A Murder in Morrowind 6

The Wood Elf

We stepped into the place where the muck of society congregated in solidarity and called themselves outcasts and thieves. A place known as the Balmora South Wall Cornerclub.

Dust and dirt covered every surface, muck and mud caked the floor tiles along with whatever filth had fallen on the floor; the smell was beyond anything describable, and I recalled of poor Cassius’s rotten corpse.

The patrons of this den of filth were perfectly suited for this environment; unwashed and ill-looking at worst and at best they all but announced themselves to thieves and brigands. Some of them I thought to be in the late stages of Ataxia or Blight-Heart, and one individual caked in makeup I knew to be in the early stages of the Vvardenfell Blight. In the corner, a man and woman copulated openly.

By comparison, the Eight Plates was a vision of the White-Gold Tower itself. I gripped my gladius tightly, thankful for my presence of mind to bring it. Most people eyed me and the Argonian suspiciously, many of them moving out of the way and whispering among themselves. More than a few promptly made their way to the door, despite sharp glances from Deerkethus. I knew he’d be reporting their names to his master upon his return.

Faerdae Hircite sat in the very back, smoking deep from a curious looking pipe. He was of an average height and unremarkable looks. Pedestrian in every way from his stringy brown hair to his chestnut colored skin. He exhaled the smoke in a huge ring and leaned back with a glazed look in his eyes. I knew he was high. He all but ignored our approach until we were nearly upon him; his eyes focused lazily and he frowned.

“What do you need?” He eyed my gladius warily and glanced at Deerkethus.

“Faerdae Hircite?” I said, knowing that it was him. Deerkethus had provided me a thorough description.

“Aye yes that’s me.” He leaned forward, “Are you looking to buy anything?”

“Faerdae, do you happen to know an Imperial by the name of Cassius?” Deerkethus asked cautiously. We had agreed that I, being the outsider, would be the bad guy in this encounter.

“Cassius? No, I can’t say that I do.” He grinned and leaned back. “I don’t deal with his kind too much here in Balmora.”

“Well you’re dealing with me now.” I growled, “We’ve been asking around about you. Let me ask you another question. Where’s that slave you were peddling recently?”

“Slave!?” He said with mock ignorance, “I would never! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

“But sera,” Deerkethus said coolly, “We have several reliable witnesses that say you were seen in the company of Khajit slave. Some even tried to buy it from you.”

“Well a slave would say that.” He said with venom, “But you’ve heard wrong friend. I don’t sell slaves and I’ve never heard of this Cassius.”

“Interesting. Because you were seen with him recently.” I said, “A lot. Don’t deny it Wood Elf, we have witnesses.”

“I deny everything.” He said and took a swig from his nearby mug with his left hand. “I say again, I don’t know this Cassius you speak of.”

He leaned his chair back against the wall after saying this and set his mug down with a smug expression on his face. I looked at Deerkethus who shrugged and nodded his head. This was my favorite part of being an Inquisitor. With a quick motion I grabbed the nearest leg of the chair and pushed, tipping him over; in the same motion I grabbed his mug and slammed it down, hard, on his left kneecap. That got his attention.

We gave him several minutes to howl in pain and clutch at his shattered knee. The bar was dead quiet and more than a few patrons left in a hurry. He howled and screamed bloodily for help, but his fellow drunks sat and sipped their libations and watched passively. Eventually his screams got annoying so I grabbed him by his hair and pulled back, revealing his throat to my very sharp and very close gladius.

“Wood Elf, I don’t think you appreciate your predicament.” I growled, “I am Inquisitor. I have full dispensation from our Emperor to administer justice as best I see fit. Which means I could spill your blood right here if I decided it would solve this case. It’s best that you alleviate my suspicions before I make up my mind.”

He gulped and nodded, mouth flapping wordlessly as he tried to summon the courage to speak. I could see that the haze in his beady black eyes had lifted.

“I understand!” He finally spat out. Deerkethus grabbed him roughly by his shoulders and pulled him up on his feet.

“Show us your room.” I asked, “We can talk privately in there.”

Several patrons gave us a wide berth as we went upstairs to the Cornerclub’s rooms. The elf was renting while he was in town; I wanted to see if he was hiding anything in there. The elf whimpered whenever he put pressure on that knee and Deerkethus gave me an accusing look. While it was true I had the right of law in this case, it only extended to matters directly pertaining Imperial interests. Killing the Elf without cause could’ve potentially landed me in a lot of trouble with the local guard. Not that the Elf knew that of course.

When we reached his room he fumbled with the keys in his left hand for a bit, giving us a reassuring smile as if to stall us, and finally he located the key and unlocked the room.

If it was possible to be dirtier then I would be extremely surprised. While the cornerclub was filthy, this room had apparently been hit by a twister composed of pure trash and shit. The Elf apparently didn’t place much stock in cleanliness.

Deerkethus knocked trash off a nearby chair and sat the Elf down while I walked around and pretended to be looking around absentmindedly. In reality I was trying scope out the room for any potential clues. A futile exercise as nothing could’ve been spotted in that clutter. Whether by design or accident, it prevented me from looking much further. I could’ve spent the entire day combing that trash, which would have left time for the murder’s trail to grow cold.

I took a deep breath instead and tried to identify the smells of that place. Musty clothing, rotting food and…skooma. I’d be willing to bet my testicles that sure enough, there was skooma brewed here, and recently too.

“Where were you the night of the 15th sera?” Deerkethus asked, keeping his well-kept clothing far away from any trash.

“I was here,” Faerdae grimaced through the pain, “I drank and smoked at the bar until about midnight. I then came into my room and slept till morning.”

“Do you have any witnesses who can attest to that?”

