It was a cabin in the woods. A familiar cabin. Sloan lifted an eyebrow at Tihwen. “Your father is Luthi Black-Briar?”

 

Tihwen looked startled. “You know him? How did you know this is his cabin?” His eyes widened. “Have…are you one of his women?”

 

Well, there was a tricky question to answer. She had received one of those coveted (he always paid very well – getting chosen for one of his “dalliances” paid the equivalence of a week’s normal work) invitations twice in her past life. She wondered where he ordered his whores from since this version of Riften didn’t have the Vixen.

 

It occurred to Sloan in a flash that she had given up on finding the Vixen too early. Just because it wasn’t on the canals didn’t mean it didn’t exist, at least in some form. She should have checked the other brothels in town. Of course, she had been arrested before she could do more. And, now that she had killed Kira’s best assassin, it was probably better not to make her presence known to the tong.

 

Instead of answering his question, Sloan pointed at the thin line of smoke that rose from the cabin’s chimney. “I thought you said no one would be here.”

 

“No one should be.” Tihwen shook his head, his expression one of bafflement. “My father is in Solitude and no one else comes here.”

 

“Ibta knomp dro ĩts.” Sloan muttered one of Gilna’s favorite phrases with a wistful smile as she went back to studying the cabin. Never trust an amateur, indeed. “Wait here.”

 

Although the sun was just tugging at the horizon, so darkness prevailed (well, for everyone but her), Sloan took no chances, slipping with care through the trees then edging to the window. A quick glance revealed a bedroom with a tawny-haired elf sitting at a desk, his back turned to the window.

 

When she returned and mentioned this to Tihwen, a wide grin crossed his face and he shouted, “Yek!” then bounded out of cover.

 

A startled Sloan hissed, “Wait, don’t…” but it was far too late. Tihwen went straight to the front door of the cabin and yanked it open, once again shouting, “Yek!”

 

Sloan shook her head and followed, keeping back and well hidden, with the dagger she had taken off Mishi in hand.

 

Inside the luxurious cabin, Tihwen and the elf were acting like frenetic puppies, hugging and pounding each other on the back and yelling all at the same time. The cacophony made it easy for Sloan to slip into the cabin, get behind the two without being noticed, then make her way to the bedroom.

 

A quick glance at the desk the elf had been working at revealed notes written in a strange runic language and scribbled drawings of indecipherable design. She could make no sense of any of it but her guess was that it was magic related. She snagged a couple wadded up pieces of parchment scattered on the floor, presumably rejected drafts of whatever the elf was working on, stowed them away in her hip bag, then eased to a spot where she could observe the two men without being noticed.

 

“…the same as always,” Tihwen was saying. “My family needed someone to take the blame for Marmel because one of his men got caught smuggling, so off I went to prison again.”

 

The elf shook his head. “I know you have told me you do not mind being sent to prison over and over for your family’s crimes, but I still don’t think it’s right.”

 

“Well, it’s either that or I take part in the family business in a more direct way, and that doesn’t interest me. I don’t want to get involved with mead making, racketeering, bribery…any of it. I just want to grow my snowberries in peace. Getting sent to prison for a couple weeks every few months is a small price to pay.”

 

“I suppose. So what are you doing here, if you are supposed to be in prison?”

 

Tihwen’s eyes grew large and he leaned forward and whispered (but loudly, so it wasn’t really a whisper), “I’m on the lam!”

 

“On the lam?” The elf’s incredulous voice spoke volumes. “You mean you escaped?”

 

“Yes!” Tihwen was grinning like a mad man – clearly he was enjoying every moment of this conversation.

 

“Why? You just said…”

 

“Someone tried to kill me in prison!”

 

“What?!” The elf recoiled. “Why?”

 

Tihwen shrugged, still grinning. “I don’t know! It’s very exciting! Some woman snuck into my cell and tried to stab me!”

 

“Oh, so you angered one of your lady friends! Now it all makes sense.”

 

“Pfft, I don’t have any ‘lady friends,’ as you well know. Although it was a lady who rescued me.” Tihwen glanced around. “Where did she go?”

 

“So a lady tried to kill you but a different lady saved you?” The elf’s voice had flattened from incredulous to skeptical. “Are you sure you didn’t just have a vivid dream? Or some weird sex fantasy since you haven’t been laid in a year?”

 

Tihwen puffed up, indignant. “How would you know how long it has been since I’ve slept with someone? I did it just last week, I’ll have you know.”

 

“Your hand doesn’t count. None of this makes sense. Are you sure you weren’t hallucinating?”

 

“I can assure you, it is true,” Sloan interjected as she stepped from the bedroom. Both men jumped and Tihwen even squeaked a bit.

 

The elf whirled around but froze when he found himself chin-to-point with Sloan’s dagger.

 

“My question is, why are you here? Tihwen assured me this cabin is only used for his father’s dalliances and no one else came here.”

