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Chapter 5

Ra'kesh eyed the Nord curiously. He seemed the kind of person worth chatting to if one were looking for underground connections in the city. Unfortunately, Ra'kesh doubted he'd be allowed out of Kala's sight for more than a minute. He shrugged it off and regarded Kala with a cheeky smile.

"Ra'kesh was thinking about how to spend his gold. Does Balmora have whorehouse? Mistress must do big favor for Ra'kesh and wait outside, otherwise he will miss the best part," he sniggered.

"Oh, no," Kala said sweetly. "If you go in, I'm going in, too. I know at least one establishment that has not only ladies of easy virtue, but men. Maybe it'll improve your temper."

At the top of the hill the alley opened out into a wider street, with the familiar shop-front on the left and the guilds on the right. Kala turned toward the Mages Guild, walking under the sign of the single eye. Unlike the shops with their painted banners, the guilds had signs carved of wood, and the eye showed signs of wear and weather; it had hung there for a long time.

Ra'kesh chuckled at the unexpected response.

"So she has a sense of humor after all."

"She tries."

He glanced apprehensively at the universal symbol of mages upon the sign. Unsurprisingly, they managed to pick something which was just as creepy as it was mysterious. He absently scratched under his mane while eyeing the shops up and down the street- armorers, booksellers, clothiers, and probably more around the corner.

"Hmm.. Mistress shall be a while learning this spell, correct? Would it be all right if Ra'kesh looks around the shops nearby? Perhaps he shall find something useful for the journey. Shops are very close by, Khajiit will not wander far." He spoke casually as if not caring what the answer was either way, although truth be told, he did not fancy being in the presence of mages. They had an air of superiority about them that bothered him even when he was free; he could only imagine how they'd look down their noses at a slave.

Kala paused to listen to his suggestion, hand on the door. "All right, go ahead. I'll be a few minutes. Learning a spell by transfer can be a bit..." She stopped, waving a hand vaguely. He had no reason to care. "Right. Go ahead."

"Many thanks. Khajiit will come back long before Mistress has finished. No worries." He smiled and watched Kala enter the guild.

She pushed the door open and went into the dimmer interior, lit by lamps and as windowless as many of Balmora's buildings tended to be. Ranys Athrys glanced up from the desk inside the front door, raising a black eyebrow at her.

"Oh, it's you, Wizard. Welcome back. I don't suppose you ever did get to Tel Aruhn?"

"Oh. Yes, I did, I just -" She stopped talking again. Telling the local Guild-head_I forgot that I did your stupid errand because I bought a slave who has absorbed all of my attention since_probably would not go over well. "I did talk to him. He said yes, it's incomplete, but the fragment he has just adds 'but the dremora are themselves black souls if one attempts the spell in Cyrodiil.'"

"Mm. Well, that's mildly helpful. Don't let me keep you." She took out a notebook and began writing. Kala shrugged and followed the long ramp with its pale blue lamps down to the lower level.

This was where most of Balmora's mages did most of their work. It was a broad, square room, with rows of benches and lecterns at one side for teaching, and a cubicle with bunks and closets on the other. Sharn gra-Muzgrub with her shelves of restoratives occupied the corner opposite the bunks. As usual, the Orc was busy about her work, presently muttering over what appeared to be a human or merish skull covered in runes. Some of the mages were attending a lecture on what sounded like conjuration; some were paging through the books piled on the tables beside the lecture areas. At the center of the wall opposite the platform was the doorway to the alcove that held the alchemy benches and the guild transportation platform.

As luck would have it, the Altmer Estirdalin was not at lecture. She was walking briskly back and forth across the main floor, fists clenched, muttering to herself.

"First the vision, then the conjuration. This is unsettling."

The High Elf wore her white hair in a high bun, and while she wore a pair of shawls draped over her narrow shoulders and hips, both they and her green robe were simple and plain. Kala stepped forward to intercept her.

"Master Wizard Estirdalin?"

The mer stopped to stare down at her blankly for a moment, then nodded. "Oh yes, Wizard gra-Nend. What can I do for you?"

"I need a spell that can kill in one casting, quickly. Can you still teach me Poison?"

Estirdalin lifted a white eyebrow. "Are you contemplating a murder?"

Kala shook her head. "I'm still going to Dagon Fel for my expedition. It's been brought to my attention that my current spell set is not combat-efficient."

"Well,_that's_probably true. You're an alchemist. Do you have 150 drakes?"

