Chapter Forty Four

Gaeolin let out a grumble as they made their way out of the city gates. The sun was shining with an overabundance of energy this morning, which might have been problematic were it not for Bai’lira’s efforts to shade his skin. He was covered completely, only his eyes showing behind the face mask and hood she had made him wear. 

“Do not complain. Would you rather burst into flame, hmm?” She scolded, clearly enjoying his discomfort in some way. “Besides, your face is… How should she say it? Distressing to the ill prepared.”

Auroth cracked a smile. “Yeah, I’d hate for you to scare that Import and Excise officer into a heart attack.”

Inigo giggled while the bosmer rolled his eyes. “Come on then, let’s get this over with. I have no idea where we’re going.”

As the party came to the steps down to the docks, they were met with a sight that put them on edge. Off the pier drifted the ship, it’s mast crooked and sails torn by either a storm or an attack. There were sailors and East Empire workers on the docks readying boats to row out to the vessel. One longboat tied up, having come from the ship with wounded.

Gaeolin rushed forward to help, finding the first person he could to question. “What in Oblivion happened?”

“We don’t know for sure.” The man responded. He handed him a potion, pointing to the wounded men already lying on the pier. “We suspect pirates raided the ship, as it was coming from the Imperial City. Must have thought it was a weapons shipment for the garrison. The captain is in bad shape. He’s been sent up to the temple already, but I don’t think the priests will be able to do anything to save him. His head was nearly cut from his shoulders.”

Gaeolin poured the elixir into the mouths of one of the men, grimacing at the cuts on his chest and legs. Auroth stood above two more, each hand healing one of them as he muttered the restoration incantations. Bai’lira and Inigo pitched in with potions of their own, or by helping carry more injured off the boats. 

“What of the cargo?” Bai’lira asked. “Is it intact? Where is the harbormaster? This one had expensive goods coming in on this ship. ALchemical reagents of extreme rarity.”

Gaeolin thought to scold her, but the man he had been tending to grabbed his sleeve. He pulled him closer, his voice weak.

“It was her… The Green Leaf Marauders…” He coughed, making his wounds start bleeding anew. Gaeolin found another potion, removing the stopper to help the man drink it. Auroth came over, the glow from his hands helping the gashes scab over with much greater ease. Gaeolin knelt closer to him.

“Where can we find her? Where does she berth her ship?”

“I-I don’t know… They were sailing toward the east. Maybe Dawnstar, or Windhelm. The Marauders usually strike between those ports. I’ve never known them to sail this far west before…” He fell silent, falling into a sleep of injury. Gaeolin laid his head on the bedroll, hoping that their questioning had not set him back on his journey to recovery. 

“Green Leaf Marauders?” Auroth mused. “A strange name for a band of pirates.”

“The Nurog has been a plague on the sea of Ghosts for several years now.” A man approached them, a set of scrolls under his arm and a worried face. The last known captain of the ship was a rather young wood elf with a nasty reputation. He normally avoided Imperial ships. I wonder what has changed to inspire this.”

Gaeolin stood to greet him. “Are you the harbormaster?”

The man shook his head, the response by his neck showing that he was definitely better off than the average dock worker. “Oh no! Forgive me, I got ahead of myself. I am Aushric Malcaeus. I serve Jarl Elisif as the national Import and Excise officer. Not a ship moors in this port that I haven’t inspected. General Tulius was irate that this ship left port before the troops he requested, but commerce must not stop.” He looked out to the ship. “Unfortunately, there will be a considerable loss if this shipment is missing too much.”

Gaeolin bit back his reinforcement of that thought. “Has there been any word on what cargo is still aboard? We have goods that were due to arrive on this vessel.”

He spared them more attention. “And your name, sir?”

“I am Gaeolin of Woodhearth, Thane of Whiterun. The goods were ordered by my companion, Bai’lira.”

She pushed her way forward. “The herbs this one ordered are of dire importance to the people of Morthal, sir. Bai’lira would appreciate it if you could verify that they were not stolen. The cost of the goods was extreme. Certainly enough to merit reimbursement should they be missing.”

Her words made his portly face flush. He stammered as he responded. “Now madam, the East Empire Company would be better suited to handle such claims. Skyrim’s Import and Excise office can not be held responsible for guaranteeing shipment of goods.”

“By your own admission,” she continued, “the government has been aware of these cut throats, and has failed to ensure safe shipping lanes. Bai’lira thinks this type of management failure may reinforce Stormcloak sympathies if she were to inform Lady Idgrod that the High Queen does not find her people worthy of her efforts to protect and provide for them.”

