The Infernal city

Attrebus nodded, feeling stupid. Sul seemed to know everything, and he was starting to feel as if he knew very little. Whenever he went someplace he hadn’t been, he always received a briefing about it. That had always been enough—it hadn’t occurred to him to learn much about any place he had no business with. It made him wonder what important things he didn’t know about Black Marsh.

But what really nagged him was that he had known Khajiit, been practically brothers with them. And yet he hadn’t been aware of the most fundamental facts of their existence.

He tried to remember conversations he might have had with the cats in his guard, and realized he couldn’t remember any that went on for more than a few sentences.

So maybe they hadn’t been his friends. Maybe he really hadn’t known most of his guard that well.

Which led him back to the festering question: Was Sul right about everything?

This depressing train of thought was interrupted by Lesspa returning her attention to them. She folded lithely down into a squat that looked as if it ought to hurt but clearly didn’t.

“Now,” she said, “we discuss Je’m’ath.”

“Very well,” Sul replied. “How can we help you?”

“Moon-sugar is scarce here, but plentiful in Rimmen. But the new potentate there forbids our clans inside the walls, and will not sell us sugar. You’re not Khajiit. You go into Rimmen, get the sugar.”

“Why won’t he sell you sugar?”

“Doesn’t like the free clans. He’s outlawed us on our own land. Khajiit that work in the walls have all they want, but we won’t live like that, yes? We won’t.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Sul said. “But our path takes us beyond Rimmen, to the border.”

“Ours turns back from here.”

Sul nodded thoughtfully. “Very well.”

“Wait a minute,” Attrebus said.

“No,” Sul said. “You don’t understand this.”

“I’m starting to. You promise not to kill us if we help you get moon-sugar?”

“We protect you,” Lesspa said.

“Yes, you protect us from you.”

“You meet us first,” Lesspa said. “That’s good for you. There is no order in the North. Bandits, killers, prey even on weak Khajiit, and your kind is very unpopular on these plains. Miles to Rimmen. Many more to the border. We help you survive, you help us.”

“What if we say no? You’ll kill us?”

“No. We ate cake with you. Maybe kill you next time, but not now. Still, you’ll die soon enough without us.”

Attrebus looked at Sul. “Is she right?”

“Probably. The last time I was here, this was all still in the Empire and pacified. Things have changed.”

“Pacified,” Lesspa said. “Yes. Not now. All is wild. The mane was assassinated, you know? There is war in the South. Here, just chaos and potentate.”

“Look,” Attrebus said, trying to force a little gravity into his voice. “What Sul and I are doing is very important. Something very, very bad is happening in Black Marsh, something that could destroy us all. You should be proud to help us. There would be much honor in that.”

“We will help you. And you will give us Je’m’ath. Then you will go find this bad thing, and we will go west.”

“Agreed,” Sul snapped before Attrebus could say anything else.

Annaig didn’t reply that night, but he didn’t let it concern him. Likely she was just asleep or busy. He went to sleep still sour over the bargain Sul had made and annoyed that Lesspa naturally assumed the Dunmer was the leader.

The next day he had to grudgingly admit things might have worked out for the best. Twice before noon they met other bands of Khajiit who plainly wanted to kill Sul and him. The first bunch offered to buy them, and the second actually had to be backed down by a show of force.

They left the badlands and entered a ragged steppe of thorn-scrub. It lifted and rolled in long undulations. Two days on that and finally, over a distant hill they could see a golden gleam.

“Rimmen,” Lesspa said. “We dare go no nearer.”

“That’s still a long way,” Sul said. “What’s between here and there?”

“Rimmen’s patrols. Traders. Not so dangerous for you in there, but dangerous for us.” She handed him a plain leather bag. “Get a good deal.”

And so they left Lesspa and her clan and continued on toward Rimmen.

“This is a waste of time,” Attrebus complained. “We’re going to lose a day.”

“No we aren’t,” Sul said. “We’re just going to ride on to the border. We’ve no business in Rimmen.”

At first Attrebus wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“But you took their oath,” he protested when it sank in. “Bound us to do it. We have their money!”

“Which I’m sure will be of use to us.”

“But they kept their end of the bargain,” Attrebus said. “We can’t—”

“We can,” Sul replied. “I’ve broken much deeper oaths than this. I survived it. This is not only a waste of time, it’s dangerous. We’ll be breaking the law, supplying them with contraband.”

“The law doesn’t sound fair,” Attrebus said.

“Fair? What do you even mean by that? No law is fair to everyone. A law against stealing is unfair to thieves. The thing to think about is whether you’ll be able to save your precious Annaig if you’re clapped in a dungeon or beheaded.”

And something burst in Attrebus.

“What can I do anyway?” he shouted. “You say I’m not a tenth the man I think I am, right? So what are we going to do, the two of us, against this thing? With me being so useless and all?”

To his horror, he heard his voice crack and realized he was starting to cry.

“Here we go,” Sul said.

“What do you care anyway? I can’t imagine you care if Umbriel kills everyone.”

“That’s right, I don’t,” Sul admitted.

“But—then why? Why are you bothering, if you don’t care?”

Sul glared at him, and Attrebus suddenly saw something in those terrible eyes he hadn’t seen before: pain.

“I loved someone,” Sul snarled. “She was murdered. My homeland was destroyed, my people decimated and scattered to the winds. I lost everything. Those responsible for that must pay, and one of them is on Umbriel. Is that simple enough for you?”

His speech struck Attrebus dumb for a moment. Not so much the words as the tone, the sheer tortured flatness of Sul’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“Just ride,” Sul snapped.

But he couldn’t let it go. “You mean to say that you were there when the Red Mountain exploded? You know what happened?”

Sul didn’t answer.

“It must be terrible. I can’t imagine—”

“Please, for the favor of Mephala don’t tell me what you can and can’t imagine. Just do what I say.”

His tone was still odd, and Attrebus still didn’t exactly trust the man. But he was starting to believe him, at least as far as Umbriel was concerned. And in other things.

He took a deep breath. “It’s true, isn’t it? What Radhasa said about me?”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Sul intoned, “we’re back to you again. Are you still worried about the shame? About everyone knowing but you?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“But they don’t,” Sul said, his voice softening a bit. “Most people in the world don’t know you’re a fraud.”