Kala wordlessly detached her purse and held it out. The Altmer took it and weighed it thoughtfully in one hand, then hung it on her own belt.

"All right, fair enough. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way, bearing in mind that this is an orison of Destruction?"

"I don't have time for the easy way," said Kala.

"I thought not. Hold still, then." Estirdalin clamped a hand onto her shoulder. The elf's lips moved silently as her eyes narrowed to slits. For a moment there was nothing; then power jolted through Kala's body, head to toe, like lightning striking but with the irresistibly sour feeling of a poison spell. She felt venom in her blood and bones, seeping into every particle, every hair, every inch of skin. It hurt with the indefinably_wrong_pain of a sore tooth, or a fever-ache, and it seemed to go on forever. When it finally dissipated as suddenly as it had come she was on her knees, the elf leaning over her as she trembled.

"Do you have that?" Estirdalin asked cheerfully.

"I think... so...?" Kala lifted one hand, opening and closing the fingers. Green mist puffed out around them, then dissipated.

"Good girl. Here, you'll be right as rain in a couple of minutes. Come sit down. I suppose I should've had you do that to start with." She offered a hand. Kala took it (not without a glance to make sure Sharn wasn't watching) and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She was still shaking. It would be a good few minutes before she could walk straight enough to leave.

As soon as the door clicked firmly shut behind Kala, Ra'kesh turned on his pads and retreated down the hill for the alley they had passed just before. Surely the big Nord had not been further than fifty yards away, although he was cutting it dangerously close. He hoped that there would be some kind of warning. Perhaps he would grow progressively weaker rather than being knocked out instantly.

It didn't really matter. He had no reputation to tarnish if he were caught. Kala already knew what he was.

The Nord was still there, humming a tune to himself. It was a religious hymn to Almsivi, in fact. Each verse delineated some feature or particular glory of one member of the three, and the chorus went_Praise Almsivi, Almsivi is Mighty_up and down a series of ascending and descending chords. Without another person he didn't have someone to hum the bass line that went_CHIM... CHIM... CHIM..._

He glanced up as the Khajiit approached, then looked around for the Orc. No Orc appeared. "You're back. Something I can help you with? Usually it's not slaves that want to buy my services, but I'm not averse if you've got the coin."

Ra'kesh's ears swiveled, checking for eavesdroppers, but the street appeared to be otherwise deserted. He gave a friendly smile to the Nord and did not even flinch when his status was mentioned.

"A very shrewd businessman Sir Nord surely is. Khajiit is new in town and unfamiliar with the local specialties. Does Muthsera sell skooma, or moon sugar if not? This one has coin, yes, although not at the moment," he said regrettably, cursing his short-sightedness for leaving the gold at home. He paused for a moment, glancing to the side. "...Khajiit also has fine enchanted jewelry to trade or sell, if Muthsera is in this business as well."

The Nord raised a blond eyebrow. "If you want drugs or a fence you should check at the South Wall Cornerclub. It's across the river, East side of town. If you're looking to sneak goods or yourself into Skyrim, I'm your man. You're not one of Bjalfi's, are you?"

Ra'kesh's face fell.

"No," he sighed. "This one does not know Bjalfi; as he says, he is quite new here. But is this Bjalfi someone worth knowing?" His tail flicked in irritation.

"To you, probably not. Now shove off, I'm waiting for my contact, and it's obviously not you."

The Nord looked away from him and resumed humming under his breath.

Ra'kesh narrowed his eyes at the man, but said nothing. Instead he nodded curtly and turned away. He considered going around the corner and eavesdropping on whatever deal was about to go down, but if it didn't involve drugs, it probably wasn't worth his time. His claws dug into his palms as he made his way back up the hill.

He came back to the shops and looked around at the signs, but there was nothing he wanted. As if he'd spend any precious gold on supplies for someone else's meaningless research! He thumped his back against a stone column that made part of the archway outside the Mages Guild and crossed his arms, glaring at the empty street.

Kala emerged from the Guild, walking a little unevenly, and squinted as the daylight hit. She looked around. There was Ra'kesh, leaning on one of the support pillars and looking surly again. She wondered if he'd tried to buy drugs somewhere and been turned down.

That's not fair to him. Perhaps someone was rude, or pushed him out of the way or something. A lot of Dunmer treat slaves as less than people. Besides, surely he wouldn't again so soon after what happened yesterday.

