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Chapter 3

When Ra'kesh approached her with the bag Kala looked up, leaflet in hand.

"This one. You can see it's a rosette of three around this smaller central bud. Also, if you should see any of these, I need them, too." She reached down to pluck a stalk of wickwheat, rare amidst the growth of heather. "There aren't many here, mind. Just if you should happen to see one. The bittergreen is the most important. Do you know what saltrice looks like?"

"Of course, saltrice common plant." Ra'kesh nodded. "Mistress needs this as well?" He had already begun to move in the opposite direction from Kala, picking as he went.

"Always. It can restore both health and fatigue when mixed properly, so it is indispensable to a mage. And you can make bread from it, of course, if you're willing to spend the time grinding it to flour."

Kala resumed her own picking. She did not tire easily; but then, she normally did this several times a week.

"An alchemist must do this often. Sometimes I take the silt strider out of town to do it elsewhere, depending on the ingredients I need. Rides are cheap enough and certain potions valuable enough to make it worthwhile. For example, if I can kill a bushel of cliff racers and collect the same in coda flowers I can eat for a month. That's out in the swamp, mind."

Ra'kesh whistled.

"Ra'kesh picked wrong career. Unimaginable that one makes a living picking weeds. But Ra'kesh not smart enough for reading heavy mage books." He chuckled, and continued moving down the path.

"It's not the weeds, it's what you do with them," she said dryly. "How smart you are is still something I'm trying to figure out."

Ra'kesh stopped after a few moments, remembering that in 50 yards the spell on his bracers would activate. He wasn't even close to being that far away from Kala, but the reminder soured his good mood. He said nothing more, and concentrated on the task at hand.

He didn't seem inclined to talk after that, so she let it go, continuing in her work. She plucked strands of other useful plants here and there as she found them, but this close to Balmora there was more roobrush, heather and occasionally corkbulb than anything else.

When perhaps twenty minutes had passed, the wind shifted slightly, carrying Ra'kesh the clear scent of recently washed orc, chemicals, plucked herbs, oiled leather and what was definitely a human male. No one was obviously in view, but the shadows under the corkbulbs across the road had changed slightly.

Ra'kesh paused for a moment, whiskers twitching as he scented the air. He flicked his ears about and caught the faint creaking of leather armor. He continued picking, and slowly made his way back to Kala, plucking a few stalks of whickweat as he went.

"Mistress, someone stands over there," he spoke under his breath, nodding slightly to the thick brush on the side of the road. "At least one human male." He held his head low, as if paying attention to his chore, but kept watch from the corner of his eye.

Kala frowned as she tucked another sprig of bittergreen into her bag, letting go of the slender vine. She had never encountered bandits out here before. Usually the road was busy enough to discourage them this close to the city. She looked up and realized they had wandered a good half-mile from the gates now, Balmora dwindling into the near distance. They were certainly out of hearing of the guards.

"What could possibly be worth," she started to say, and was interrupted by the twang of a heavy crossbow being fired. The form of a man in darkly stained leather armor was just visible among the shading leaves as he stooped to reload. Kala's reflexes were not equal even to notice the thing in the air on its way to her chest.

Ra'kesh instinctively shoved Kala to the ground, hitting the ground hard himself but rolling to absorb the impact. The bolt buried itself in the dirt several yards away with a_thud_. He leapt to his feet, snarling, claws extended and rushed the bandit. The man had loaded the crossbow and aimed for the charging Khajiit. Ra'kesh dodged to the left, anticipating the shot, but did not move fast enough. The bolt grazed his right side, slicing through shirt and flesh. Ra'kesh howled in pain and stumbled onto his hands and knees just in front of the bandit.

Kala_oofed_as she landed with a crunch of heather, braid flying behind her. She rolled to one knee, blood rushing to her head in a reflex as old as the Orsimer themselves. Ra'kesh was on his hands and knees, bleeding from a gash in his side. In front of him, a tall human in dark leather and a crude mask made from a length of black silk stepped from the corkbulb foliage, fabric whispering as he drew a dagger.

She ran through her inventory of spells. Destruction was not her area of greatest proficiency, but in a storm all ports are dry, as they say. She made a flicking gesture with one hand. A sphere of blue-white energy hissed through the air and impacted on the man's chest, driving him back a step. Frost spread over his breastplate, producing an audible_crink_and_crack_as the leather went brittle.

