Balanced On the Knife Edge

Chapter 6

This was not what Karme had expected from the Imperial City.

Why exactly they had come here, she was beginning to wonder. Nusha had been sceptical, but Karme was sure that the answer to their quandary lay within the walls of the city. Her parents had spoken of it in mythical terms when she grew up, as a place of prosperity and commerce, a crossroads for all the races of Tamriel to exchange items and ideas.

On her previous visit she had only briefly seen the sights, before going to the Arcane University to request membership in the Mages' Guild. The whitewashed story of the city had fooled her that time, but now, dragged through the loud, messy chaos of the Market District, Karme was struggling to reconcile the reality of city life with her glorified image.

She didn't understand how it could smell this bad. In Vivec, there was a complicated system of running water and sewage to ensure an acceptable level of hygiene, given the difficulties presented by the unique architecture. The Imperial City, being open to the air, would be easy to keep fresh, she thought. Instead, the Market District smelt like every horse, child, and Khajiit in Cyrodiil had done their business there.

At least inside The Feed Bag the odour of hops and the loud buzz of drunken chatter provided a distraction. They ordered two big bowls of potage, which Karme eagerly wolfed down, but it didn't hold a candle to saltrice and scuttle from home. She wondered what had become of her parents, but that line of thinking only led to despair, so she spoke to Nusha instead.

"So," she said, taking a swig of ale and grimacing at the clearly watered-down taste. "I've told you all about myself, but I still don't know much about you."

Nusha waved a claw. "Not important. I'm just a lowlife, like you said."

"I'm not taking that for an answer," Karme said. "You're a Shadowscale, aren't you? There must be some fascinating tales you have to tell."

Nusha choked on her drink, looking around to see if anyone had overheard Karme. But the patrons were all wrapped up in their own conversations.

"Fine, if it'll stop you from blurting out my identity to everyone. What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Your childhood, what it's been like working for the Br—I mean, the organisation which you work for."

Nusha grinned. "Svaknal was my first assignment."

Karme gawped, and hid her face in her flagon. "So I ruined your first job?"

"Don't worry. I would've messed it up somehow. I've always been a failure." She stretched, cracking her knuckles. Karme wondered if she'd ever talked to anyone about her past before.

"There's a priory, near Leyawiin, where they raise us. Those of us born under the sign of the Shadow, those that are deemed 'worthy', are taken away at about five years of age from Black Marsh. I was some kind of fluke. The representative who picked me out insisted there was something special about me, maybe just because of my unique colouring, but the other preceptors at the Priory all thought I was a runt."

Karme examined Nusha more closely. Her pigmentation was uniform black, with only her amber eyes to break it up. She hadn't supposed it was unique to her, but it made sense for an assassin.

"I didn't exactly fit in with the others. I was bullied for most of my childhood."

"But why?"

Nusha gave her an incredulous look. Karme didn't understand. She had never been bullied, and Nusha seemed like the sort who could stand up for herself.

"I'm a loser, Karme. By Shadowscale standards, anyway. You'll figure it out once you get to know me better."

An awkward pause filled the air. Karme spoke, if only to alleviate the silence. "So what did they teach you at the priory?"