"Did you find what you wanted?" she asked. "I need to try my spell out, and we might as well try to find some hackle-lo before we go home." As she spoke she turned toward the city's main gate. The further she walked, the steadier she was; she still had the feeling that her bones were made of poison, but it was gradually fading as she completed her absorption of the spell.

Ra'kesh smiled tightly when Kala appeared. It did not reach his eyes.

"No... Some interesting items, but nothing Ra'kesh wants badly enough," he said simply. He fell in behind Kala and snapped out of his self-pitying thoughts long enough to notice her awkward gait. Come to think of it, she was also a bit pale.

"Is Mistress all right?" he asked with genuine concern, catching up to her again.

He didn't look happy to see her. Maybe it was drugs after all. She shot him a surprised glance at his question.

"I'm all right. Everyone walks a bit funny after they've learned a spell the hard way. The master mage has to transfer it to you directly by touch, and until it's settled in it feels a bit odd. You can pick them up from written descriptions instead, eventually, but it takes hours of study, and I want to start out day after tomorrow. I've still got enough left to cover our boat and strider fares out to Dagon Fel."

There were guards on this gateway, but there was much more traffic in and out than the river gate, and these did not know Kala by sight. They nodded indifferently as the Orc and the Khajiit passed by.

Ra'kesh stopped dead as if he'd walked straight into a brick wall.

Kala realized she was walking alone a few steps out of town. She stopped to look around, then waited for the Khajiit to catch up. She eyed him sideways as they went on. Once again, she had the uncomfortable feeling that, without telepathy, she still knew the Khajiit's thoughts.

"Two days?" he repeated uneasily. He forced his legs to get moving again. In just two days he'd be cut off completely from any chance to acquire skooma... the thought made his stomach tie itself up in knots. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared at the ground as they walked. He wanted to be peppy, but this day was getting worse and worse.

"How long does Mistress expect to be gone?" he finally asked.

"Drakan-Ka is supposedly two days' journey out of Dagon Fel, it's just well hidden. If it's possible to get inside, it shouldn't take more than another day or so to find the Engine. Then I'll need to spend some time making notes and etchings. I don't know how long that part will take. It has to be detailed enough that I can convince other mages I'm not just making it up. Then I'll devise a test or experiment to see what it does, probably spend another day or so on that... If everything goes well, at least a week. I can Recall us back here instantaneously when it's time to come home and start putting together a book. I've already been to see Dorisa Darvel, and she knows a bookbinder who would put it together for me before I offer my findings to the Guild."

If the Engine existed, and worked, they would want to send out a larger expedition, of course. She was less certain what they would do with such a device. That was why she aimed to publish before reporting; it would be much harder for Ranys or someone like her to steal a lower ranking mage's research and deny her credit if it was already public.

Traffic thinned as they moved further up the road away from town. Kala looked up at the sun, squinting again, then moved off the road toward the West, away from the river and toward the looming hills.

"Ra'kesh forgot that she can do this. Very useful," he replied, feeling slightly better. A week sober was agonizing, but it could be worse.

"It can be," Kala agreed.

The Khajiit's ears turned to a muffled thump past a thick patch of chokeweed. He threw up his hand, signaling Kala to wait, and quietly approached the bushes. He parted the thin branches with his hands to reveal a pale scrib scratching at the ground with its first set of spindly legs. It paused only slightly to acknowledge Ra'kesh before continuing on its business, unafraid of the large strangers.

"Mistress could practice spell on this," he suggested, holding still so as not to alarm the creature and receive a blast of paralyzing poison.

She stopped when Ra'kesh put up a hand, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was already raising a hand to cast her shield when she saw the scrib. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. And you thought it was a bandit.

"Good idea, but you'd better move. The spell has a five foot radius. It would take out you, the bush and the scrib all together, unless you've got some Argonian blood in you somewhere."

Ra'kesh snapped off the chokeweed branch he was holding, to give Kala a clearer shot, and backed away until he was behind her.

"It is poison?" he asked, arching a brow. "This one hopes Mistress knows an antidote spell as well."

"Of course I do. Cure Poison is an_easy_spell. When that comes up I usually use potions instead, though. Saves magicka." She looked at the scrib, took a deep breath, and made a fist of her left hand, then rapidly spread the fingers as she forced it out toward the creature. Venom revolved behind her eyes, a bitterness to kill the world.

