Even with money in my pocket (ha! As if I had pockets), I didn’t rent a room at the inn. First because the “rooms” were little more than alcoves set along the perimeter of the main room, blocked from the general public only by heavy curtains; second because even in the little time I spent there to get food, I got propositioned a dozen times by men who assumed I was “on the job” (despite being covered in mine dirt – one would think that would be a deterrent, but I am here to tell you, it was not!); and third, because…well, I couldn’t afford it..

 

See, a “room” cost 200 gold per night, which was about what I could make mining in a week (you can make a decent living working in a mine in Skyrim as long as the ore you are mining is literally anything but iron). I was only planning on being in town for a week and I needed enough cash to hire an escort just to leave town, assuming I could find one I could afford. I asked around and found the average rate for the cheapest mercenary is around 650g for a week; I would be lucky to get 180g from the mine, and the trek to Helgen takes five days if you don’t take many breaks and the weather is fine and you don’t get lost or captured by rapists and/or slavers, so to be safe, I would want at least two weeks’ pay prepared.

 

So to sum that up: I needed at least 1,300 gold. At best, I was going to have 180.

 

(As a side note, that mine is an iron mine but apparently someone discovered a node of ebony the day after I left. A week’s worth of that would have paid for six mercenaries with coins to spare! Such is my luck. Also, ebony is a metal here (sort of similar to obsidian (which also isn’t a metal, but a glass) but less brittle), not petrified wood. ‘Tis a strange place.)

 

I briefly wondered if I could pay someone a few gold just to get me far enough out of town that the guards wouldn’t come rushing to ask where my escort was again, but then I would have to make the trek without weapons or armor, since I would be unlikely to be able to smuggle anything larger than a dagger out of town. Mentally, I started to prepare myself for the worst possible (but most probable) solution: supplementing my fee with sexual favors. Not exactly dignified, but at least I would be having sex by my own choice instead of it being forced on me. A big step up!

 

Anyway, sorry for the digression(s). Where was I? Oh, right. So I handed over five of my precious coins for a loaf of bread, a chunk of surprisingly decent cheese, and a mug of ale which I gulped down on the spot, then headed back toward the mine.

 

About halfway up the slope to the entrance, a voice called from the area around the smelter.

 

"Ahh, the beauty of the naked form. These Nords are rather prudish, are they not? Of course, there is an island you can reach filled with wonderful, naked, glistening bodies. It only appears when the moons are full, the rain falls, the seas run red, and it is M'aiq's birthday."

 

There is only one possible response to a statement like that. I turned and peered into the growing darkness. Two glowing eyes peered back, then the lithe form of a Khajiit stepped out of the shadows.

 

“Of course, nakedness in Skyrim is not so practical. Much snow in Skyrim. Enough snow. M'aiq does not want it anymore."

 

“I am with you on that. I take it you are M’aiq?”

 

The cat bowed in that graceful way that only their kind can manage. “Greetings! Indeed, I am M’aiq. M'aiq knows much and tells some. M'aiq knows many things others do not."

 

“A useful skill. I don’t really need information; just money.”

 

“Money does not exist, my friend. Hats, on the other hand, are very real. M'aiq longs for a Colovian Fur Helm. Practical, yet stylish. M'aiq is very sad he does not have one."

 

“I…have never heard of that, but if I ever find one, I’ll pick it up for you.”

 

“You are most kind; M’aiq is proactively grateful. But M’aiq wonders – what are you doing in a place like this? M’aiq senses you are far far from home.”

 

“You have no idea.” Is what I tried to say, but as I opened my mouth, a wave of homesickness hit me like a Mack truck careening full tilt on the Autobahn. A sound somewhere between a gurgle and a whimper was the only thing that escaped my mouth as I felt myself collapse to my knees.

 

“Far from home, indeed.” Furry hands helped me stand and led me to a soft sofa. Chesterfield, my brain stated idly. “Sit here. M’aiq will make some tea.”

 

I sat on the sofa, its cushions just the right combination of soft yet firm, and leaned back with a sigh and looked up at the ceiling. It was made of beautiful planks of some dark wood that seemed to radiate the comfort of safety.

 

“M’aiq hopes you like chamomile.”

 

I blinked as I lowered my head to find the Khajiit offering a dainty teacup with pictures all in blue that my brain immediately linked to a tea set in a book I had read (over and over) as a child. What was it called? I tried to recall as I accepted the cup and took a sip. The hot liquid, very slightly sweetened, ran a trail of heaven down my throat.

 

The fire in the fireplace crackled as M’aiq settled beside me on the sofa. “Stress is no good for you. Tell M’aiq your troubles so your stress may have somewhere to go.”

 

“Frances!” The name came to me out of the blue and I giggled then coughed as tea went down the wrong pipe. M’aiq gave my back gentle pats as the spasm eased. “’A Bargain for Frances.’ That’s what it was called.”

 

“M’aiq is glad that mystery is solved. Is that all that troubles you?”

 

“Lord no.” And then I told him. Everything. From the start. Every sordid detail of the past six plus years poured out of me like a confession. We moved from tea to wine as I told him about the forge in Whiterun and Jordy’s betrayal, then shifted from the sofa to the thick, soft rug on the floor in front of the fireplace as I relived the many failed attempts to leave Markarth. Our clothes came off as I described my death at the axe of the Thalmor, and my arrest in Falkreath was told between deep kisses and caresses. We made love as I told him of the anguish and despair of the long years in the mine and came together at Delphine’s rescue. The afterglow was filled with the voice of an ancient dragon granting me his last bit of life so I could start the world over.

 

When at last I finished, we lay, our naked bodies entwined as the fire slowly dried the sweat from my skin, and enjoyed the silent company for a moment told in eons.

 

Finally, M’aiq broke the silence with a whisper in my ear that tickled longing back into my depleted loins. “That is a story of woe as M’aiq has seldom heard before.  M’aiq thinks that, as bad as it was, perhaps it was necessary for you to experience these things.”

 

“Necessary?” Some part of me wanted to protest, but the comfort of his warm body pressed against mine made it a question of mere curiosity.

 

“Perhaps. M’aiq knows much but even M’aiq cannot know the future. But now you know things you could not have known, had your path been different. Now you have felt things it would otherwise be impossible for you to understand. Now you know the truth of the world, and what more powerful weapon could there be than that?”

 

A chill went through me, though not from his words. It was as if the fire had gone out, leaving me in a cold room. “What? What power?”

 

“The power of knowledge. Of understanding. Of the kind of empathy one can only have through experience.”

 

The room faded away, replaced by a blurry grey, and I shivered as I pulled my dress/blanket closer around me. “But…”

 

“You will understand in time. M’aiq knows many things. This is one of them.”

 

“I…” I stopped and blinked as heavy booted footsteps crunched on sandy stone and voices echoed. I scrambled up from my makeshift bed and started shoving my dress/blanket into my sack as some strange dream tickled the edges of my mind, half-remembered scenes of…something that scattered like butterflies into darkness when I tried to reach for them.

 

A glint of white gave me pause, and I stopped shoving and looked in the bag, where I found an incongruent dainty teacup with pictures all in blue. I had no idea where it came from, but it teased my brain – it reminded me of a book I had read once, a long time ago. What was it called?

 

Then some of the miners entered the area I had arranged myself in and called out in greeting (and not some few jests) and I forgot all about it. I finished shoving my dress in my bag, looped it over my shoulder, and grabbed my pick. It was time to get back to work.

 

Don't feed the bastards. Feed yourself instead.

 

 

Next chapter

 

Previous chapter

 

Start from the beginning