Episode 3: An Invitation

  Chapter 5

  Karl had disappeared somewhere. Jonus, Julien, and Jeval argued about what to do next.

  "Maybe Karl just screwed up the delivery. Maybe that bug musk was real!" Julien hadn't quite given up on the idea.

  Jeval sniffed in disapproval. "No way. Karl's always full of it."

  Jonus settled it. "Even if it was real, we're not creeps like he is. We don't need some crappy perfume. But we still gotta do something!"

  "So we just all ask her out now?" Julien wondered.

  Jeval wasn't satisfied. "But which of us gets her?"

  "That's up to her," Jonus said. "Look, if none of us gets her, some other guy will, so we better make a move! There she is now, headed toward the refreshments!"

  Sure enough, Quinn was walking toward the drinks table, so graceful that she seemed to hover above the floor, her feet untainted by its dust.

  Jonus got there first, cutting in front of her. "Hey, Quinn! Do you want me to get some wine for you?"

  He'd scarcely finished when Julien made his pitch. "I'll get you two goblets of wine!"

  Jeval stood on his tiptoes to be seen over his friends. "I'll get you three!"

  Quinn's irresistible lips turned up in a goddess's smile.

  "Hmm, I guess you could get me some water," she said.

  Immediately, all three rushed to the table. Julien lunged, only to be blocked by a quick parry from Jonus. Agile Jeval darted in and grabbed a clay flask, light fingered hands closing around the neck, only to have Julien pull it out of reach. Julien grunted in pain as Jonus stepped on his foot and grabbed the flask.

  Jonus spun around on his heel, dropping on one knee and holding it out.

  "Here you go!"

  "No fair!" Jeval bellowed.

  "That should've been me!" Julien insisted.

  But their goddess had already picked up the flask and raised it to the pink bow of her lips. She gave a contented sigh of satisfaction as all three watched in awe.

  "That was nice. Now I'm hungry. Who wants to get me a snack?"

  Again, all three volunteered.

  *********

  "Let's see," Daria said, as her headache worsened. "So far, I've inadvertently insulted at least three local notables, including the host, and completely alienated a fourth."

  "All in a night's work," Jane said. Her cheerful tone belied her furrowed brow and tense jawline.

  Daria knew she hadn't actually done anything to help her friend. Social niceties always eluded her; their rules as inconstant as quicksilver. Easier by far to focus on the facts of history and geography and law, which only changed slowly and through proper channels. Somewhere in the distance, Daria heard Quinn's high-pitched and delicate laughter, the kind she practiced in front of the mirror and not the lower-toned laugh she made when she actually found something funny. Never hard for her to play a role. Hopefully, Quinn's efforts would make up for Daria's failures.

  "Hey, what about Jolda?" Jane pointed at the Redguard girl, who was chatting with the legion officer she'd been sitting next to.

  Daria had avoided Jolda, too embarrassed at having barely said a word to her over dinner. But with the night coming to a close, she needed to try. "What do you know about her?"

  "Her parents are both wealthy." Jane stepped in close, her raspy voice lowering to a whisper. "There's a rumor that her dad has a charter to tinker with Dwemer artifacts."

  "Okay, that's actually legitimately impressive."

  Jane stepped back. "Don't ask her about it, though."

  Daria decided to try. She was almost at the end of her rope, though. Worse, her cumbersome robe was practically cooking her in the now hot and crowded feast hall, its air dense with droning conversation and alcoholic fumes. How could anyone network in this kind of environment?

  She reached Jolda and paused for an awkward moment of silence before speaking. "I didn't properly introduce myself earlier," she said, her words flat and quick. "I'm Daria Morgendorffer."

  "Jolda at-Armand," she said. "Your family seems really nice."

  "Don't worry, it's a facade. They're as venal as everyone else in Balmora," Daria remarked, her tongue outpacing her brain. Instantly, she realized her own stupidity, red blooming across her cheeks. "Uh, sorry, can we forget I said that?"

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  Jolda laughed. "It's okay. The corruption here is pretty galling."

  Daria relaxed. This might not be so bad after all.

  "I'm Maiko," the officer said, with a curt nod. "Agent of the Imperial Legion."

  "He's stationed in Moonmoth Legion Fort," Jolda explained, "attached to the diplomatic corps."

  "That last bit's why they sometimes let me out to mingle with the locals. Sure beats another night in the barracks!"

  "He's my escort for the evening, but we've met a few times before," Jolda added, her eyes furtively darting back to her parents, who were engaged in discussion with Sedrane.

  "Uh, great," Daria said. "So what do you do in Balmora?"

  Jolda took on a thoughtful mien. "I keep a relatively busy schedule. In addition to my historical and legal research at Drenlyn Academy, I'm an intern at the East Empire Company and a guest scholar at the Balmora Mage's Guild. When I have time, I go down to Moonmoth and help out at the Imperial Cult chapel."

  Daria nodded. "I like to read," she said.

  "Me too. What are some of your favorite books?"

  "I liked the works of Zylmoc Golge growing up. Something about entombing people alive just sits right with me." Daria tensed at the last moment, realizing her faux pas. Golge wasn't a respectable writer. But Jolda smiled.

  "You have an interesting sense of humor," she said. "But yeah, I like Golge, too. 'Chance's Folly' is one of my favorites, even if it is pretty dark."