A blast of greenish-yellow shot from her hand to the scrib, exploding into a five-foot cloud of poison. The creature flipped onto its back, writhing and screeching, then gurgled and kicked its legs once before folding them tightly against its body. A final shudder, and it was still. Around it, the chokeweed withered and shriveled up, crumbling into fragments of dead vegetation.

Ra'kesh's eyes widened at the ugly death. He felt slightly guilty for volunteering the creature as a test subject. He waited for every trace of the poison cloud to dissipate before approaching the shriveled gray bushes and picking up the Scrib by the legs.

"This is safe to eat, correct? Poison from magicka does not linger in the body as a physical poison would?" He untied the waterskin from his belt, looped the cord around one of the scrib's curled legs, and reattached it so both hung from his side. He would crack open the carapace and scoop out the succulent jelly at home.

"I er... That's right. It's safe." She was a bit taken aback at it herself, yellow eyes wide. "Ye gods, I hope I don't have to use that on a person." And yet she felt better, stronger and more certain; once the spell had passed through her it no longer felt foreign. For better or worse, it was a part of her now.

"Probably not, there are few people up north," he reassured her. He decided not to mention that Dagon Fel was a prime location for artifact smugglers. Surely, a researcher of Dwemer technology must already know.

"Just as well." She offered Ra'kesh one of the canvas bags. "I need hackle-lo. They look sort of like comberry at the bottom, but the top is spiky green leaves. Sort of a short, bushy tree. There's one there." She pointed a few feet away.

Ra'kesh accepted a bag and set to collecting. It was another nice day. The gentle breeze brought a scent of sweet heather and fresh water from the river below the hills. Ra'kesh was still weak, yet growing stronger. His appetite was back, he no longer shook like a newborn... Yet one minute he was feeling fine and making jokes, and the next minute he was so angry and frustrated at everything. He sighed and wished with deep regret to be back in the days when a hangover from a wild night was his only trouble in the world.

Ra'kesh paused to rest for a moment. From their high vantage point over the Odai, he could see a guar-led cart traveling along the river path. Three figures followed the cart in single-file, shackled together. From this distance Ra'kesh could only make out that they were betmer from their tails, but not which race.

More of his kin marching to their doom. He watched them silently as they passed, sorrow in his golden eyes.

Kala moved about looking for hackle-lo among the comberry and heather. It was like him, she thought, to toss off something that might make her feel better, make her easier to live with until the next time he saw his chance. Or perhaps she was just tired. Learning a spell was harder than many castings.

She was preoccupied with this line of thought when she noticed the Khajiit standing unmoving at the edge of the slope, looking down toward the river. The set of his ears was different than she had ever seen, and she went softly to see what he was looking at.

Their fates would be worse than his. Instead of dancing around a reluctant mistress trying to get skooma, they would probably spend miserable lives farming saltrice, or cleaning Hlaalu houses and shops, or risking death by firedamp to keep the sewers clear. A very lucky and attractive one might become the love-toy of some rich buyer, have all that they were willing to sell themselves for until their looks faded and they were passed down to housekeeper in favor of someone younger and prettier.

A man should be free.

She regretted anew that she had ever bought him. But the reasons for her purchase held; and she still meant to release him when her work was done. She was increasingly less happy with that choice, because whatever parting money he had, she knew he would use it to kill himself slowly; but the ability to choose wrongly was part and parcel of the ability to choose.

"I'm sorry," she said, without going into detail, and turned back to gathering herbs.

The next day or so was uneventful. She finished up her brewing, filling every slot in her shoulder-belt of little potion vials, and did not stir far from the little house in Labor Town. She slept much, ate moderately, and shared her flin with Ra'kesh, cup for cup.

The morning of Morndas that she had set for their departure dawned warm and bright. Kala got up and put on her base tunic and leggings of soft homespun, then the most durable of her robes that was not already at the bottom of a knapsack, a thing of dark blue linen. She had bought a pair of sturdier leather walking shoes and broken them in carefully just for this, and now she put them on, hopping slightly as she fit the leather over her heel.

She went to get her set of rings, silently counting them off. Slowfall, Almsivi Intervention, Water walking, Water Breathing, minor Shock, Light... After a moment she realized what was wrong. He must've put them back. She felt a lump in her throat for a moment, then swallowed it away. Now was not the time to get sentimental. Perhaps someone had just told him they weren't worth more than 10 drakes each.

