Anger. Humiliation. Fear. All of this and more roils in me during my long, desultory trudge back to Windhelm. Bested by the Favored, and yet allowed to live...this has never happened to me before. Saving Serana's still a priority, and avenging Lisin, yes, but now...
But getting to Windhelm, it's apparent that I'm not the only one that wants a word with the Favored.
"Legate Rikke," I say. "What brings you here?"
"Rebellion. Some sort of Stormcloak resurgence. They've killed much of the population according to the few who got out alive."
I shake my head. "It's not Stormcloaks. This is about me."
She sighs. "I should have known the dragon circling above meant you were involved. It hasn't attacked us yet, but..."
I look up at Odahviing. "He's with me. There's some mage inside running this thing, and you have no idea how dangerous he is. I didn't want a fight starting."
Rikke nods. "That's what it looked like; every now and then, it sweeps over the bridge, to keep the two of us divided."
"Good."
"Not good enough," she says, pointing. "We can hear them laughing every time they hit one of us. We've tried to lay low but can't abandon the bridge entire."
"Take my advice," I say. "Leave. I'm going to deal with this myself. There aren't enough of you anyway, not that your numbers would help you."
"This concerns the Imperium," she says. "We're stretched thin after the war with Ulfric, but we can't just let the Stormcloaks reform. Taking Windhelm is a symbolic victory for them, even if it's unrelated, like you said."
A sudden gust of wind signals Odahviing's passing above. "Dovahkiin," he roars. "Some small friends of yours huddle in a building to the south of you. One of them shouted in a very small, thin voice, bidding me to inform you of their arrival."
I roll my eyes. "Thank you," I say, not really caring whether he can hear me or not. He's already long gone anyway, swooping back over the city.
I turn back to Rikke. "I can't make you leave, but remember what I told you."
I head to Kynesgrove, assuming that's what Odahviing meant, where I find Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin. Fai'mar joins us, having disappeared again during my walk back to Windhelm. I'm reminded again that he really is using me, just jockeying to get closer to the Favored so he can take the bounty.
I don't see how he expects to kill the Favored himself. Maybe he counts on the two of us finishing each other off, and then he can just pick up the pieces.
"So. What do you have for me?"
Brynjolf grins a bit. That's a good sign. "We pulled an old contact who rides with the merchants from the south. Found out who the Favored is. Would you believe it, he's a moth priest."
I nod. That explains how he knew how to perform the ritual in the glade. "Interesting. What else?"
"We learned his name," Vex says. "Jo'rabi." Fai'mar coughs and glances at her but says nothing. "He lived in the White-Gold Tower," she continues. "Worked there, with the other priests, from what we can gather. It sounds like the Emperor is keeping the specifics still hidden, but it sounds like this Jo'rabi violated the Tower itself. The archives where the Elder Scrolls are kept. Maybe even stole some of them."
"That's a job even we couldn't pull off," Delvin says. "Which makes sense he's a moth priest. Did it from the inside. Probably caused a good bit of chaos on his way out."
"That also explains why he's blind," I say. "Probably read some of those scrolls."
"We didn't find anything about his past before that," Vex adds. "Nothing, at least, to explain his obsession with you."
Fai'mar clears his throat, drawing all heads to him. "It is good that Fai'mar is here, then. Because Fai'mar knows of a Jo'rabi."
"That's right," Brynjolf says, "that's a Khajit name, isn't it?"
"It means 'wizard that is owned'. There are some stories of a boy who was taken as a slave by Khajit pirates, at a very young age. Young enough to not know his own name. His unusual talent for magic was quickly apparent, and Khajit mages are fond of the school of Destruction. They wanted to raise him as a weapon."
"And that would explain why a moth priest should be such a powerful mage," I say. "But that sounds rather minor for you to know of him. What happened?"
"Khajit joke about him. As a little boy, he summoned a storm that wrecked two of the pirates' ships. The crews thought it a great joke and told the story to anyone who would listen. Jo'rabi himself, however, was sold to humans on the mainland and forgotten. Khajit do not hold grudges." He picks at his mustache. "Fai'mar had not imagined that the Favored and the boy from this story might be the same person, however."
"Fascinating," I say. "Unfortunately, none of this tells me of a way to beat this...Jo'rabi."
"It may give you a starting point next time you talk," Vex says. "Especially that bit about him being a slave. Maybe throw him off balance, get him to drop his guard. It's a long shot, though."
"It doesn't matter." I sigh. Nothing I've done has moved me anywhere. I've been on square one from the very beginning. Worse, maybe, ever since Serana got captured. Jo'rabi's stood at the center of it all, and I just bounce off and around him like water on rock. I grimace and head for the door. "It's time for us to kill each other."
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