He did not drop the dagger. He threw it at Kala instead. She jerked one hand diagonally in front of her, and the air flickered as an iridescent bubble formed around her. The dagger passed through it, but it was slowed enough that she was able to move aside.

Deep red slowly blossomed on Ra'kesh's new shirt. He gritted his teeth through the pain and climbed to his feet while Kala had the human occupied. With a snarl he launched himself at the man, but the bandit moved too quickly and dodged out of the way, throwing a punch at Ra'kesh's head. Ra'kesh deflected the punch with his forearm and was knocked backwards, but kept his balance. He circled behind, forcing the man to choose between facing Ra'kesh or Kala. With Ra'kesh in striking distance, he had no choice but to keep his eyes on the Khajiit.

Ra'kesh stared into the human's eyes and grinned. He flicked his eyes at Kala.

"Now, mage!"

The bandit whirled around to respond to the imminent attack, and when he did, Ra'kesh ripped a bolt from the quiver on his back. The bandit realized the deception as soon as he felt the Khajiit's hands on him, but it was too late. Ra'kesh grabbed the man by the hair with one hand and drove the bolt into his neck with the other. His agonized scream pierced the air; Birds shook the branches of nearby trees as they flew away in fear. The bandit dropped the crossbow in shock and fell to his knees, grasping at the bolt in his neck. But Ra'kesh did not let go. He held the man's hair in his clenched fist and twisted the bolt, sinking it in deeper. The man's eyes darted wildly as blood ran down his neck from under the mask.

The bandit might have recognized it as a ruse, but Kala did not. She made a flinging gesture as she ran toward them, and a ribbon of crimson light sped from her hand to the man's chest, buried in his body. It stuttered as the man fell to his knees, and she squinted at the awful sound he made, slowing to a walk. The ribbon of absorption stuttered again, flickered and vanished as the bandit's eyes rolled up and he slumped. One breath rattled in his chest before he went limp.

Kala nudged the body with her foot, then turned to look at Ra'kesh. "You're hurt. Hold still." She reached for him with one hand, the fingertips glowing faintly blue. No veteran of any real combat beyond the most formal of mage duels, it did not occur to her that reaching for him while he still had both hands on his prey might be a bad idea.

Ra'kesh released the man when he felt the body grow limp. The corpse fell face-first on the ground, a dark stain slowly spreading on the dirt below. His hand automatically went to his side to cover the wound.

Ra'kesh eyed Kala dully, barely aware of what she was saying. He panted heavily, blood still pounded in his ears. The world around him seemed to spin for a moment. He knew that he would fall soon, so Ra'kesh dropped to one knee.

He flinched away from her touch, but realized a moment later she was using healing magic. He pulled his blood-smothered palm away from the wound to give her access.

Automatically, Kala put her left arm around Ra'kesh's waist to support him as he sank to one knee. He was bigger than she was, or would have been had he been in better health; but she was strong enough to support him, even if she could not have lifted him with her arms alone. The solid warmth of him startled her. She had not been so close to another living body in... She couldn't remember. Probably the last time she had hugged Dra'viji goodbye.

"It's all right, it's all right, I have you." She touched her glowing hand to the wound. Healing power bloomed, and pain began to dim and fade as the flesh crept together, blood drying up and blowing away like dust as the wound closed.

"I never saw him," she realized aloud, slowly loosening her grip, not wishing to let him fall over, aware now it was over that she had invaded his space without asking. "He would've killed me."

Ra'kesh stared mesmerized at the blue glow. He had never seen magic use this close before, let alone on himself. Heat spread through his body from the site of the wound as the pain faded. He gingerly touched the spot with two fingers when she was finished. If not for the tear in his shirt, it would be impossible to know he had ever been injured. He stared at Kala in amazement.

Although the pain was gone, Ra'kesh felt horribly dizzy. He hadn't lost much blood, but the sudden exertion.. it felt as if he had just expended more energy in 60 seconds than he had collectively in the last several months.

"Ra'kesh is fine, can walk now," he said awkwardly, extracting himself from Kala's arm. He was not used to being touched or accepting help. But rather than standing, he crouched next to the body and began turning out the pockets, completely oblivious to the emotional moment Kala was having. He came up with a few gold coins and nothing else. Kala stared back for a moment, face blank and stunned. As he pulled away she recoiled, sinking back in her heels to put more space between them.

