FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 2

Kala was fairly certain he could not throw up while under the powerful drain effect, but lying on his side would ensure he did not choke if she was wrong. Explaining that had not seemed productive even to her. She went to get the cup and bottle for washing, checked to make sure he was breathing calmly, and went on about the day's activities.

She spent the next two days cooking the guar meat until it fell apart and rendering it into something like pemmican, mixed up with berries to enhance the flavor. She made a half-dozen potions of enhanced charisma and sent Bala to trade them to Ra'virr for a shirt and pants that would fit a tall, skinny Khajiit. He did not cheat her. He would want her business again in the future. She folded them up and laid them on the night stand next to Ra'kesh.

The first night she checked on him before she turned in. Then she went to check on her laundry hamper. She was folding up clothes to put in her dresser when she noticed that something seemed off about the top of it.

Two of the rings were missing from the steel ring-dish with the carven finger sticking up in the middle. She frowned, touching the remaining ones. They looked very much alike, but the magical signature of each would tell its effect to her. Water Walking, Water Breathing, a minor Shock effect, Light... What in the world would he want with a ten-second Slowfall and an Almsivi Intervention? _Well, if it makes him feel safer, I suppose he can keep them. _She shrugged and went to bed.

The second day she sent out laundry to be done.

The morning of the third day she went to check if the Khajiit was still sleeping.

Ra'kesh's eyes fluttered open as he slowly emerged from his deep, dreamless sleep. He stared into darkness for a while, waiting for his eyes to adjust and wondering where he was. It all came back soon enough, along with a throbbing ache in the shoulder he was laying on.

Ra'kesh swung his legs out of bed and sat up stiffly. He rolled his painfully dry tongue on the roof of his mouth and grimaced at the taste. Just as he was contemplating whether to lay back down or get a drink of water, he heard movement, and turned to see Kala in the doorway.

"Ra'kesh slept through night to morning?" he asked hoarsely, rubbing the back of his neck.

She was wearing a different robe than the first one he had seen. This one was a dark green, worn around the hems.

"You went to sleep on Morndas," she said. "Today is the morning of Turdas. Do you feel like eating? I'm frying kwama eggs. Oh, and some other clothes are on the night stand. My brother's really don't fit you."

Ra'kesh rubbed his face, not really sure he had heard correctly. He looked up at the clothes, and again felt horrible for all Kala had done for him.

"Many thanks, Mistress. Ra'kesh will come down soon."

She blinked a couple of times. Her mouth opened and then shut. Then she said hoarsely,

"Take whatever time you need," and turned to rapidly head downstairs. A green complexion does not show a blush as easily. She was grateful.

How do you live with yourself after that? Can you ever face a freedwoman again knowing that a slave has thanked you? And you know he'll take advantage now that he knows he can get to you that way, damn it all to Oblivion.

Damn, damn, damn.

She hastily set about hauling out the frying pan and cracking a pair of enormous eggs into a dram of kwama oil. The knapsacks in the corner were almost full now, with potions, dried food, picks and brushes, water skins, bedrolls tied onto the outside, dry torches threaded through the straps. The fragrance of eggs cooking wafted through the house as she poured a big glass of water for each of them and set out the plates, one at the dining table, one at the alchemy table in the corner.

Ra'kesh wondered briefly if he offended Kala somehow; she seemed flustered. But he was too groggy to think on it for very long. He stiffly dressed himself in the new clothes, transferring the stolen goods into his pockets and putting away the old clothes in the dresser. Then he visited the bathroom and drank directly from the pump for what felt like several minutes straight.

As he descended the stairs, Ra'kesh was surprised to find that the scent of frying Kwama eggs elicited a watering mouth and rumbling stomach rather than the expected revulsion. He stood near the bottom of the stairs and scanned the room, noticing the travel equipment. It frightened him a little; he'd wasted three days just sleeping. He had to find time between now and the trip to somehow get into town and sell off Kala's jewelry.