Downstairs she cleaned out the cupboard, yawning. She had bought food a day before, and they would be eating the remnants of scrib jelly, scuttle, bread, and some half-wilted greens before setting out. She filled her water skins at the pump up in the bathroom when she had eaten, then went to check the knapsacks over for anything missing or lacking.

Ra'kesh woke with a black dread in the pit of his stomach. He'd done his best to be helpful and chipper over the last two days, but this trip terrified him. He didn't know if he was strong enough for it and showing weakness in front of Kala was unacceptable to him.

He forced himself to rise from bed and pulled the handsome green shirt from the top drawer of his dresser. He hadn't worn it yet. He'd bought himself a set of extravagant clothes the first time he got a large cut of loot back when he first signed up on the Farihki, but as far as he could remember he'd never owned a new piece of clothing since then. Mostly he spent his money on booze, women, and moon sugar, while his clothes came from the dead. Not only was this new, but it had been a gift.. more or less.

He pulled the shirt on over his head and shook his floofy mane out of the neck hole. His nose twitched at the pleasant scent of clean linen. He quickly combed his face and neck with the kagouti horn grooming kit - another luxury he was unaccustomed to in recent years - and headed downstairs with the kit in hand, to add to his travel pack.

He ate his breakfast in nervous silence and watched Kala flit around the house attending to last minute details.

"Oh, good, you're wearing your new shirt," she said, as she finished strapping up the second knapsack. She went to get the refuse bottle from the alchemy table and scooted upstairs to pour the contents down the drains. It smelled harsh and chemical, stinging the eyes and nose. It would have lost its potency before they came back, but hopefully it would last long enough to keep insects from nesting in the bends.

As she came back down she was surprised to realize her heart was pounding. She had been looking forward to this day for weeks, even months. _My first real academic expedition, without a professor looking over my shoulder, without other students competing with me and sniping at the stupid Orc. _She had just enough to pay for passage, and she double-checked her little purse as she went to hoist up the knapsack and get her staff. The pack was a solid, heavy weight on her back, and they would have a long couple of days' travel even via boat and strider.

"There are strength fortifiers in the little pocket on the left side," she said to Ra'kesh. "Take one now and every hour or so, when you start to feel things get heavier. We'll need to be alert when we arrive, not sore and exhausted." As she spoke she took one of the tiny vials from the pocket of her own knapsack and downed it. The weight of the pack grew substantially lighter. _I can be the strongest woman in the world... for an hour at a time. _She had spent many hours of effort herbing and brewing and squirreling away enough potions to make this trip feasible long before she had bought Ra'kesh.

Ra'kesh had tested the weight of his pack already (when Kala wasn't looking) but he again hoisted the thing onto his back just to see how heavy it was. Not too bad standing still, but it would be taxing quickly during a hike. He retrieved a potion and gulped it down without arguing. Energy rippled through his muscles.

"Ra'kesh wonders how often alchemists become dependent on their own potions," he mused, flexing his scrawny arms. The power was nearly intoxicating.

"It happens," Kala said. "They're mostly not physically addictive, but it's very easy to get too used to being very strong, very fast, very attractive to other people, whatever is wanting in your life. My first tutor told me never to take a potion without a specific task in mind, or you'll end up having to take them to get up in the morning."

His dagger and water skin were both at his side. He had little else to worry about; Kala had prepared everything. He didn't even know what all she had in her bag, although he did look through his just out of curiosity.

The bag held more potions (all neatly labeled in ink along the bases), another water skin, a bedroll strapped to the bottom, several pounds of dried fruit and scrip pemmican, a bag of powdered soap, a roll of gauze, a coiled rope, a short spade, a larger spade that folded in the middle, a pickaxe, what looked like a shaving-brush, a couple of short picks the wrong shape for locks, two books with blank pages, a third book that contained writing in a strange language and sketches of Dwemer devices, a very sturdy sealed bottle of ink with a metal frame over it to keep it from breaking, and several quills.

He had his gold as well, but something told him it wouldn't be of much use in Dagon Fel.

"So.. the intrepid adventurers are ready to go?" Ra'kesh asked nervously.

She looked around at the house, the dishes done up, the laundry put away, the alchemy things tucked up neatly on their shelves.

"I think we're ready," she said. "Let's go."

She carefully locked the door after them, and they set off up the hill toward the Commercial District. As they talked she explained their route to the Khajiit.