"Bah," Ra'kesh muttered in disgust. "Stupid bandit probably keep stash somewhere else."

_Idiot. What is wrong with you?_Kala thought. Maybe it was time to give in to the constant hints in Mother's letters and have her marriage arranged if she was going to go all soft in the head from having to heal one lying skooma addict.

She got up quickly, brushing at her knees, and went over to where the man had been hiding. Carefully she parted the fronds above the bulbous roots. She could just glimpse a strap flopped out from behind one. Kala crouched to slide back into the space, feeling around. Her hand closed around the bulky shape of a canvas knapsack. She dragged it out into the light and upended it. Several small bags rolled out onto the ground, clinking with drakes. They were followed by another dagger, a jar of armor blacking, a water skin, and a paper wrap that probably held dried food.

..."Oh," said Kala.

Ra'kesh pushed himself off of the ground with his hands and stood with some effort. He followed Kala to the bandit's hiding place and watched over her shoulder as she emptied the knapsack. His golden eyes widened when the coin purses hit the ground, like a kitten in a sweets shop.

"See? Mage is smarter than Ra'kesh," he chuckled, reaching down to pick up one of the bags. He froze, noticing a familiar scent. Never in a million years could he forget it.

Moon sugar. It was here, somewhere. After a quick search his eyes landed on the small paper packet and knew this was it. He had to prevent Kala from getting it somehow. Ra'kesh quickly grabbed the bag he'd been heading for originally, ignoring the little package for now. Act natural, Ra'kesh.

"Flattery gets you nothing, but it is a nice change from casting aspersions on my sanity." She had not missed his sudden immobility, but she did not see the source; at first she looked around to see if his keener senses had detected another enemy. By the time she looked back he was holding out the bag of coins.

"Mistress should probably put things back in bag, count at home. Bandit may have friends nearby. Not safe," he said, holding out the bag of coins to her and collecting up the others.

"Good idea. I've got enough bittergreen for today." Kala took it, careful not to touch him, and started putting things back into the knapsack. "I suppose we leave him where he lies. I'll tell the guards when we pass them, anyway. Maybe they'll finally be able to convince the Fighters Guild to get out here and investigate."

Ra'kesh couldn't help but stare as Kala's hands moved over the items on the ground, all of them valuable things he'd like to sneak into his possession.. but especially that package. He flicked his ears at Kala as she spoke, not really listening. His mouth watered imagining that sweet moon sugar melting on his tongue.

"I am going to cast another spell on you," Kala said. "I'm sure you're not tired, but if I don't cast my restoratives every so often I'll forget how to use them." It was a weak excuse, but she wasn't feeling her brightest at the moment. She wanted badly to be in a quiet room well away from the stink of recent death and the large and sharp-toothed reminder of her bad judgment. She dropped the paper packet back into the bag without even looking at it.

She flicked her left hand at Ra'kesh. Green light bloomed around his body in a spiral as some of his fatigue dissipated, leaving him less dizzy and exhausted.

As Kala's magic enveloped his body, Ra'kesh felt his fatigue and dizziness fade like a bad memory. He clenched his fists, reveling in the new-found strength. It was nothing like being fully healthy, but he hadn't felt this good since... Well, since he started taking skooma daily.

He collected the crossbow and bolts from the body, then walked over to the spot where they had initially been attacked and gathered up his bag, and Kala's too since she was carrying the knapsack. The path was littered with stray wickwheat stalks and bittergreen petals that had fallen out. He gathered these up, stuffing them into a bag rather roughly.

"To Balmora?" he said eagerly, starting off down the path and looking at Kala over his shoulder.

"Balmora," she confirmed. "I suppose you can keep the crossbow, provided you promise not to shoot me with it."

The thought of shooting Kala with the crossbow hadn't even crossed his mind, but when she mentioned it, Ra'kesh felt very conflicted. While Kala's magic was impressive beyond words, none of it had been deadly. And she had her guard down. He probably could kill her and take the key, or at least threaten her to give it up.

Ra'kesh may be a thief, an addict, and a generally shady individual, but he also had honor. Kala saved his life back there. He sighed. At least this was a good chance for him to prove to her that he was trustworthy and get her guard lowered even further.

