A Murder in Morrowind 11

The Temple

The next morning, I sat in the service of the Balmoran temple. It was a squat ugly building of stone and mortar, totally undecorated on the outside. Local dedicants made bows, touching their foreheads to the highly decorated carpets, and drew their Almsivi sign, drawn in the air from the top point down before chanting their prayers. Heavy incense perfumed the air, wafting in thick smoke clouds that hung around the rafters like bats. Dim candlelight just barely lit the long hall we inhabited, casting deep shadows that lurked ominously. In small rows were rugs and pillows for the religious.

I stood in the back and observed casually the proceedings, staying quiet out of respect and fear for my own skin. The Dunmer took their religion very seriously.

There must’ve been at least several hundred people here at the service. Nobles and peasants alike bowed down at regular intervals. I saw several people shake in a religious seizure, overcome by the “power” of the Tribunal; attendants stalked the aisles with pillows and water, to aid those gripped by religious fervor. Priests began to circulate themselves from a backroom to the front, introduced by young boys clothed in purdah who each gripped a trident tipped in gold, blue, and red candles. The priests were heavily clothed and elegantly at that; I could see where the temple fund was going, and it wasn’t the needy.

As the priests assembled into their holy order and began the service I spotted my target. Friune Hlera cycled in with his wife in tow, heading to the front of the altar towards their rightful place as High Priest and Priestess. They were clothed in heavy robes of many layers, primarily grey with hints of deep purple; her hair was pulled back and a thin veil was over it, his Mohawk was highly glossed and shone even in the dim candlelight. They made their way shortly and kneeled themselves on small pillows. As they did so Friune’s eyes caught mine and a look of sheer revulsion came over his face. He made his priestly sign as so did the others; I saw his wife glance at me with a startled look and make a curious sign, which I didn’t recognize.

I could bore you with the details of the service but suffice to say, you have to be at a Dunmer service to truly appreciate it. Let it be said that the Dunmer never did anything quickly, as I endured three hours of kneeling, praying, incense-lighting, droning prayers, and several rounds of collection baskets of which I somehow was conned into contributing too. I was thankful that this wasn’t one of their holy days, as those are known to last almost an entire day. I had stood by respectfully for hours and now I was ready for some answers.

When it was over I evaded and bullied my way past attendants and minor officials, bowling over many service-goers and thoroughly disrespecting their culture until I was finally forced my way into the back room of the temple. This one was well-lit, as opposed to the hall, and filled with comfy looking chairs and couches, more than what the religious had been given in their service. Several priests enjoyed honeyed wine and small cakes before taking notice of me, crumbs spitting from their mouths as they mumbled protest.

I ignored them and made a bee-line for my target. Friune Hlera barely had time to turn around before I was on him. I stopped and brushed off the lower priests who had followed me, protesting the whole way.

“Ready to talk now Hlera?” I asked strongly, “It appears your time of mourning has come to an end.”

“It appears it has…” He waved the others away, save his wife, “Then ask your questions Imperial and be done with it. I’ve grown tired of you.”

“Very well then,” I said, “I’ll cut to the chase. You wanted to hire the Morag Tong didn’t you?”

“I…I most certainly did not!” He was taken aback by my questions. Several priests started to cry out in protest but a sharp look from Friune silenced them. The mood in the room shifted; several fellow priests were pretending not to listen and failing.

“I’m in no mood to play games priest!” I raised my voice in anger and produced the letter, “This is your handwriting. That’s not a question either.”

Friune glanced at his wife who looked away from deferentially. I noticed that the bruise on her cheek was healing. I also too noticed that her veil and under robes were black. “Mourning clothes?” I thought, but said nothing. “Why would she still be wearing mourning clothes?”

“Fine then Inquisitor,” He said with a huff. “I tried to hire the Tong and failed. Which is not a crime in Morrowind even if they had accepted! Now leave! You have no jurisdiction here.”

“I do,” I said, “When it comes to the murder of an Imperial Agent.”

“Agent!” Renara cried, “He never said he was an agent!”

Friune shot her a dirty look and she covered her mouth in shame. I didn’t let that one slip and pressed her immediately.

“Since when did you ever speak to him? You told me earlier you had never spoken to him?” I noticed that her hands twitched slightly, but she stopped short. Friune gripped her arm in what was supposed to be a loving embrace but it clearly hurt.

“I must admit that my wife tried to take pity on him. He confessed his sins and asked for forgiveness. He told her everything.” Friune said quickly, “When I expressed to him that an Imperial has no place in the true faith he then took it out on her.”

“But you told me earlier that you had no idea why he struck her?” I countered just as quickly. He stopped and considered his answer for a moment before speaking.

“I was ashamed of her,” Friune said bitterly and put an arm around her. Once again her hands twitched. “Women are such weak creatures and I felt it shouldn’t be common knowledge.”