Auroth, Inigo, and Gaeolin stared at her, amazed that she would even say such a thing with Imperial guards so close at hand. The Excise officer however, caved at her threats. “No need to be hasty. I will send some men to check the manifest and take inventory. I will send a runner to the Winking Skeever with news of your delivery. If it comes up missing, we will discuss what must be done.” He waddled away, looking back with a kind of fear that can only be felt by those of political inclination. Gaeolin sent her a concerned look.

“Are you really going to stir up Stormcloak support over this?”

She shrugged. “No. But he does not know that I have no interest in the civil unrest of his country. At any rate, this will ensure we learn the state of the bloodgrass as quickly as possible. You three go on to the Inn. Bai’lira has other matters to attend to before we hear back from our dear friend Aushric.” 

Inigo made to argue, but Auroth steered him to obey. “Trust me. I Think we would rather not know what she’s doing.” 

As it turned out, Bai’lira did not take very long in completing her business at the port. By the time they had finished a midday meal, she was with them, acting as though they had never been apart. The four spent the day swapping stories with the patrons, Inigo asking the bard if she knew any songs about spiders, obviously prepared to recite his own until Gaeolin pointed out that they were near, but not at the bards college. 

“We could stop by, if you wanted.” Inigo offered. I have a few songs I would like to sing for you all if we do.”

Gaeolin wondered how late the college would allow visitors. He was not prepared to go out in the sun again unless absolutely needed. “Later in the night, maybe. For now, let’s wait here.” He perked up, seeing Bai’lira once again produce the bottle of wine they had shared last night. 

They drank together as the hours passed. Auroth tried the wine, commenting that to him, it was rather dry, but tasted good. He compared it to Cyrodiilic Brandy, but with less kick. Inigo countered that he had never before tasted anything liquid that was flavored like a sweet roll. Auroth was not as fearful as Gaeolin, asking Bai’lira to list the ingredients that she used. Fortunately, she was stopped by a boy who ran up to her with a note. 

“Excuse me, Ma’am? I was told to deliver this to you. It’s from the Excise Office.” He looked at her, seeming confused by her. She smiled, setting the note down. 

“Have you not seen Khajiit before, young master?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I’ve seen the caravans. But you two are different.” He pointed at Inigo. “I’ve never seen blue or green ones before.”

“I will admit, we are not a common sight, here or anywhere else in the world.” Inigo chimed in. “But that is part of what keeps the world a mystery. You never know who you will meet, or what you will see. The most important thing is to be willing to accept uniqueness when it comes around.”

“Yes, to be different is no curse.” Bai’lira agreed. “Some are different because the Gods made them so.” She nodded to Inigo. “Others, because the world has changed them from what they were.” She put her hand on her chest. “And still others change because they wish it. But these changes do not overly matter. Judge no one by their appearance, or their race, or their mate. Judge them by how they treat those around them. Now, how much does Bai’lira owe you for the delivery… What was your name, child?”

He seemed surprised by the questions. “Kayd, miss. And there’s no need. Aushric already took care of that.”

“How much did he pay you?” She asked, a little more forceful.

“Um… Well, he didn’t actually give me any money. He pays the Innkeeper to give me a place to sleep. It’s enough for me. Corpulus usually lets me have the leftover food too.”

Bai’lira scowled, letting a soft hiss. “These nords are intolerable! Not even paying for honest work… And to keep a kit from having proper food!” She rummaged in her bag, producing a purse. “Here, you take this. It is about twenty-five Septims. Buy yourself a new shirt and some fresh food, child. Alkosh smile upon you.” Kayd seemed unwilling to believe she was serious. His mouth turned to a wide grin.

“Thank you! Aw, I can finally get a new pair of boots!” He rushed to the stairs, turning to thank her at least three more times before leaving. 

“So, you can be kind.” Gaeolin teased.

“He was young, and deserves better than he has received.” She looked down at her glass. “Many men are in pain because at his age, no one had the kindness to spare them.” She did not wait for a response, instead opening the letter. Her face came to an even deeper state of fury than it had before. “Dorr ari di Merrunz!” She tossed it down in the center of the table. “The fat tax collector sends only bad news. The herbs are not there, they were among the stolen goods. A thousand curses on those pirates!”

All sat frozen at the news. Gaeolin slumped back in his seat, not even sure if he could be surprised by setbacks anymore. Auroth rested his forehead against his knuckles. Inigo looked as though he were counting how much gold he had lost on this venture. Muttering under his breath, “That could have been so many arrows…”

Gaeolin turned to look out across the dining room below. “Now what will we do?”

Bai’lira sent him a withering glare. “What manner of question is this?!” She stood abruptly. “What are we going to do? We are going to go to Dawnstar and get those ingredients back from the dirty salt backs! But first, I have a bone to pick with our heavy civic worker.”