"Ra'kesh promise, but might shoot stupid ash-face guard. Heh."

Kala started off back toward the city, walking quickly. There was no reason to slow down for Ra'kesh's sake now, and she badly wanted a bath. Now that it was over she felt sick to her stomach, and there was a strange, prickly feeling in her limbs, like the time she'd asked Galbedir to teach her a contact shock spell.

It wasn't as if she had never seen a dead body. There had been Zharra, at the funeral, and her grandparents' pyres. Once she had tripped over a beggar in an alley who had turned out to be dead, and she had reported it to the guards, and they had come and hauled the poor soul away. None of those had been violent. She had listened to all of her father's bloodthirsty war stories without the slightest inkling of how a newly killed corpse would actually look or smell.

That particular thought made her stomach lurch.

"Hold on a second, Ra'kesh," she said, quite calmly, and stepped over into the heather to lean on the trunk of a giant mushroom while she threw up.

Ra'kesh turned, confused about what she could be stopping for, and quickly averted his gaze for her privacy while she vomited. He was very desensitized to death.. in fact he'd killed a significant number of people with his own hands. But he could clearly remember the day he had been in Kala's place, the first day he had seen death. Ra'kesh had thrown up as well.

He waited until he heard her footsteps on the path again before turning to check if she was ok.

"First time not easy. Mistress feel better after good drink," he said gently. It was stupid and unhelpful, but it was all he had to offer.

Kala spat, rinsed her mouth from the tiny emergency flask in its tiny pouch on her belt, and spat again. It was a waste of a good fatigue restorative, but she had to have that taste out of her mouth. It took her a moment to register that Ra'kesh had spoken. Then she turned to stare at him.

"_First_time. You've - No, I don't want to know." She rubbed between her eyes as she came back to the path. "Thanks for the thought." Her head hurt, but that was just from throwing up; everything would clench and it would take a while for it all to unclench.

Something had happened for a moment, while she thought they were about to die. Everything had been slower and clearer, easy to understand, without complications. _Perhaps I am an orc after all. Won't Father be proud. _She tasted acid in her throat again, and drained the rest of her flask to get rid of it, tucking the empty carefully away.

"I could certainly use one. At least it looks as though we can afford to share a bottle of flin." She did not want to go and get one. She wanted to get into a tub of hot water and scrub until her skin was raw. But that would not be productive, and it also would not get a new shirt for the slave who had just pushed her out of the way of a crossbow bolt.

That was unexpected,_she thought, as rational cogitation slowly began to reassert itself. I would half think he would offer the man my satchel, or run away._

"You really_were_a pirate, weren't you," she said. _Slit many Dunmer throats. Ha. _"I honestly thought you made that up."

Ra'kesh watched Kala swig her potion for a moment to ensure she was ok before continuing to walk in front of her.

"Khajiit all liars now hm? Such racism!" he mocked good-naturedly. "Yes, Ra'kesh had little choice with no more parents to take care. Dunmer call themselves traders on paperwork for access to port, but let slavers on ships. Humans of Empire stupid, or don't care. So Ra'kesh have perfect job: good revenge and good coin. Khajiit government not care much, look other way, because Khajiit hate elf."

He sighed heavily and leaned the crossbow over his shoulder to help carry the weight. As a pirate, their marks were just as often truly innocent traders, even other Khajiit at times, and plenty of Argonians. But Kala did not need to hear that just now.

"Meet several Orcs in those days," he added. "Always good warriors. Always good drinkers. Mistress not like any Orc Ra'kesh has known. Very proper."

"Yes, my parents have also helpfully pointed that out." Kala opened and closed her hands as she walked, tugging them back into her sleeves. They were showing an irritating tendency to tremble. Get hold of yourself. How will you survive your expedition if you are overset by one dead bandit?"But there_are_other orcs in the Mages Guild, you know. I learned that spell I used to heal you from Sharn gra-Muzgob here in Balmora. She is an expert in the Restorative arts. And it was an orcish healer who saved me when I was very small. I fell out of a tree."

As they approached the gates the guard grunted in surprise.

"You're letting your slave have a weapon?"

Ra'kesh stopped in his tracks and eyed the guard from boot to helm, squinting his eyes as if assessing the mer and finding him lacking.

