The next days were a whirlwind of activity around the palace. For her part, Ra’Jirra mostly just tried to stay out of the way. She spent a lot of time with the other concubine princesses and found them to be significantly more industrious than her imaginings of a bunch of beautiful khajiits laying about amidst pillows, bathing and snacking on exotic foods all day.

In fact, most of them had been assigned administrative duties and were quite a bit more important in the running of the countries’ major departments than she would ever have believed. At the behest of Em, Ra’Jirra herself had been tasked with assisting the local security forces and police, under the direction of the head of the Mane’s local security.

She’d been surprised when she found out that the head of it was, in fact, another of the Mane’s concubines - an older khajiit woman called Lady Ree. In the early days of her tenure under Lady Ree, Ra’Jirra found herself mainly preoccupied with dashing messages back and forth from the bayside port’s security detail to the palace, but as the days counted down to the big meeting, she found herself more and more providing her own suggestions on questions of security - both the security of the Mane and the palace where the meeting would take place, but also of the emissaries’ planned housing outside the palace grounds.

As much as she detested the Dominion, she still had to help provide for their security amidst the bustling throng in the city. Her knowledge of magic, however, was limited and she was pleased to have been given some training in warding by some trusted magic users who helped her to erect what magical protections they could around both the Dominion’s embassy and the hastily-commandeered house that would serve as the Histess’ dwelling should that mysterious person arrive as the Dominion claimed.

At last the day arrived when the contingents from the Altmer and the Argonians were expected, though the actual meeting was still two days away. As it happened, she was on hand when the Dominion ship was spotted sailing up the bay towards the city. She frowned at the impressive, golden and mast-less galleon which was obviously propelled by magical means in a showy and grand entrance.

She breathed a deep sigh of resignation and joined the delegation assigned to greet Number One and his retinue. The ship made a grand show in the Torval harbor as it sailed past the dock and wheeled about, then began to move directly sideways towards the dock, a move that was unnervingly unnatural for such a vessel.

When it finally arrived at the dock and ropes were thrown, they fell into the water uncaught as haughty Altmer sailors eschewed the traditional means of anchorage and a large walkway emerged of its own accord, complete with golden handrails and steps, from which the Altmer delegates descended.

Neither the Mane, nor Devline, his figurehead, would meet with these directly until the official meeting, but his prime concubine, Isdra, was the first to greet them as they arrived. Ra’Jirra stood nearby in the greeting line, dressed in the Raba as tradition dictated. She saw the tall, thin figure of Number One emerge from the ship and step down haughtily. He spied her and smiled with a nearly imperceptible nod before greeting the prime concubine and the other khajiit dignitaries.

Her blood boiled, but she kept her cool externally - which wasn’t hard considering that Isdra had convinced her to leave the underwear behind this time. Yet when Number One finally greeted her, she found herself unable to sheath her claws and knew her tail was lashing uncontrollably and furiously behind her.

“Ra’Jirra,” he said calmly, and she offered her hand reluctantly. He took it, not flinching from the sharp nails. She longed to extend the too-cool smile up his cheeks and down his neck with them as he ritually kissed the back of her hand.

“The naked spy is more beautiful than I’d supposed! But, like the rose, the most beautiful creatures always have their spikes. Have you become the Mane’s concubine then? I had heard as much, but somehow I couldn’t imagine you… thus.”

“Welcome to Elsweyr, Number One of the Dominion,” she said, dutifully ignoring his pleasantries. “We have an escort that will take you to your embassy. The meeting will begin the day after tomorrow. Until then, you are free to visit the city. However, we do require that you be escorted by a security detail that will be available outside whenever you might feel the need.”

“So formal! Will you be a member of that detail?”

“I sincerely hope not,” Ra’Jirra said calmly and politely. “I might not be able to guarantee your personal safety. There are those who might wish ill of you here.”

“Oh? Then I should be cautious I suppose,” he said with a wry smile.

“Like me,” she said, continuing her statement as politely as she could muster.

The smile disappeared, but before he could come up with another witty response, she went on.

“Is the Histess with you?”

“No. She will be arriving shortly though… in her own… mode. I believe her delegation is no more than an hour behind us.”

Ra’Jirra nodded as Number One passed on to greet the next person in line. For her part, she duly nodded and extended her hand to the rest of the Altmer until they had departed, their baggage having been transported to their embassy ahead of them.

When they had gone, Ra’Jirra issued a command to a runner to deliver a message to the head of the security force assigned to the Argonians that they should expect them to arrive shortly. Then she was informed that Isdra wanted to speak with her, and she found the Mane’s prime concubine nearby.

“You wanted me?”

“Oh, Ra’Jirra! Yes indeed. I understand the Argonians and the Histess are due shortly. You are nearly the only person in the palace that has actually been to the Black Marsh, and I understand you speak Jel.”

“Not well, I’m afraid. But yes. Passably.”

On His Mane's Secret Service
Chapter 8

“I wonder if you might know of a proper formal greeting I might give in Jel? I’ve no idea what to expect of this Histess, but most people do like to hear others speak in their native tongue. I should have thought of this before now obviously.”

“Certainly!” Ra’Jirra smiled, happy to be able to assist. While Isdra might not exactly be a Queen, functionally she was as close as the khajiits had to one, so Ra’Jirra was delighted to give her a crash course in Jel.

