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It was early morning when I left the sewers near the Imperial Prison. I went straight to the beach and swam underwater through the bay to avoid being seen from the shore. I emerged at the edge of the Waterfront, in a secluded part of the harbour. I waited in the sun until I was dry and made my way through deserted alleys to my destination, a small tavern called "The Xameer". It was run by a Saxhleel named Kexu, one of the few friends I had in this city. His establishment was mostly frequented by Saxhleel and Khajiit, as we were barred from most bars owned by Men and Mers. It was a typical building from the poorer parts of the Imperial capital, made of several different types of wood, with a small sign hanging from a steel frame above the door, proudly proclaiming the tavern's name in Jel, Ta'agra, but interestingly not in Cyrodilic, the common language. The door was made of dark green wood and carved with symbols representing many different Saxhleel tribes or animals native to the Black Marsh, as well as a few Khajiit representations of Masser and Secunda. In the centre was a symbol that was a much lighter colour than the rest of the door because of the many times people had put their fingers on it. It represented a hist tree. Every Saxhleel, no matter where they came from, knew this symbol and held the Hist in the highest regard. I ran a few fingers over the symbol, polishing it a little more, and said a quick prayer to the Hist and the ancestors before opening the door and stepping inside.

The small room was deserted. At this time of day, all the Saxhleels were out fishing or unloading crates with the Khajiits. Kexu was behind the counter, arranging bottles of various alcoholic drinks on shelves, and when he saw me, he waved me over in a slightly theatrical gesture. He was small, at least for an Argonian. His scales were green, turning grey towards his extremities and around his snout, a sign of aging. At sixty-one, he was ripe, true, but not exactly old. His life's hardships had aged him prematurely, and it didn't take a genius to guess what they were. He wore a white linen shirt with an open collar, revealing his neck where you could see the distinctive discolouration of the scales caused by years of wearing a tight metal collar. He had the same marks on his wrists, this time caused by metal cuffs. These were the distinguishing marks of a former slave. Many of the Saxhleels who frequented this establishment had them, after all, slave raids were the most common reason for a Saxhleel to live outside the Marsh. Some, like Kexu, made no effort to hide these marks, wearing them as a badge of pride, even if it meant more stigma from Mers and Mens. It was an interesting idea, a brave one, but not one I subscribed to. I hid my own marks. I limped over to the bar and sat down on a stool opposite him.

"Hello marsh-friend.

-Hi Kexu. I'll take some Flin, please."

-Of course."

He turned around and grabbed a bottle from a shelf behind him, filled a glass and handed it to me. I drank it all in one gulp. Flin is a type of strong whisky made in Morrowind that I've grown fond of. It had a way of making you feel pleasantly warm, no matter what the temperature. And it helped ease the excruciating pain in my back. Kexu watched me drink in silence, and when I finished he spoke.

"Are you all right? You're a sight for sore eyes.

-That bad, huh?

-Yes, that bad. I had no idea Saxhleels could be so pale.

-Well, I've had a busy evening.

-Yeah, I'm sure you did. I heard there was a fight in the Arboretum last night. Do you know anything about it?"

I didn't answer. Kexu chuckled and continued to work. He pulled out a chopping board and started cutting up some lime. I had no idea where he found lime in the Imperial City, since it grew far away from here, but I wasn't too surprised. He could get his hands on any ingredient you asked for, provided you gave him enough coin. And he had no connection with the Thieves' Guild, which was a great asset in my current predicament. If Arnault had really turned against me, he would have paid his many friends in the Guild to tip him off if I turned up, which was likely. After all, they offered many services that would be useful to someone looking for a discreet way out of the city. But with his considerable wealth, consolidated by Varron's in the event of an alliance, it would be impossible to outbid them. Kexu was my best option. Because of their bigotry, most of the Mens and Mers didn't even think about setting up networks among the "beastfolk". This was certainly true of Arnault. He may have appreciated what a useful tool I was, but in the end that was all I was to him, a tool. As for Varron, well, to call him a racist would be quite a euphemism. Any Saxhleel unfortunate enough to cross his path was in danger. And so it was highly unlikely that Arnault, Varron or their friends in the Thieves' Guild would attempt to approach Kexu. Even if they had, Kexu wouldn't have told them about me. He'd found out what I was a long time ago, but that didn't worry me. Shadowscales were highly respected in Saxhleel society, and Kexu, though a shrewd businessman, was a traditionalist at heart. There was no amount of coin that could persuade him to betray a Shadowscale, even if he did make me pay for his services without any form of favouritism. Finally, I broke the silence.

"I am in need of your skills.

-Finish your drink before you order another.

-Your backstage skills.

He stopped cutting the lime with a sigh. He wiped his hands with a rag and motioned for one of his staff, a young Saxhleel, to take over. Then he gave me a sign to follow him. We went through a small door at the back of the room that led to a well-stocked pantry. When I'd closed the door behind us, he uncovered a hidden lock on the side of a large cask, lying on its side on shelves against a wall. He inserted a small key and, with a click, the lid of the barrel moved slightly outwards. He opened it all the way, revealing a staircase leading down. He went down and I followed, closing the secret door behind us. The stairs led down into a relatively large rectangular cellar. The ceiling was too low for me, and even with my head down the tips of my horns kept hitting the beams. However, it was just the right height for the slightly smaller Kexu. The walls were lined with shelves where dozens upon dozens of jars containing all manner of alchemical ingredients were arranged in an order that only Kexu knew the secret of. In one corner, an alchemist's station waited patiently, covered with intricate and oddly shaped glass utensils. I am not an alchemist, only an initiate. As with spells, my mentor had taught me about the plants that were considered useful for my work. These were mainly poisons and their antidotes. Kexu, however, was a master alchemist. There was no plant on Nirn that he couldn't make a potion from, and few diseases among the Saxhleels that he couldn't cure. He sat on the corner of a wooden desk with his arms crossed.

