But he couldn’t let it go. “You mean to say that you were there when the Red Mountain exploded? You know what happened?”
Sul didn’t answer.
“It must be terrible. I can’t imagine—”
“Please, for the favor of Mephala don’t tell me what you can and can’t imagine. Just do what I say.”
His tone was still odd, and Attrebus still didn’t exactly trust the man. But he was starting to believe him, at least as far as Umbriel was concerned. And in other things.
He took a deep breath. “It’s true, isn’t it? What Radhasa said about me?”
“Oh, thank the gods,” Sul intoned, “we’re back to you again. Are you still worried about the shame? About everyone knowing but you?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“But they don’t,” Sul said, his voice softening a bit. “Most people in the world don’t know you’re a fraud.”
“My father, my mother, most of the court—they all must have been sniggering behind my back.”
“So what? More people believe in you than don’t.”
“They believe in a lie. You just said it.”
“Then become the truth, you idiot. Become what they think you are.”
Attrebus let that sink in for a moment.
“You think that’s possible?”
“I don’t know. But we can find out.”
“You’ll help me?”
“I suppose I must,” Sul sighed.
“Why?”
“You said it yourself—it’s just the two of us. We have to get to Morrowind, and we have to get there before Umbriel.”
“Why? What’s in Morrowind? How do you know Umbriel is going there?”
“It is, just trust me. And we’ll never beat it on foot or horseback. I think I might know the way, but we’ll need to make it to the Niben Valley first. And it would be helpful to have allies. The legendary Prince Attrebus ought to be able to drum up a few.”
Attrebus thought that over and found that it made some sense. “Thank you,” he finally said.
Sul nodded reluctantly.
“But here’s the thing …” Attrebus continued.
“What now?”
“Prince Attrebus wouldn’t take Lesspa’s money and betray his oath. He’d get the moon-sugar and bring it back to her.”
For a long moment Sul didn’t say anything, but then his shoulders seemed to relax slightly.
“Right,” he said.
Rimmen had elegant bones of ivory-colored stone with few towers but many domes. Soldiers—human soldiers—met them at the gate, searched them, questioned them, and eventually passed them through. For another hundred yards they snaked through the twists and turns of an entry overlooked by platforms for archers, mages, and siege weapons. That brought them to the market, a bustling, colorful plaza empty in the middle but girdled by tents and stalls and bounded by canals. A broad avenue flanked by even more expansive waterways continued on to what was clearly the palace, an ancient-looking structure raised up on a high, tiered stone substructure. The tiers held some buildings, and apparently earth, because he could see trees growing there. Surmounting that was a cylindrical building with a large golden dome. Water cascaded down the sides of the palace, feeding the pool that encircled it.
Attrebus wondered where all of the water came from.
Off to the eastern side of the palace, he could see the odd curly-edged roof of what had to be the Akaviri temple Annaïg had mentioned. The only place he’d ever seen with similar architecture was Cloud Ruler Temple, which he had viewed from a distance when he was ten, hunting with his father’s traveling court in the mountains north of Bruma. He remembered that trip with fondness—he’d killed his first bear.
Or maybe he hadn’t, now that he thought of it. It had been moving a little strangely when he saw it, hadn’t it? Had it already been wounded? Poisoned? Ensorcelled?
Why would his father have done that? Why all of this?
He pushed that down, trying to focus. He’d promised Annaïg a description of Rimmen.
He was surprised that fewer than half of the people he saw were Khajiit, and many of those lolled about with wild or vacant eyes, skooma pipes clutched in their hands. It was a strange sight to see in an open, public square. He began to understand Lesspa and her people better.
They left the plaza, crossing a canal on a footbridge and thence down a narrow street where gently chiming bells were depended between the flat roofs of the buildings and viridian moths flittered in the shadows. The addicts were even thicker here, a few watching them and holding out their hands for money; but most were shivering, lost in their visions.
They arrived at their destination, a smaller square with a fortified building surrounded by guards in purple surcoats and red sashes. A sign proclaimed the place to be KINGDOM OF RIMMEN STATE STORE.
Once again they were searched, questioned, and then passed into a low-ceilinged room where twenty or so people stood on line at a counter. Only one person, an Altmer, seemed to be dealing with the customers, but others worked behind him, wrapping paper packages into even larger paper packages.
“This was your idea,” Sul pointed out. He handed him the bag of coins.
“What do I do?” Attrebus asked.
“You’ve never stood on line, have you?”
“No.”
“Well, embrace the experience. I’m going to sit down. When you get to the man at the counter, I’ll come back.”
As bored as the man at the counter seemed from a distance, he somehow seemed even less enthusiastic when Attrebus and Sul reached him an hour later.
He took the gold, looked it over, and then weighed it.
“What do you want? He asked.
“Moon-sugar.”