“I am not looking for her spoon again,” Tara said.
“Come on,” Katla said. “Wylandriah is helping me.”
Tara crossed her arms. “No. She can find another idiot to do it. I literally found it for her two days ago. How absentminded can one be?”
Tara and Katla sat together on a bench along the docks in Riften. They’d been staying in Riften for just over a week now, waiting for Wylandriah, Riften’s court wizard, to give Katla some clues about the red soul gem.
The Winter Solstice, and new year, would arrive in a few days. Riften still looked like fall. Katla had been correct to suggest they winter here. Snow fell on the city, but it didn’t stick, and the weather reminded Tara more of what Cyrodiil had to offer. Cold, but bearable.
The land around the city was stunning. Tara had seen so many beautiful places in Skyrim already. The pine forests near Falkreath, the prairies of Whiterun. The aspens that dominated The Rift, with their blazing orange, yellow, and brown leaves against white trunks, beat all she’d seen before. The beauty sometimes took her breath away.
How such a corrupt city, a city she immediately disliked, could be the capital of it didn’t make sense.
Her dislike had started at the main gate to the city. The guards had demanded a “visitor’s tax”, saying they could not enter without paying. Tara had called them out for the obvious shakedown and they’d backed off.
Cowards, she’d thought.
They’d received thinly veiled threats from Maul, a brute sized Nord, who’d interrupted them as soon as they stepped inside the city, to not mess with the Black-Briar family.
When Tara had asked who they were, Maul had laughed and told them they’d know soon enough.
Then, there was Brynjolf, who immediately rubbed Tara the wrong way. He’d made assumptions about her and Katla and tried to rope them into some scheme. It hadn’t taken more than a day to figure out he was part of the Thieves Guild. It seemed open knowledge they operated within the city. Tara had told him off several times already.
One person Tara had liked immediately was Mjoll The Lioness, a warrior and adventurer, who seemed determined to clean up Riften. Katla and Tara were staying at The Bee and Barb, the local inn, well, the one of good repute, and had already spent a few nights drinking with Mjoll and her patron…friend…Tara wasn’t sure, Aerin, the man who’d rescued her out of a Dwemer ruin. Here was a woman with a good heart and belief in honor.
For all of her dislike of the obvious corruption in Riften, Tara did like the look of the city. The canal running through it, the dark wood and stone most of the buildings were built with. It reminded her of parts of Bravil. The Docks were her favorite area.
Here, they could look out across Lake Honrich and enjoy the land outside the city. Tara also liked the people working the docks; a few Argonians who worked the fishery. Down to earth, just surviving in a land that wasn’t especially welcoming. They, of all the people, evoked the heart she’d felt by the citizens in Bravil. They were what was good about Riften.
“You’re right,” Katla said. “Wylandriah is odd.” Katla took a deep breath. They both shared a love of being near docks and water. There was something to breathing the air near a large body of water. “Just hope she can give us some answers.”
Tara nodded. “Speaking of, how about we have another back and forth?”
Katla gave her a mischievous look. “Good idea. We have the time. Ask away.”
They were enjoying the early afternoon, waiting to meet with Wylandriah later in the day. After mentioning she was missing her spoon again, she’d told them to see her again this afternoon.
Tomorrow, Tara was due to start working at Merryfair Farm, which sat outside Riften, near the stables. She looked forward to doing familiar, honest work. Everything inside Riften felt like corruption and politics. Though, Katla was working as an apprentice for Balimund, the local blacksmith. Katla felt lucky, as he already had Asbjorn Fire-Tamer as an apprentice. Business had picked up, though, as tensions between the Stormcloaks and Imperials were rising, so demand for weapons and armor was up. He’d been happy to gain another pair of hands. Today would be their last day off together until the holidays.
“You told me you were born in Dragon Bridge, your mom worked at the tavern, your dad around town doing odd jobs. Then, you moved to Solitude, your mom worked at the alchemy shop and your dad helped the merchants in the market,” Tara said.