  Still a little anxious, Daria decided to change the subject. "The Dunmer you see next to me is Jane, a skilled artist." Daria took a deep breath. How was this going to work? Jolda didn't seem to like the hypocrisy that was in vogue, and Jane's art was anything but an honest portrayal. "My family hired her to capture our likenesses at dinner. You can, uh, see for yourself."

  Daria heard her own words falling flat as she spoke. Dammit, Jane deserved better! And the painting was magnificent in technical terms, especially considering the time constraints. But Jane had already stepped up with her finished canvas, showing it to her new audience.

  "That's amazing!" Jolda said, admiring the work.

  But did Jolda mean that? Hadn't she just complained about corruption? Daria's headache got worse, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Noise and the distortion of her lenses made for a nasty combination. The three cups of rice wine probably hadn't helped either.

  "I've done some work for the Morgendorffers before, along with the Hastiens, Clanlers, and others," Jane continued. "So if you need anyone painted, I'm your gal."

  Jolda met Jane's gaze. "My dad's always saying he wants a good artist to paint his portrait, so I'll let him know."

  "Please do! I'm at Drenlyn Academy, so just let me know when he's ready."

  They talked for a bit longer, Jane leading the conversation as Daria's headache deepened. Maiko didn't talk as much, other than saying that bulky Moonmoth Legion Fort, east of Balmora, was pretty boring.

  "Speaking as a soldier, I guess boring is better than the alternative. Besides, Balmora's got its charms, and I get sent here more often than most."

  Finally, they drifted apart. Daria's head was pounding, as if she'd skipped past inebriation and straight into the hangover. Parties had that effect on her.

  "That went well," Jane said.

  "How did it go for you?"

  "Maybe she'll tell her dad, maybe she won't. There aren't many guarantees with this sort of thing."

  "Was I able to help or not?" Daria asked.

  "You helped some. Now I'm better known. And you gave me the best dinner I've had in years."

  Daria had forgotten all about the leftovers.

  "You still need one more connection," Jane said.

  "No," Daria said. "I made two. I'm counting Maiko."

  "I'm pretty sure your mom wanted you to make two rich friends," Jane said.

  "Sure, Maiko's rich. He's rich in the discipline and spirit of the military that's protected the Empire's hegemonic ambitions for so many centuries. And if mom's bothered by that, she can take it up with the emperor."

  Daria leaned against the wall. She took off her glasses and rubbed her aching temples with her free hand. This pair definitely wasn't as good as her old one.

  "Gee, Daria, are you okay?"

  Daria blinked at the telltale squeak of Briltasi's voice. She searched the haze of her vision.

  "Briltasi's a little to your left, Daria," Jane said.

  Grunting, Daria gave up and put her heavy, painful glasses back on, the world lurching back into focus. "Hi, Briltasi. I'm actually not feeling that great."

  "Hmm. You could go up to my room and lie down for a while. You're not going to get... sick or anything, are you?"

  "No, I think I just need some quiet."

  Briltasi reached into her sleeve and took out a metal key, offering it to Daria. "Here. My room's upstairs, first door on the left. Make sure you lock it when you go in. I don't want anyone else going in there."

  Daria realized that, whether she'd intended to or not, she had made another connection. Briltasi might not be the brightest, but she was friendly. That counted for a lot in Morrowind.

  "Thank you," she said, bowing slightly and then taking the key. "By the way, did you see my friend's art?" Daria asked, pointing at Jane's canvas.

  Briltasi blinked. "Why would I look at a menial's—oh wow, that's so pretty!" A guileless smile brightened Briltasi's face. "Did you do that tonight?" she asked.

  "Sure did!" Jane said, flashing a grateful smile at Daria. "You like Imperial-style art?"

  "I do! My stepmom likes it too, but my dad doesn't."

  "Do you and your stepmom have any financial independence?" Jane asked.

  "Huh?"

  "Would you two be able to pay me if I painted a picture of you?"

  "Sure! You even figured out how to make Daria look pretty, so I can't wait to see how you make us look. You should meet my stepmom!" Briltasi said, grabbing Jane by the forearm.

  "Have fun," Daria said. Satisfied with having helped her friend, she wove through the crowd to the hallway that led deeper into the manor, the key pressed against her sweaty palm.

  *********

  "Did Serjo Talori give you permission to be here?" the glowering Dunmer servant demanded.

  Still with his partially empty bottle of bug musk, and a new layer of sweat on his skin, Karl the Unctuous made an indignant sniff from his hiding place next to a mostly full clay washtub in a damp storage room.

  "I don't think Serjo Talori would care for his menials interfering with the son of a key business partner," Karl said, raising his nose in the air. "Of course, as long as you respect my privacy, I'll keep silent about your little breach of etiquette."

  The servant grumbled but walked off, leaving Karl alone. His mind turned back to matters of alchemy: ingredients, portions, and mixtures. None outside of Great House Telvanni and maybe the Zafirbel Bay Company knew exactly what went into bug musk. Well, other than bugs and musk, but which bugs and whose musk?

  He reached into his pocket and took out the ingredients he'd nicked from the kitchen: kreshweed fibers, sweetpulp, and an ash yam. This probably isn't a good idea, he thought. But how could he know unless he tried? Maybe he'd improve on the bug musk formula and, in so doing, make himself one of the wealthiest men in Tamriel!

  Standing up, he laid the ingredients and the bug musk next to the tub and prepared to make history.

  Musical Closer -