seen her before, but the khajiit was readying the poison blade to throw it and Ra’Jirra realized that unless she managed to duck it completely, she was likely dead. But there was no room. They were too close.

The thunder came and La’Dasha fell back, the knife stabbing her leg as if for a coup-de-grace. The shot had been wide and only left a graze on her shoulder, but the khajiit stared at the knife upended into her thigh.

She looked at Ra’Jirra as the life left her quickly. “You.”

“You’re a dead woman, La’Dasha. Ra’Jirra said, taking the gun from Ko’Manir. “Is there anything you want to tell me before you go?”

The khajiit smiled weakly. “I failed,” she said, breathing out slowly. “But I’m still prettier than you.”

And then her eyes closed and she didn’t inhale again.

The manager and two other employees came rushing into the room, shoving the lifeless body away from the door in their haste. Ra’Jirra explained as best she could, but they insisted on calling in the local police. They arrived a short time later, but the the evidence of the poison knife, along with its ichor-laden belt holder was too convincing for any argument and they were released before the day had gotten late.

They sat outside the hotel on a little patio in rocking chairs side-by-side, while their horses were rounded up from the stable after they were released.

“So,” Ko’Manir said, turning to Ra’JIrra. “On to Torval?”

“For me, yes. But I don’t think so for you. Unless you really have parents in Corinthe.”

“Of course…”

“Sorry, Ko, but it’s time to cut the shit. That guy back in Kvatch told me a lot more than I let on… about you.”

“Did he?” Ko’Manir asked. Ra’Jirra could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Can I salvage anothing from this? How much does she know?”

“Relax Ko. You’re free to go back to Hammerfell. Hell, you can take your damned device with you for all I care. I know it’s worthless now. You’d planned this well in advance and already have all your agents using new codes.”

Ko’Manir looked as if she was about to protest, but then thought better of it.

“Wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s got a failsafe. A crucial part will have melted by now. You know? And you’re letting me go?!”

“How much was true, Ko?”, Ra’Jirra asked, ignoring the question.

“Not much,” she admitted. “Though I have been following your adventures. I do admire you as much as I said. The rest… Sorry.”

“That first night…”

“I spiked your drink. It’s quite effective on khajiits. Makes us horny as hell.”

“Dammit Ko. What about last night? Was that for real?”

“That was for real. Actually, the first night was too. I didn’t need any spiked drink.”

“I suppose I should take that as a complement?”

“Take it any way you want. But i guess in the end, nothing good came out of this whole affair.”

Ra’Jirra smiled darkly. “Nothing worth lives, no, but… I still have something to take back with me. I have a friend. A long friend. I think I know someone who would be very interested in it.”

Chapter 12 of 12 (Epilogue)

“No, you made the right choice,” Em said. “Like you’ve said before, we may be working with Hammerfell someday. I doubt she would yield much useful information without torture anyway.”

“And we don’t do that… right?”

“Not anymore, more’s the pity,” Em said and Ra’Jirra shot him a look. “Oh of course not. We’re civilized. Mostly.”

“So where’s Queue?”

“Oh, he was going to be here, but that rifle has caused quite a stir down at the technology lab. They’re working on a steel model now.”

“Good. I have a feeling that is a lot more important than the decryption gadget would have proved anyway.”

“I agree. So, ready for your next assignment?”

Ra’Jirra shook her head. “I need at least a week off. I’ve got to head to Skingrad.”

“Oh. They’ve already been notified of course.”

“Of course. But they haven’t talked to me about him yet. They need to know everything.”

“Everything?”

“Em, they lost their husband and father. They deserve to know.”

“Okay. We offered them a pension, but the wife refused it.”

“I’ll talk to her. She’s probably none to happy with the HMSS right now.”

“Do that, Ra’Jirra.”

A few hours later and Ra’JIrra had packed for travel and was out of town again, riding Arrow northbound.

*****************************

Number 1 was in a rage.

“And you haven’t even heard from her, Number 5?”

“Not since she left Hammerfell. But the device only works at certain precise locations.”

“But Ra’Jirra is alive. If she does turn up, turn her down!”

“We may do that.”

“What?”

A knock came at the door.

“DAMMIT, I’m in a MEETING!”

A figure walked through the door. Not the secretary.

“Number 2?” said Number 1, standing in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the Imperial City.”

“Change of plans. I got wind of this Ra’Jirra affair. I hurried back here in all haste.”

“Ha! You came for nothing. She’s back in Elsweyr. La’Dasha failed.”

Number 5 approached the desk on the right. Number 2 on the left.

“I heard that too. We lost quite a lot of assets over this. La’Dasha only one of them. And she was our best field chief. Hammerfell is not happy with us either. It seems they think they were set up and that we killed one of their own men. Is that so?”

“Yes. It was supposed to be a frame up. Ra’Jirra and the other agent for HMSS should have been arrested, but for some reason the local chief of security didn’t buy it.”

“And, is it true that our prototype rifle was used? And lost?”

“Yes,” Number 1 said, stepping back as Number 2 approached uncomfortably close.

“That’s an awful lot of assets to use to bring down one khajiit agent, don’t you think?”

“I deemed it necessary. I am Number 1. Don’t you forget your place, Number 2.”

“There are those who believe this may have been a personal vendetta, Number 1. They say you have not been a model of Altmer dispassionate reasoning on this matter.”

“Who says that?! Look, I have reason to hate this particular agent, it’s true. But if this had worked as intended, she would be out of the picture and Hammerfell would be at war with Elsweyr!”

“Earlier you made a mistake, I’m afraid. You referred to my colleague here as Number 5.”

Number 1 looked at the man known formerly as Number 5.

“Yes? What of it?”

“He is now Number 4.”

The man formerly known as Number 1’s eyes opened wide. “But…”

“You asked who said these things about you… the answer is, a majority.”

Number 4 pressed the button under the desktop. A magical energy field leapt to a spring loaded lever and the door opened instantly. The Altmer formerly known as Number 1 fell through without a sound. Until he hit the bottom. At that point, he began making quite a bit of noise indeed. Enough to rouse some other residents of the place he now occupied.

A glass cover swept over the gaping hole in the floor and the two Altmer watched for a moment. Then Number 1 pushed another button and a tile took it’s place, covering the viewing portal.

“A distasteful display. Do me a favor, Number 4. Leave the trap door, but please remove the glass. I’ve no interest in watching such barbaric scenes.”

“I will have it done right away.”

Number one sat in the chair, but stood again.

“And pray, get me a smaller chair. This thing would fit a pig.”