 

“Erm…” the elf replied as Tihwen shouted, “No, it’s fine! This is Yek, he’s my friend!”

 

“You just broke out of prison, Tihwen. You are a fugitive and you could go back to prison for real if you are caught. How do you know your ‘friend’ here won’t alert the authorities the moment we leave?”

 

“He wouldn’t!” Tihwen protested at the same time the elf said, “I wouldn’t!”

 

“We’ve been friends since we were children,” the elf continued, his eyes locked on the blade.

 

“So answer my question. Why are you in this cabin?”

 

“Luthi lets me use it when he is away. It’s a nice quiet place to do my research.”

 

“What kind of research?”

 

“Alchemy. Please, Tihwen is my best friend. I would never do anything to hurt him.”

 

Sloan frowned but she didn’t have enough evidence to justify incurring Tihwen’s wrath by killing the loose end. “Fine.” She sheathed the dagger and took a half step back. “I hope your research is done, though, because you are coming with us.”

 

The elf nodded, then frowned and shook his head. “What? I can’t leave now! I am right in the middle of an experi…”

 

“Come with us or die. Those are your choices.”

 

“But surely!” Tihwen interjected. “Yek wouldn’t betray me!”

 

“Perhaps he wouldn’t. That doesn't mean he wouldn’t betray me.”

 

“But…”

 

“No, Ti, it’s all right.” The elf took a deep breath. “She’s right. I mean,” he hastened to add, “she’s not right that I would betray either of you. I would never! Especially since you saved Ti’s life. But I understand your caution. Besides, my research isn’t nearly as important as helping Ti.”

 

The elf stood straight, then bowed to Sloan. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Yeknyaw̃fwi rõ Pintaw̃sa, but most non-Altmer seem to have trouble pronouncing that, so you may just call me Yek.”

 

“Nyopfef ekwi, Yeknyaw̃fwi.” Sloan returned the bow. “Ěfwe rees nuupfawːmě yĩs tsaw̃ tsẽnunye.”

 

The clearly startled elf let out a short laugh. “You know Altmer?”

 

Sloan smiled. “Only a portion. Like your research, my language studies were unexpectedly interrupted. Now, we need to get as far away from the Rift as possible. Everyone around here is going to recognize Tihwen, so we’ll need to disguise him.”

 

“Ooh!” Tihwen clapped his hands. “Like in a spy novel!”

 

“Exactly. There should be a cache of makeup here for your father’s dalliances. I can…”

 

Yek cleared his throat. “If it is a disguise you want, I have something better than any amount of makeup.”

 

He moved to a chest placed against the wall, shoved some papers and assorted discarded clothes off, and opened it. Sloan gripped the dagger, watchful for any sign the elf might try to pull out a weapon, but after some rummaging, Yek withdrew a vial filled with a murky green liquid.

 

“Here we are!”

 

Tihwen stared at the vial and his voice turned from eager to hesitant. “What…what is that?”

 

“My greatest triumph so far! I have made a killing with this.” Yek stood and handed the vial to Tihwen, then leaned forward and added in a dramatic tone, “It changes your gender!”

 

“What?!” Sloan and Tihwen said in unison, but clearly for opposite reasons.

 

Sloan’s mind immediately jumped to all the infiltration possibilities such a potion would provide. One of the most difficult things to do was pass for a man – there was only so much makeup and (very) tight undergarments could do.

 

Tihwen, on the other hand, blanched and tried to hand the vial back. “Are you mad? I don’t want to be a woman!”

 

“It isn’t permanent. It only lasts for a month or so.”

 

“A whole month?!”

 

Sloan shook her head at Tihwen. “Being a woman isn’t that bad, although you men seem intent on making it as difficult as possible. A month would give us plenty of time to get out of the Rift.”

 

“But…”

 

Yek pushed the hand clutching the vial back toward its owner. “Don’t worry, your body will look like a woman’s but you will still be yourself.”

 

“But…”

 

Sloan added, “It’s either this or hide under a bale of hay in the back of a wagon until we get away from the area.”

 

“But I get allergic smelling hay!”

 

Sloan smiled. “Then this should be an easy choice.”

 

“It is! I’ll take the sneezing and itchy rash!”

 

Yek leaned forward again. “Just think, an entire month of getting to touch boobs as much as you want!”

 

Tihwen perked up. “That’s true!”

 

“See? Everything has an upside! Drink up!”

 

Sloan shook her head as the suddenly enthusiastic Tihwen pulled out the stopper, lifted the vial like a toast, and quaffed it. Men, at their core, were very basic creatures with very basic motivations. A little flash of skin and a husky voice were more effective than any number of knives, something she apparently had forgotten along the way. She mentally returned Tihwen’s toast and murmured, “Thank you for the reminder.” It was a lesson she was determined not to forget again.

 

 

 

* Good morning, Yeknyaw̃fwi. May your branch never fail.

 

 

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