"So, what brings you today? From the look on your face, I have a feeling you are more interested in the healer than the alchemist.

-As always, your powers of deduction are accurate.

-Our city is becoming quite dangerous these days.

-Makes you wonder what it is the guards are being paid to do.

-Well, the more people cut each other up in the streets, the better my business gets.

-Speaking of which, I'm afraid I'm rather short of coin. But I'm a loyal customer. Surely you could agree to work on credit?

-Credit? Never heard of it. Must be an imperial word.

-Surely someone as well spoken as you has heard of it.

-As a matter of fact, I have. And a lot of other words too. People who ask for credit tend to try to repay you with words, a currency I don't accept.

-Do you doubt my integrity?

-Of course not! You are known to be a person of great nobility. But there is nothing more aristocratic than to forget a debt.

-Then I'll just die on your doorstep. Surely that would be bad publicity. I'm sure we can work something out. What if I could promise you something that would make it worth your while?

-Now you speak a language I understand! What do you have in mind?

-It turns out that I have had a small dispute with an old colleague of mine, and I intend to visit him to try and settle our little misunderstanding. This colleague is quite wealthy, so I'm sure I could find a way to borrow some money while I'm there, and pay you back shortly afterwards. Of course, I'll need to have the arrowhead in my back taken out. I won't be able to concentrate on the negotiations with a piece of metal tearing me apart from the inside.

-I'm interested, but will your colleague be willing to lend you money?

-Trust me, I'll be very persuasive.

-Sounds like a deal then!

We shook hands. He pointed to a table near his alchemical station. I sat down on it, and he helped me to take off my cloak and the top part of my armour. It was the first time I had ever needed his healing services. In all the years I had worked in the Imperial City, no one had ever managed to hit me. Few had even been able to try. When I was shirtless, Kexu moved behind me, on the other side of the table. He made an impressed whistling sound when he discovered the many scars on my back.

"Oh my, you've been busy. I have never had so many lashes and I have never been a very obedient slave.

-I'm not here to open old wounds Kexu, I'm here to close the newest one."

My tone was friendly but firm. Kexu got the message and didn't pry any further. Instead, he carefully removed the dirty, improvised bandage. Then he cleaned the wound with water and alchool.

"Nice cut, and pretty deep too. Removing the arrowhead will be unpleasant. Shall I put you under?

-Can I afford it? I asked rethorically.

-No, you don't," he replied with a chuckle.

He grabbed his bag of medical torture instruments and arranged them neatly on a small table beside him. The sight of various sharp ustentils, needles and saws didn't exactly reassure me, but I lay down on the table with my back to him as he instructed. I put a piece of wood he gave me into my mouth.

"Do I have to tie you down, or can you stay still?"

I shook my head. I'd rather be dead than be in any kind of restraint, no matter what the context. He nodded and went to work. The few minutes it took felt like an eternity. The cold metal of his surgical instruments burned as he cut through the flesh to reach the arrowhead. I have had my share of painful experiences over the years, from the whippings of the slave masters, the endless beatings that left me near death in the cells of Varron's manor, to the violent training of my Shadowscale mentor. All of this had helped me to keep my body under control. But it was a different matter with my mind. I tried to focus on something else, anything, but the pain was just too intense and kept bringing me back to the present. I was able to hold back my screams, but it took a great deal of effort to do so. After a while, I felt Kexu pull on what was left of the shaft, and in a sharp burst of pain, something inside me gave way. Kexu let out a triumphant cry. I heard the sound of something falling to the right of my face. I opened my eyes and saw the bloody arrowhead. It was made of steel and had been barbed to do as much damage as possible.

"The hard part is over. Now I'm going to close everything, hold still."

I heard him fiddle with his tools for a minute, looking for his curved needles. Finally he found them and went to work. I felt a sting and a long burning sensation as the wire tightened the wound. It was far from pleasant, but it was a pain I was familiar with and had no difficulty dealing with. Kexu took his time, whistling as he did his work, as if he were simply kneading bread. After a while I felt a tug, followed by the sound of sisors.

"All done! Wasn't so bad, was it?"

I tried to get up and sit on the edge of the table, but my head immediately began to spin and I fell back on the table, completely exhausted. I had lost a lot of blood. I spoke in a weak voice.

"Kexu, I am too weak to move. How long before I'm fit for travel?"

Kexu took a small red bottle from a shelf without saying a word. He helped me onto my back and lifted me up a bit so that I could drink the potion. As soon as I swallowed, I started to feel better. Sensation returned to my extremities, I felt warmer, and the pain in my back wasn't as bad as it had been.

"This is a potion I invented many years ago in the swamp for our wounded warriors," Kexu explained. It greatly speeds up your body's ability to produce blood and will give you some strength. Just rest for a few hours, you will be better by the evening. You are welcome to rest here, I'll bring you some meat and red wine soon.

-Thank you. May I ask one last favour? If you would agree to put it on my tab, please double the red wine.

He chuckled and left the room, closing the door behind him. I slowly dragged myself to a comfy looking sofa and fell into it. For the first time in years I had a dreamless sleep.