“One question,” Dodger said after they’d risen in the morning and resumed their trek to the Imperial City. “Why did you need my knife when you had that sword last night anyway?”
“Can’t throw a sword,” came the terse reply.
Dodger nodded to herself and they walked on in silence.
As they got nearer the city, the road became wider and Dodger began to see other people on the road. First came a farmer, driving a wagon loaded with just what she expected – corn and lots of it. She waved and called a greeting to the old man as he rumbled past, but he didn’t even slow down and Yellow-Eyes took her hand and led her off the road before he got too close.
“Are they all so friendly in the city?” she asked sarcastically.
Yellow-Eyes looked at her before replying, “Be grateful he didn’t run off the road to hit you. They don’t intend any disrespect, Dodger. Most of them don’t even see us as people. We might as well be the grass or the trees. You wouldn’t expect him to talk to a passing tree.”
“But, they’re not all like that. Right?”
“No. There are exceptions. It’s like those slavers yesterday. I think they really believe the bullshit they spouted. They had to muzzle me so they could imagine I couldn’t talk. Otherwise I’d shake their world view and they might even feel guilty about binding us all up as slaves.”
“But they had respect for that Briarbird guy.”
“They did indeed. On some level, I think humans see the elves as superior to themselves. High elves at least. It’s a sure bet the High Elves do.”
“He decimated them didn’t he?” Dodger laughed, kicking a rock down the road.
Yellow-Eyes didn’t respond.
“Well, technically he didn’t. Decimated would mean he killed a tenth of them. He killed ten-tenths of them. He deci-decimated them.”
Yellow-Eyes kept walking.
“You probably didn’t know that,” Dodger muttered.
Still nothing.
“It was supposed to be funny,” Dodger said to the ground as they topped a hill.
But when she looked up, she saw the city. “Oh… my… god!”
Yellow-Eyes took her hand to help keep her out of trouble as they approached the city, steering her this way and that to avoid the increasing traffic while her eyes were glued upward to the walls as much as the awesome spectacle of the White-Gold Tower that loomed larger than any tree she had ever seen, ever even imagined. In her experience, only mountains could rival it’s size. But this had been built by… someone anyway!
“Human’s can’t be all bad! Look at what they built!”
Yellow-Eyes didn’t even turn to look at her. “Bullshit. This was built by the Aldmer. Humans just took it over.”
“Oh. Well, anyway it’s so… BIG! Surely you must be impressed. Briarbird said you were an architect.”
They passed within the gates without incident.
Once inside, and away from the guards Dodger noticed, he said, “Not that kind of architect.”
Dodger pulled at his hand and he stepped aside out of the road.
“What do you mean, not that kind of architect? How many kinds are there?”
Yellow-Eyes looked around, then led them to a more secluded area, where he knelt before her.
“Dodger, I know you’re young…”
“Seventeen,” she reminded him.
“Seventeen. But do you really think the Imperials would send someone like Briarbird to find me if I was just a designer of buildings?”
“Well, I didn’t really think…”
“You need to start thinking, Dodger. This is no place for a dope who can’t put two-and-two together. Do you think my friend went through all that expense to find me just to have me draw up plans for some outhouse? An emergency office tower?”
Dodger began to pout. “You think I’m stupid.”
“No, Dodger. I don’t. I think you’re unusually smart in fact. But you need to use that brain. Especially here. I’m not kidding when I tell you ‘I’m not your nanny’. You’re going to have to take care of yourself, and that means keeping your eyes open and that brain of yours engaged. Now, you said you were a writer, so you know words. Let’s see if you can puzzle out just what kind of an architect I am.”
Dodger brightened when he said she was smart. So she thought about it.
“Well… no offense, but you look kinda rough. Those scars didn’t get there designing buildings I guess.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“And they said they found you with your tail caught in a printing press in a warehouse. That’s an odd situation for a building architect.”
“That was an odd situation for me. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime. But the word… architect. What does it imply, other than buildings. What does an architect do?”
“He… um,” Dodger thought furiously. Yellow-Eyes was being unusually talkative. He wanted something from her. She needed to work this out. “He… makes plans.”
“Good. Yes. I make plans. But not plans for buildings. What kind of plans would someone want that are valuable enough to send an Imperial agent out for? An obviously highly qualified Imperial agent at that.”
“Something big. But not big like a building. Someone… wants you to make plans… for something big…”
Suddenly Dodger’s eyes grew very wide and she looked at the Argonian with newfound respect and something like awe.
“Something CRIMINAL!”
Yellow-Eyes nodded, closing his eyes in a sign of satisfaction.
“You’re a… mastermind!”
“Well. Sort of. I plan things. I don’t do them, but I plan them. I have a reputation among certain people of being very successful at it too. My friend wants me to plan something. I don’t know what yet, but he went through a lot of expense to get me here. If you’re going to tag along, I figure you should know what you’re getting yourself involved in. This isn’t some petty drug thing. It’s not even smuggling or slave running. It’s big, and likely political. It usually is with… my friend.”
“Is it dangerous?” Dodger asked, eyes practically sparkling.
“For me and you, if all goes well, no. For the field operatives, sure. But I just make plans.”
“You’ve been a ‘field operative’ though, haven’t you.”
Yellow-Eyes looked at her with more seriousness than she’d seen in him before. Normally he either just ignored her, or looked down on her like a child. This time he looked at her like an equal.
“Yes, Dodger. I have been. I got out of that though. It’s a bloody business and not one I recommend. But I owe my friend my life, so I come when asked. You don’t. I’ve already told you that you should go home. But you’re right. I can’t stop you. I can advise you though. Seriously advise you. Go home. If you get involved in this any more than you are right now, I don’t want to be responsible for any consequences. You’re making a very grown-up choice right now. It’s up to you, but staying with me is not wise.”
Dodger looked at the Argonian she called Yellow-Eyes. She noticed the little wrinkles around his eyes for the first time. The scar on his head looked deeper than she’d noticed too. He was certainly no young buck. His eyes had seen a lot. This was as serious as he knew how to get. He was trying his best to warn her off, but he didn’t understand that his warning had the opposite effect.
Dodger smiled back, a smile that was more mature than her years. “Thank you Yellow-Eyes. I know you’re being serious. But I also know what I’m doing. There’s nothing waiting for me back home. I need to get away. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. For a little while.”
Yellow-Eyes stood up and sighed like an old man. “Mistake. But it’s your mistake Dodger. Always remember, it was your mistake. Deal?”
Dodger held out her hand and grabbed his. It felt at once strong and old at the same time. She shook it once firmly. “Deal.”
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