She glanced up as he came downstairs, reasserting facial impassivity with an effort as she poked at the eggs. She followed his look at the knapsacks, then looked at them again thoughtfully. It was possible he wouldn't even be able to lift one without fortification. Well, she had potions for that. She just didn't have enough hands to carry all of the tools and scrolls.

Still, she did have a way to see if he could handle walking yet.

"Here, you sit here, I prefer my alchemy table anyway," she said briskly, as she served scrambled kwama eggs onto the plates. "I need more bittergreen. We'll go and try to find some today." She carried her own plate and fork over to the alchemy corner to tuck in. She was a neat eater, but certainly not apt to leave food on her plate.

Ra'kesh positioned the chair so that he would face the alchemy table while he ate, and took his seat.

"Ra'kesh does not mean to pry, but it is obvious Mistress once had large family. Why do these people not help with big trip?" he asked carefully. He took one bite of egg, and for once, food actually tasted like food. He started shoveling egg into his mouth before he remembered that proper folks had to put on airs at all time, even while they ate. He wondered if the rules of etiquette applied to slaves.

She scooted the chair around to face him, holding the plate up. Apparently fancy etiquette was not a high priority for Kala, at least.

"Oh, I still do. My parents live on their estate in Suran. One of my brothers does, too. The other has his own forge now. My parents would probably give me money if I asked, but they would be disappointed. They're already a bit disappointed that I went into magery instead of becoming a smith or a warrior. Father was a Legionnaire when he was a young man. Er... don't make yourself sick?"

She averted her eyes from the shoveling. Maybe it will stay down. That would be a good first step.

Ra'kesh did slow his eating, and noisily gulped his water to wash it down.

"Nonsense, Ra'kesh is strong." He waved his hand at her. He noticed that his grip was weak, but it was hard to say whether this was still withdrawal or simply from not eating for three days straight.

"Smith, warrior, both honorable professions. Ra'kesh agrees with parents! But if child has natural talent in magic, this must be nurtured. If the Gods see fit to bestow gifts, must not waste." He finished the rest of his eggs, and resisted a strong urge to lick the plate clean. Maybe when her back was turned...

"That's charitable of you." She was still working on hers, gazing at the distorted green image out the window. "What did you do before you were sold, anyway? I know that you're not 19 and you obviously aren't a farmer."

Ra'kesh stared at his plate for a moment, wondering what to tell. He stood and carried his plate and utensils to the sink, and spoke with his back turned as he washed.

"Parents and siblings die when Ra'kesh young, maybe 15. Dunmer slavers taking young ones; they kill if families give too much trouble. So Ra'kesh become pirate, slit many Dunmer throats." He turned to Kala and grinned when he said this, drawing his finger across his neck. "But Ra'kesh not on sea in many years. Doing work here and there, try to get coin to go home to Alabaster. Ra'kesh visits friend at wrong time, friend is arrested and poor Ra'kesh gets blamed too. Dunmer magistrate blame all Khajiit and send to slave pen, guilt or innocence does not matter." His tone had been very lighthearted at the start, but a theatrical level of anger crept into his voice when he spoke of his arrest.

He placed the earthenware on the counter to dry, and returned to his seat.

"Ra'kesh does not suppose Mistress has flin?"

She turned to look when he moved, listening without interruption. Then she shook her head as she got up to go over and wash up her own plate.

"I'm afraid not," she said over her shoulder. She still wore her black hair in a short, fat braid. "It's expensive stuff. I'd have to trade across probably ten of my homemades to get one bottle of it from Ra'virr, and there've just been other things that I needed more. So where did the skooma enter that story?"

Ra'kesh shifted about in his seat.

"Friend was selling skooma. Of course, Ra'kesh may partake now and again- to Khajiit, moon sugar is very sacred thing, and skooma is one form of this. No different from matze, sujamma, and other such drinks Dunmer love. Religious persecution, that is all."

"You know, my parents' housekeeper is a very religious woman. Always swearing by Baan Dar, Jode and Jone. She's never mentioned skooma as a ceremonial observance." She dried the pan carefully, then bent to put it away, clattering about the things in the cupboard. "In fact, inasmuch as she lost her sister to it, she was particularly opposed to its use in that context. So I think you are shoveling muck, Ra'kesh."