"No jealousy, maybe someday Imperials will let their Hlaalu dogs have crossbows as well. Khajiit might even teach you how to shoot." He flashed his fangs in a wide grin.

Kala stepped quickly between them as the guard started to reach for his longsword.

"He took it off the man who was trying to shoot me with it, Serjo," she said, raising both hands placatingly. "The body's still out by the road, if you want someone to go take a look at it. He was definitely some sort of bandit, but I don't know if there are others." And as the man hesitated, hand on his scabbard: "My slave saved my life today, Serjo. Another traveler might not be so lucky."

"This is the Guild's problem," grumbled the man, finally lowering his gauntleted hand. "It's time we submitted a complaint. Lazy bastards and their Camonna Tong cronies."

"A complaint definitely seems in order. I'm very sorry to trouble you, Serjo." She waved Ra'kesh urgently past her.

Ra'kesh smirked as he was ushered away. The only thing better than taunting a Dunmer was doing so and getting away with it.

"Ra'kesh apologize for any embarrassment to Mistress. Must not tarnish owner's good name with poor behavior," he said irreverently.

"You aren't sorry at all," she said coolly as she started off toward the house, the guard waving them off irritably. "You should be. It is not impossible for the guards to confiscate you from me if you behave badly enough in public to prove that you won't obey me. If that happens you will be sold again, cheap. _I_will be publicly embarrassed, but_you_will probably end up sold to some Telvanni for their corprus experiments. I leave it to you to determine which of us will be worse off."

It was all that she should have expected. You give one inch, you show one sign of weakness, and he acts sympathetic for two seconds and then he immediately starts pushing to see what he can get away with.

He_had_saved her life.

_And I have saved his. We're even. Don't forget that and get all mush-headed. _She turned to the left and stalked off toward the Commercial district, sickness forgotten except for the headache. That seemed to be getting worse. The afternoon was drawing on now, the sun bright and hot overhead. Steam rose from the river, and the smell of fish was stronger than the smells of bread and laundry that had greeted the morning.

Kala's words were a slap that wiped the mirth from his face in an instant. He did not respond and instead plodded behind Kala, ears limp, staring at the back of her robe while mulling over her words. When he finally looked up, Ra'kesh didn't recognize the area.

"Many pardons, but this is not the way to Mistress's home?" His voice had lost much of the energy from earlier.

"No, it isn't," she said. She sounded a little more subdued as well. Her head still hurt. "You need a new shirt, and I need a drink, and I also don't want to cook. We're going to Ra'Virr's and the Lucky Lockup. We can count what's left when we get home."

The cobbled walk led uphill from the river, past the silt strider platform. They passed the Lockup first, tattered banner waving in the breeze, but she kept going past the piles of crates and around the corner.

Ra'kesh double checked the tiny tear in his shirt to see if she was being serious. He blinked, confused.

"Mistress waste coin on new clothes? This shirt one day old. Orcs not learn mending skills?" He quickened his pace so they now walked side by side, so he could see her face.

Kala slowed, looking up at him in surprise. "I suppose. Then you'd have to wear a shirt with a mend in it and probably a permanent blotch, though. Does that not bother you?" Her own clothes were not immaculate; even before she had been tossed into the bracken, there were permanent stains around the hem from ordinary dirt and at the cuffs from alchemical work. She did have a notable lack of patches or holes.

Ra'kesh forced a nervous laugh.

"Ra'kesh wear same clothes for many years before taken in Tel Ahrun. Suppose streetscum Khajiits and wealthy mages have different expectations of proper dress. Yes, poorly dressed slave must reflect on master..." he trailed off, looking away. He shifted about uncomfortably, transferring the crossbow to his other hand just to occupy himself.

Kala coughed, then squinted at the discomfort this caused her. "Ah."One would think I had really hurt him. The trouble is that I can't trust him in the slightest, and if I act as though I can he will just push back again.

"Well. Waste not, want not, I suppose. We 'll get you another shirt as a spare, since you may need one on the expedition, and I will mend the current one. How about that? We're nearly there anyway." The great plaza of the Commercial District lay open in front of them, guar-sellers with their small herds penned near the main gate, shops and restaurants jammed in side-by-side with their banners pictographically advertising their wares. To their right, the unassuming shop was packed into a corner between the Mages Guild and the steep, narrow street they had ascended. A banner of two roughly-drawn guar indicated a general trader. The street off to the right led to the Guilds, a book shop, more restaurants, and the stairs up to High Town, where the richer Hlaalu lived.