I saw that several priests around us were listening in closely and kept their faces tightly neutral. I got the feeling that this was a shameful thing for them, both the Tong assassination contract and his wife’s conduct. Friune’s face was strained and a bead of sweat grew on his brow. His hands rose and he toyed with the large gold amulet at his neck. The amulet was thick, in the shape of a scarab and had a large ruby in the center of it. The chain was a series of connected gold plates, about two or three inches in length per each link.

“That’s a new amulet you have there.” I said and fingered it. He slapped my hand away and I could tell by the gasps that I had offended many here. “Didn’t you say you lost yours?”

“I…I did!” He said as quietly as he could, but there were more astonished gasps. Apparently that was a big deal for them. “I’ve borrowed my wife’s...”

“Your wife’s?” I looked at her and I saw her starting a sign before abandoning it when my gaze reached her. She was acting very shifty and her eyes looked everywhere but my own. I observed her eyes welling with tears when I looked at her. She was avoiding me.

“You’re acting strangely Mrs. Hlera,” I said and reached out to grasp her hand. She shuddered and stepped back quickly and ignored me. “What is that sign she’s making?”

“A warding one,” Friune didn’t let her speak, “One to protect from evil. You specifically.”

“Me?” I said with mock concern, “Why, I’m as gentle as a lamb!”

“She’s quite afraid of Imperials, Inquisitor,” Friune said disgusted and stepped between us. “Ever since the incident. Now, is there anything else you want or do you intend to terrorize my wife some more?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is.” I said. I took a wrapped package from my cloak and handed it to him. He frowned and accepted it before unwrapping. The look on his face was priceless. From smug to saturnine in seconds. Crestfallen, he held the dagger the dagger in his trembling hands. His expression and demeanor all but confirmed that the dagger belonged to him.

“I’ve proof that this is yours,” I lied, “Don’t you dare deny it. Witnesses saw you throw this knife in a nearby gutter.”

“I…” He began and trailed off. “I’m ashamed to say that…yes…yes I did.”

I smiled at that. He had fallen for a simple trap. Tell your subject you know something you only suspect them of, and wait for them to confirm it themselves.

“I’ll ask you priest,” I growled, “Did you murder Cassius Aurelius?”

“I did not!!!” He replied shrilly. Several priests around us mimed the same, but I could see the hunger in their eyes. Morrowind was a country of politics, and the game was played even here in the temple.

No doubt some of them saw an opportunity for a change in leadership. Already I had disgraced Friune, and I knew that in just this past few minutes his place in the temple was now diminished in their eyes.

“I purchased this knife years ago.” He defended himself, “When you came to seem me I knew it could be used against me! So I tried to get rid of it!”

“I don’t believe you!” I attacked, “What would an innocent man have to hide?! The blade is chipped in the same manner that wounded Cassius!”

“Please Inquisitor,” He motioned for me to lower my voice, “That blade is old, no more than a display piece I bought years ago. Most likely it chipped when it struck the gutter!”

“Liar!” I slit my eyes. “You tried to hide this dagger, you hid your wife’s relation to Cassius, and you’ve lied about the amulet! What’re you hiding from me Fri-“

I began to pull out a length of rope to bind and arrest him, but suddenly my knees were kicked out from the back. I gave a cry as I hit my head against the floor, and a dozen pair of hands began to drag me. It was a group of loyalist apostles, followers of Friune who did not appreciate my dressing down of him.

I wrestled and twisted in their grip and tried to speak, but a booted foot caught me in the ribs and I lost all of my breath. Gasping I witnessed Friune turn towards his wife and say something, but I was already too far to hear them. She made the warding sign with her hands and he barked out something harsh and grabbed them before she could complete it.

Out the backroom and through the hall a group of very angry Dunmer priests carried me, and with the hoots of approval from the remaining congregation I was thrown out in the rain and landed face first in a puddle of mud. Not for the first time in my life either.

I wiped the mud off as best I could and sat upright. Rain came down harder than ever and lightning cracked the sky. Several drunks laughed at me and a few passersby’s sadistically kicked more mud at me. I did nothing. There was nothing to do.

I merely picked myself up, slacked off as much mud as I could and I went for shelter underneath a nearby overhang. I knew that this was not the end. Friune had just become suspect number one on my list. Motive, lying to me, unaccounted for time, and proof that he had tried to hide evidence. A case was building, and with Deerkethus’s help I knew that I could crack this case. Faerdae was still a viable suspect, but in my gut I knew Friune was still hiding something.

“Gan,” Deerkethus’s voice called out to me.

I turned and saw him stalking towards me, two guards in tow. I grinned. He must be psychic because this is exactly what I needed to see right now. I waved at him and motioned that we were to go into the temple. He kept his face straight and impassive, and that’s when I noticed something was wrong.

“I’m sorry friend Gan…” He said, and that’s when the bag was thrown over my head.