Ra'kesh flicked his tail in agitation. He couldn't be a smart-ass after hearing that an acquaintance had died.

"Yes, that may be true. But Khajiit religion is not highly organized like other races have. It is very personal thing. And Dunmer are still bastards who have it in for Khajiit. Dunmer hate Orc too, Mistress must know this." He stood, and walked around the perimeter of the room, examining the clutter on the shelves. He decided to change the subject.

"Not all Dunmer, but yes, there are many." She looked at that tail - useful, that, even for someone as obtuse as she felt herself to be - and judged it was better to let it go.

There was more that she could have said. Even Dra'viji had ceased to care for Zharra - no deserved honorifics for her, no dra', no daro', not even the morally unflattering but at least attractive la' in the end. She had tried at first, they had all tried at first. Father had found jobs for her around the estate, because Dra'viji begged, and nobody could say no to Dra'viji. Mother had slipped the housekeeper extra money, knowing it would go to her sister. Even her brothers had tried to be kind to the woman. But it went on for years, and she never stayed clean, and in the end she would lie, steal, even threaten violence in order to get money for skooma. There was no pitying her after she had left claw-marks on her sister when she was caught stealing again. When she was finally found dead in the inn at Suran surrounded by empty bottles, it was a relief to everyone who knew her. It was awful to think it, and no one had said it aloud, but it was the truth.

Perhaps that was why she had gravitated to this particular slave, the thought that he deserved it in some way because he was the same kind of person Zharra had been.

It still is not true. A man should be free. We would not let even Zharra be sold for thirty-five gold to some stranger from Balmora.

She realized she had not said anything for several seconds, staring into space, and shook her head, going over to get her staff from the corner and a couple of canvas bags from under the kitchen cupboard.

"So, Ra'kesh collecting plants today? Quite a demotion from former station in life," he said this in mock disappointment, indicating that he did not really care.

"Well, you will share that humble chore with me, if it's any consolation to you." Kala handed a bag to Ra'kesh. "I need spore pods and marshmerrow, too, but they're scarcer in this climate. Come on."

She headed out the front door, waiting for the Khajiit to follow, and then waved her hand above the handle as it closed. It clicked twice as it locked.

Ra'kesh accepted the bag and followed Kala out, once again appreciating the fresh air. He watched Kala's magic trick with the door from the corner of his eye, filing that information away for later. Magnus was already climbing to his throne in the apex of the sky, and a warm breeze ruffled Ra'kesh's mane.

He shuffled his hands around awkwardly, clasping his hands behind his back and then dropping them to his sides. There was no point in trying to conceal the bracers, Kala's neighbors would learn he was a slave soon enough. He glanced away from the passer-bys on the street, unable to meet their gaze. Instead, he studied the buildings, trying to categorize the neighborhood - working class - and examining alleyways and hiding places where discrete meetings might take place.

Labor Town was close-built, labyrinthine; people with less to spend on housing had to live closer together and in smaller homes, and the walkways between them were numerous and narrow. Balmora had not been laid out by planners, but rather built up over time from the river outward, with all of the chaos of winding streets that this ultimately entailed. There were always one or two young men of no obvious profession loitering in the darker places, sometimes Dunmer, sometimes other races.

Kala breathed in as she walked, squinting as her eyes adjusted. She had been indoors for three days, and the change was pleasant to her as well. There were people that she knew casually who greeted her as they passed.

"Three blessings, Kala," or a gruffer but still cautiously polite, "Morning, outlander." They saw nothing remarkable in her being followed by a much taller Khajiit trying to hide his slave bracers. Sometimes new slaves were shy, or perhaps she'd been beating him to break him in. Someone who lived in this neighborhood would have to buy cheap and make the best of it. Everyone knew that Saluri down the street had had no end of trouble with that Argonian she bought by mail from Caldera: "Sent away his silt strider fares to his master and everything and he was lazy as the day was long, hardly kept the house clean, you know, she'd really been cheated on that one."