Katla nodded. “Yes. I think in Solitude is when they must have started with their necromancy. Or, had more access to ingredients and supplies. Maybe that’s even why they took those jobs.” Katla sighed. “I don’t know. I was only eight, so, there’s not much I understood back then.”
“Then you moved to Cyrodiil?”
Katla nodded. “Yes. To Chorrol. You ever been there?”
Tara inhaled. “No. Freta and I were headed there when…” she paused. “That’s where we were headed when she died.” She looked away from Katla, out over the water. Would the memory always tempt tears?
Katla reached out her hand, touched Tara’s face, and slowly turned it towards hers. They gazed at each other. Katla leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead, with the same tenderness as Freta had in the dream…premonition…at High Hrothgar. She then kissed her on the lips. Not with the intense fire that sparked within their other kisses. This one was soft, compassionate. A comfort.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice was as soft as the kiss, the words meant only for her.
She straightened up and looked out over the water. “I never cared for Chorrol. Never suited my Nord blood. Too uppity. I liked Bruma a lot, when I visited. I think it’s the only city in Cyrodiil I’d actually live in, if I ever went back.”
Tara smiled. “I like Bruma a lot, too. Colin and Eris are wonderful people.”
“Ye Olde Special Brew will put one on the floor,” Katla said. “I think I flirted with Colin when I had a few of them there.”
Tara burst out laughing. “I definitely flirted with him. That voice of his.”
Katla raised an eyebrow. “Are you even attracted to men?”
“Not at all.”
“I wasn’t sure if I was,” Katla said. “This was when I was seventeen, having left home…” now it was her turn to pause. “…after they died.” She cleared her throat. “I stayed in Bruma for a few days. Didn’t want to risk staying too long, you know.” She looked out over the water.
Sunlight sparkled off the water, adding a deep tone to the air. The afternoon was turning into the kind one could lose all sense of time in.
“Anyway,” Katla continued. “I remember waking up the next morning with the worst hangover, apologizing profusely to Colin and Eris, and realizing I didn’t even know why I’d flirted with him. I wasn’t attracted to him, kind as he is. Women are…” she paused again. “There’s mystery, magic, and comfort.” She smiled at Tara.
Tara took in her eyes, they looked more golden in the moment, with the sunlight off the water highlighting them. A question crossed her mind.
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
Katla blushed. “No.”
“I guess with everything that happened to you…”
“I’ve kissed before. Fooled around some when I was younger, with classmates,” Katla said. “But, no, since my parents died, I haven’t felt able to trust anyone, or stayed anywhere long enough, to get to know anyone. Not until you.”
Tara gave her a gentle smile. “I feel lucky, then.”
“You were so bold with that mead you offered me,” Katla said. “And…so gorgeous. You took my breath away.” Tara took a turn at blushing.
“I thought it had to be a trick,” Katla said. “Someone had found me and they were using you to get to me. Or, you were part of the group. I looked in your eyes, though, and could see such a kind heart in them.” Katla smiled. “I had to take a chance. So, I put on my defense of teasing and aloofness.” She looked back over the water. “I’m glad I took the chance.”
“Me, too,” Tara said. They both looked over the water for a time. The sun warmed their faces.
Katla finally stood. “We should go see if Wylandriah has any answers for us.”
Tara stood, too. “When will you tell me about how your parents died?”
Katla paused, lost in thought. “When you tell me the whole story of Freta’s death.”
She held up a hand. “I don’t mean to pry and bring up such pain, but…”
She took a deep breath. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this. It’s going to be hard for me to give it voice. I think I need to hear someone else’s…pain, to give me courage.” Her eyes implored. “I…I think you’re one of the few people that will truly understand.”
Tara nodded. “We share a type of grief not everyone does.”
“Yes,” Katla said. “I think that’s what I’ve been waiting for. Someone who gets me on that level.”
“Then let’s see if Wylandriah knows anything,” Tara said. “And, then, we need to plan what we want to do for the New Life Festival.”
Katla laughed. “Drink a lot of mead is on my list.”
They ended up drinking a lot of mead that night.