"The Guild guide will teleport us to Sadrith Mora. From there we'll take a boat to Dagon Fel. Teleportation is instantaneous, but we'll be two days at sea. I suppose if you were a pirate you don't get seasick, at least. That will be a blessing."

"Ra'kesh feels quite at home on sea," he said. "It has been many years though." As they walked he looked back at Kala's neighborhood wistfully. He had later learned through casual conversation that the South Wall Cornerclub was, in fact, only two streets over from Kala's house. This whole time he had been so painfully close to the object of his desires and now he was leaving.

For some reason Ra'kesh couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking at these streets for the last time. Maybe he would find a way to escape, maybe he would die, or maybe he just wasn't used to the idea of having a home to return to. Either way, he kept this gloomy idea to himself.

"This one is quite happy that Mistress will not be taking the strider. Ra'kesh imagines those long legs could snap at any time and send passengers to their death. Riding inside such a creature is not natural," he shuddered. He'd only taken a strider once, and the control rods sticking out of its exposed brains were disturbing even to him.

"I knew someone who fell out of a Strider once," she said. "He survived, but he broke his leg. Was stuck out in the wilderness eating willow anthers for two days before someone from the Guild went looking for their missing apprentice. I try to avoid it if I can." She was completely oblivious to Ra'kesh's subdued glances back, lost in the excitement of the day.

Ranys Athrys glared at them as Kala started to march past her desk.

"Are you bringing a_slave_in here?"

"It's not against the rules," Kala said. "We're just here to use the guild guide. It'll only be a minute." She felt her palms sweating as she remembered the incident with the guard, silently praying Ra'kesh would let it go. If he really make Athrys angry she could flat kill him and get off with no penalty worse than paying Kala his stated value; and Athrys had been a Master Wizard for decades, it was rumored. It would not be difficult for her.

Ra'kesh glanced impassively at the Dunmer woman in her fancy robe. Another snotty elf with a superiority complex. He scratched at his ear and shook his mane as he passed her, knowing full well that some of his tawny hairs were floating to the floor.

"Mistress, Khajiit has fleas again," he said apologetically, smoothing out his mane and brushing more loose hairs onto the floor.

"All right, fine, go." Ranys waved them on irritably.

Kala snorted helplessly as she heard Ra'kesh, then glared at him as she hurried down the ramp. Behind them, Ranys made a disgusted noise.

"You_cough_bastard," she hissed at him, trying desperately not to laugh. "Do you want to get me_hee ahem_thrown out of the Guild?"

Ra'kesh waved a hand dismissively.

"Mistress worries too much. Mages are not_that_uptight. It is Ra'kesh who would suffer in any case." He grinned at her and said the next words in a hushed tone. "Besides, soon enough Mistress Kala will be the one they grovel to, no?"

The narrow hallway opened into the main room and Ra'kesh stopped to look around. Although he knew little of Mages and their tools, he knew that anything found in their possession was invariably something of high value. His eyes surveyed the ancient, leather-bound books, glittering soul gems and complicated alchemical equipment in the room like a housewife in the marketplace who knew to pick the freshest and ripest of fruits.

He noted that the guild members were quite diverse, not all Dunmer as he would have expected. A fellow Khajiit hurried about attending to her duties. He avoided looking at her directly, not wishing to see pity in her eyes. He followed Kala to the transporter, remembering how unremarkable it felt to teleport.

"Oh good, we're back to being optimistic," she said dryly. No one would ever grovel to a Wizard-ranked mage, unless she decided to start taking on apprentices. Given her track record managing one person who literally could not run away, it was probably better not to take that on.

She led the way back to the alcove where Masalinie Merian stood next to the round platform. The dark-haired Breton wore a brown velvet robe decorated with a rich green tabard and a jeweled belt, marking the high status of a Guild Guide. Her posture was chipper and alert, hands folded in front of her and shoulders back.

"Looks as though you're ready for a long trip, Wizard," she greeted Kala cheerfully.

"Yes, to Sadrith Mora," Kala said. "I need some ingredients that can't be found locally."

"You need a slave and two bags for an alchemy outing?" She eyed the Khajiit curiously.

"Erm... they might be heavy?" she suggested.

"All right, keep it to yourself, then," said Masalinie mildly, as Kala offered her the small bag into which she had parceled out their 20 drake travel fee. The slender Breton waved them up onto the platform. "I'll have you there in two ticks."

"Thank you," said Kala, as the guide began gesturing. Enough power was being discharged that she could feel it physically. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck, tingling up her spine.