It was a good half hour's walk to get out of the city to the West, traveling along the river toward the narrow walkway that went through the arch. Hlaalu guards in their bonemold armor kept a close eye on the way in and out even in the day-time, for there were no solid gates. They were visible off in the distance for some way before Kala and Ra'kesh would reach them, at least now and then when the river turned that way. In the meantime, even in this mostly residential neighborhood there was the odd beggar or street vendor, and the bakeries and laundries were in full swing even if the best merchants and smiths were over in the Commercial District. Clouds of steam emerged from doorways scented with soap or yeast as they passed.

His joints ached as he moved, but Ra'kesh did his best to keep up with Kala in order to mask his infirmity. The stinging humiliation of being seen as a slave faded somewhat as he worried instead about keeping his paws on the ground. The sound of water gently sloshing against boats in the canal below, as well as the strong odour of freshly caught slaughterfish from the marketplaces lining the river, brought back faint memories of the port towns he had spent much of his youth in. It reminded him of happier, simpler times.

No man or mer directed their greetings to Ra'kesh, so he ignored them. He was accustomed to ignoring their hateful scowls when he awoke from a bender on some anonymous city street. The distaste elves had for him was mutual, so he did not care.

As they approached the gates, Ra'kesh's tongue lolled out of his mouth in a quiet pant. His tail hung limply, tip twitching.

Ra'kesh used to jog for miles chasing prey with Father, now a simple stroll through city is too much, he admonished himself angrily.

Kala caught an unexpected glimpse of pink from the corner of her eye and glanced up to see the Khajiit's tongue out. That usefully demonstrative tail hung limp.

He's going to need a rest once we're clear of the city. Think of a way to do that, think of a way to do that...

"Good day, Serjo," she said politely to the guard as they approached the narrow walk. Without thinking she stepped in front of Ra'kesh; she had always been accustomed to walk in front of her father and brothers because they could see over her head.

"Under sun and sky," the guard returned from inside his bonemold helm. Little spur-like projections stuck out either side of the rounded visor. "Be careful out there, Sera. Bandits have been seen on the road to Moonmoth Legion Fort. We have a Fighter's Guild contract out, but they haven't brought anyone in yet."

"Thank you for the warning. We'll be very careful."

"Is this your slave? I've never seen you with a Khajiit before."

Kala hardened her jaw. She would have to say it to someone sooner or later. Her tone was calm.

"Yes. I've just bought him in Tel Aruhn this week."

"I think you may have been cheated, Sera, but you know your own business best. Off you go."

Ra'kesh stood up at full height, pushing out his chest and glaring at the guard when he said that Kala had been "cheated". The Dunmer waved them on, seemingly heedless. Ra'kesh continued to glare as they walked away, turning his head to keep his eyes on the guard until he was forced to break the stare.

Kala hurried out to the edge of the main road. There was not much foot traffic. Most people who needed to travel between Balmora and Vivec took the silt strider. There was one at the high platform now, shifting its gangly legs idly as the driver up above harangued people passing the stairs to try to fill all the seats. "We make a special trip, just for you! Same low price!"

"Idiot elf," Ra'kesh growled when they had left the guard's range of hearing. "Without fancy armor, Ra'kesh could knock him flat." He slow-motion pantomimed the moves he would use. His anger dissipated as they left the city limits.

Kala chose to ignore his posturing. When they were out from under the giant insect's shadow she said,

"Well, I'm afraid it can't be helped. You'll have to watch for bandits while I'm picking bittergreen. Probably best if you sit over there." She pointed to a fallen log under the shade of a great mushroom near the path. "Whistle or something if you see anything dangerous."

Ra'kesh "hmphed" under his breath, but did as he was told. After spending so long in the sunlight, the shade was refreshing. He rested his forearms on his thighs and watched Kala gather for a while, until he felt some strength returning. He was still tired, and a little queasy... But not as useless as he looked.

Ra'kesh approached Kala with his bag.

"Khajiit has good ears, no danger here. Which plant is correct ones?"