He looked around and stared at the floor. After a time he muttered a barely audible, “No.”

“And the slave?” Deerkethus pressed.

“Yeah, I had a slave. Got her as a trade for some artifacts. Pretty young thing, Khajit.”

I sneered and leaned in, if only to smell the skooma on his breath. “What happened to her? She’s not here evidently.”

“I sold her to a cloaked gentleman in an alley by the mage’s guild, about seven o’clock. For three-hundred septims. I had received a message that he wanted to meet me there that morning. That’s all I know, I swear.”

I nodded to Deerkethus who answered back. The description fit our victim a bit, and the place was the same; the time he mentioned was about two hours earlier than our victim’s death. If he was trying to hide his involvement in the murder, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Did you murder Cassius?” I asked flat out in an effort to mentally disarm him.

“Me?” He answered with wide eyes, “No! I swear after the deal I came right back to the bar and then straight to sleep!”

“Did you get a look at the individual you sold the slave too?” Deerkethus said with slit eyes.

“No, he was heavily cloaked. Please sera, I’m not a murderer!”

“Was it Cassius?” I asked.

“Most certainly not! I would never sell to an Imperial!”

“I don’t believe you Elf.” I said coolly and pulled my gladius out a bit. The Wood Elf yelped and put his hands up in defense.

“I swear! I’ll tell you anything, please! I don’t sell to Imperials slaves ever!!!”

He looked at Deerkethus pleadingly. Deerkethus in turn looked at me and nodded solemnly. The Elf was telling the truth.

“Did you ever sell him any skooma?”

“No I…I swear, never.”

“Don’t make me spill your blood here!” I pulled out my blade even further.

“I…I only smoke it!” He admitted through tears streaking his face, “I only smoke it!”

Deerkethus patted his shoulder comfortingly and gave me a sharp look. I slid my sword back into its scabbard, satisfied that I had scared him enough.

“Skooma consumption is a punishable offense.” Deerkethus says, “But we’re willing to look the other way if you’ll answer our questions.”

The Bosmer said nothing, but nodded and sniffled; he cradled his knee with tender hands. I had no doubt that a healer could fix him up, but I had no desire that one do so. I hated this meek little creature. Drug use is one thing, but as I’ve said, slavery is in a whole other world.

“You and the suspect were seen conversing several times the previous week.” Deerkethus said smoothly, “What was the contents of these conversations?”

“I procured a amulet for him. A tribunal one.” He said, “He said it was special, and that he was thinking of converting.”

“Special how?” I asked. The Bosmer shook his head.

“I don’t know. When I asked why he wanted it so badly he threatened me. Said he’d cut out my tongue!”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Yes, he wanted to know about the Morag Tong!” He said. Deerkethus shot me a quick look. “I told him that I didn’t know much about them, but there’s a guildhall here!”

“What did he want to know?”

“He asked if they had any ties to the Brotherhood,” Faerdae whimpered and began to shake violently, “I told him I’m too scared of both to ask too many questions.”

Deerkethus and I looked at each other. We had gathered quite a bit of information, but it was understood that we should back off for a little. He was clearly close to mentally breaking. Let the Bosmer sweat while he thinks we’re on his case. Besides, I still had some cards to play up my sleeve.

“If you’re thinking about leaving town,” I said as we left, “Don’t.”

Moments later we stepped outside, and I was almost immediately drenched. The rain beat against me just as hard as yesterday, and I welcomed it as a cleaning agent against what I had encountered in there.

“He’s lying.” Deerkethus said; He had lifted an umbrella over his head, to shield his precious clothes from the rain. “Witnesses say he came back around one in the morning, a few hours after the victim’s death.”

I nodded. Most suspicious. Faerdae was far from eliminated as suspect. Now we would watch him and see what his actions were in the next few days. Deerkethus motioned to a plain-clothes guard, who nodded and blended into the crowd. The guard would come and go from the cornerclub and keep an eye on Wood Elf friend.

“Didn’t we hear from your informants that he was with a prostitute that night?”

“He was, but as of so far we haven’t had any luck finding out which one.” He said, “At any rate, Faerdae will most likely be pretty tight-lipped to revealing the prostitute’s identity.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He’s gay.” Deerkethus shrugged, “Some of the more conservative people in Morrowind may find that…distasteful.”

“So what?” I asked, “His freedom and life could be on the line.”

“And if it got out that he was openly gay?” Deerkethus said, “The guard would be the least of his worries sera. Regardless, we know he’s lying about being alone.”

“Not only that.” I returned, “But he for sure deals skooma. Did you notice that smell? No way could he smoke all that himself.”

“Indeed Inquisitor,” Deerkethus folded his arms, “So what next? Do we wait and make an arrest?”

“No,” I answered, “Next we meet the priest and figure out his place in this murder.”

“The Bosmer said it was Cassius’s amulet,” Deerkethus said, “I see no reason to bother an upstanding priest…”

“You don’t.” I said, “And that’s what separates you and me Argonian. Question everything, rule number one of an Inquisitor.”

Deerkethus seemed off put by my insult. His eyes widened and his ears puffed up, but he said nothing and looked away while huffing slightly. I didn’t pay him any attention. My goal was to get this done with and quickly. Pissing off people was part of the job, and one that I enjoyed in its own way.

But Cassius returned to my mind. The conversion theory was gaining ground, now that I had another witness. And another allusion to his temper. While he was in the legion I knew him as calm and even-tempered; he was never given to outburst of rage or anger. What had caused this shift in his attitude? What does this city do to people?

I took a swig from my flask, feeling the burning in the back of my throat. I capped it and pushed myself deep into crowd, the filth of Balmora, and headed towards the temple.