She was just finishing that, as they walked to the next pier where the Argonian ship would dock, when a shout was heard of a new ship having been spotted. They all turned to look, but were confused by exactly what it was they were seeing traveling up the bay and towards the dock.

By all appearances, it was a tree, grown horizontal in the water, yet it was obvious that it had been groomed for such use. It had in no way been cut, but was a living specimen that looked as healthy as any tree on land. The limbs sprouted from only one side of the enormous, hollow trunk however, and there was no clear “top” or “bottom” of the thing, the roots apparently extending under the water line rather than from any “bottom”.

Under what power of propulsion it moved, she couldn’t guess until it had come much closer. Then she realized that the leaves of the tree itself shifted purposefully - if slowly - to catch the breeze and move the thing gracefully towards the dock. However, she could see no Captain nor other means of steering. It was as if the ship itself knew where to go.

When finally it came to a halt near the end of the dock, she watched in fascination as one long branch moved of its own accord down deep into the water, serving as its own anchor when it had touched the bottom far below. While this was happening, another large, flattened branch slowly lowered itself until it came to rest at the end of the dock and served as a gangway.

But unlike the the Altmer ship and Number One’s large retinue, only three passengers disembarked from the amazing tree-ship. All three were female, as styled by the Argonian’s own reckoning of gender, but it was clear which was the fabled Histess. The close-fitting clothing worn by the other two seemed to be made up entirely of vines, intertwined closely and woven clearly in imitation of a elderly tree with its myriad epiphytic companions.

As for the Histess herself who departed the tree-ship last, she was unmistakable. On her head she wore a wreath of sorts, green and apparently very much alive with verdant tiny leaves that sparkled almost like emeralds on her head. Below, she wore what appeared to be a thin layer of moss that continued from her feet to her shoulders and down her arms, yet the moss did not cover her breasts nor between her legs. Besides the brown of the moss and the green of her wreath-crown, the Argonian herself was a muted orange color, but her belly scales were of a green that matched her natural crown. Overall, though regal, her face looked kind and surprisingly young for what Ra’Jirra had supposed - likely little older than herself.

On anyone else, the whole effect might have seemed like a bikini in reverse and been laughable - but the Argonian held herself with such regality that it didn’t even enter Ra’Jirra’s mind. This was a person the likes of which Ra’Jirra had never encountered before, and she found herself wanting to kneel in her presence as she stepped from the limb onto the dock.

Ra’Jirra stood in awe of the Histess, for reasons she couldn’t quite define, but she saw Isdra step forward and recite the greeting she had been taught so recently. Yet the Histess only glanced at her, nodded, then walked on directly towards Ra’Jirra, the large orange eyes fixed apparently directly at her. Ra’Jirra felt somehow unworthy to continue looking directly at the Argonian, and found herself instead looking at the moss-covered Argonian’s feet when the Histess stopped directly in front of her.

“You are her,” the Histess said enigmatically. It was not a question, just a statement.

Ra’Jirra was unable to respond.

“Look at me, khajiit-mother. What is your name?”

As if freed from her own self-imposed stasis, Ra’Jirra looked up at the Histess. It came as a small surprise that, in fact, the Histess was not much taller than herself. Somehow she had seemed so at first. The large orange reptilian eyes that looked into hers now seemed somehow more mortal and less… godlike.

“I am Ra’Jirra, Histess,” she said, not sure what etiquette was proper in this situation at first. But the answer came to her in a flash somehow. She knelt on one knee before standing again. It… felt right.

“She honors you in the Argonian way!” said one of the Histess’ partners, obviously surprised herself.

“Thank you, Ra’Jirra. But please, don’t call me Histess. I had a name before the Hist honored me with… all this. I know you mean well, but I think we may get to know each other much better in the next few days, khajiit-mother, and that honorific doesn’t seem right.”

“Why do you call me khajiit-mother? I’ve never even been pregnant!”

“No?” said the Histess, and knelt in front of Ra’Jirra, pressing the side of her head to Ra’Jirra’s lower abdomen, surprising Ra’Jirra with her instant familiarity.

“Oh!” said the Histess, embracing Ra’Jirra with strong scaled hands around her back and pulling what passed for her ear even further against Ra’Jirra’s womb. Ra’Jirra let out a little squeal as the Histess lowered her ear even farther into regions perilously close to being too personal to allow, Raba or no Raba! Fortunately the Histess desisted before Ra’Jirra had a chance to protest, and stood again before her.

“Oh, that is a shame,” said the Histess. “Still, you have been mated at least. Your day will come, khajiit-mother. Your tides have just not yet matched his, Ra’Jirra. The Hist is not wrong in such things. Would you accompany me? We have much to discuss!”

Ra’Jirra shot a look to Isdra. This was not going as expected at all!

Isdra shrugged. “Go ahead, I guess!”

Ra’Jirra looked back to the odd Argonian. “Well, I suppose I can go with you, Histess.”

“Good!” said the Histess happily. “Very good!”

Ra’Jirra fell in beside the Histess and began to walk alongside her. She was surprised when the cool scaled hand took hers, but somehow it felt right. As much as she had begun in awe of this strange creature, she was rapidly beginning to like her.

“Now then, please stop calling me Histess. Though the title is correct, my friends don’t call me that. My name is Quill-Weave, and you will be my friend while I’m here, khajiit-mother Ra’Jirra.