"Ra'kesh supposes that is fair," he answered quietly, although in truth it bothered him quite a bit that Kala was spending so much money on him while expecting nothing in return, other than made up jobs like "being a lookout." He was perfectly aware that their relationship was nothing like the typical master and slave. Not that he wanted it to be, but it was hard to know how to behave in a role completely new to him while still holding onto his stubborn dignity.

Ra'kesh did kill the bandit, so it is rightfully Ra'kesh's gold anyway, he told himself. But in that case, there's other things Ra'kesh would buy before shirts... He pushed the thought away and followed Kala into the shop.

He was mortified to see that the shopkeeper was Khajiit. Although Kala did mention the name earlier, Ra'kesh was distracted. Rather than fumble around hiding his bracers, Ra'kesh tried his best to act natural and unphased by his situation. He looked Ra'virr in the eye and gave a nod of greeting.

The interior was lined with shelving and stacked with dishes, equipment, folded clothes, random weapons. The general impression was of a hurricane having passed through a Hlaalu mansion.

"Aah, pretty orclet, Ra'Virr will yet convince you to buy one of his famous daedric -" The shopkeeper, a slender fellow in clean but unpretentious homespuns, stopped to look the taller man over. "...Pretty orclet has made a new purchase, it seems." His tone was neutral, whiskers shifting. Ra'Virr was evidently a master of his own reactions; after one small twitch his tail was quite still. His ears never moved at all.

To Kala, the sudden cessation of his usual enthusiasm meant he probably disapproved. They had always been on friendly terms, and she had not been able to bring herself to explain why she suddenly needed money when she had brought in the Make-Me-Pretties earlier in the week. His green eyes lingered on the crossbow and the bags with more evident curiosity.

"Yes, this is Ra'kesh. He is going with me to Dagon Fel for my expedition," she explained quietly. She couldn't bring herself to act as though she was proud of that fact. "Today he very bravely defended me from a bandit who attacked us on the road, and now he needs a new shirt."

The smaller man edged around to look more closely at Ra'kesh's clothing. "B'vek! Ah, but that must have been a dreadful wound. Yes, Ra'virr has another shirt for the doughty slave of the pretty orclet. One moment." He scooted over to rummage in a crate.

"Mistress praises Ra'kesh too much. She dazzle bandit with powerful magics, and patch Ra'kesh up good as new." He patted his side for emphasis.

Ra'kesh dropped the canvas bags on the floor and set the crossbow on the counter, relieved to have it off his hands for a moment. He explored the room with his eyes, searching for any clues about Ra'Virr's business.. It was quite fortuitous to have met another Khajiit in this way. He might have moon sugar, or know where to get skooma in Balmora. Ra'kesh scented the air for any signs of the sacred powder, but the shop was too busy with various smells to discern any one thing.

"Mm, well, if one must be a slave, one could fall into worse hands than those of Kala gra-Nend." He came up with a shirt very similar to the one Ra'kesh presently wore, but dyed a dark green. "Perhaps this will suit."

The shop was entirely devoid of hints that the owner might traffic in either moon sugar or skooma. There were no ornamental snuff-boxes, a subtle indicator of one sort, no pillows or hangings embroidered with icons of Sheggoroth or jollier images of Riddle'thar the Sugar God.

"All right. Hold the bag up, Ra'kesh." She went to rummage in the knapsack, trying to open one of the little money bags without taking it out. The scent of moon sugar drifted faintly out into the room. Ra'Virr laid his ears back immediately.

"Oh, Sera. Please tell Ra'Virr you have not."

She glanced up. "Have not what?"

"Orclet, Ra'Virr knows there is moon sugar in your bag. You cannot fool a Khajiit's nose. One knows that alchemy is done with the stuff, but it is a terrible bane of our people, dear. You must get rid of it as quick as you can."

"Ugh, of course," Kala said, recoiling. "How? If you burn it it gives off fumes, doesn't it?"

She began to rummage through the bag again, looking for the moon sugar. "The bandit must've had it. This bag was his."