Disclaimer: The awesome game belongs to me, but not the rights to it.

Destrina forced her eyelids to part, and stared numbly at the wooden darkness around her. She lifted an arm to her aching head, felt her skin crackle and tear, and cried out in pain.

"Shush-shush!" A thin figure scuttled out of the darkness, and Destrina felt some kind of a salve being applied to her skin by a gentle hand. "Still you must be, and quiet also! Greatly hurt are you. Flames from fingers touched you, never kind, never caring."

The wizard. Destrina's breath caught in her throat. That was the last thing she remembered. The wizard had ambushed her and Rock-In-The-River, and had all but killed her. The shadows peeled back, and Destrina recognised the face of the Argonian slave she'd freed from the doorman. "Oon-Wai? Where am I?"

The Argonian shook her head and continued to tend to Destrina's burns. "Not-not Oon-Wai am I. You must be mistaken, lady Redguard. I am Own-Way. Yes. Own-Way." She smiled to herself. "Not Oon-Wai… for any longer. But as for where? In a ship you are, a ship across the waters, which no longer sails as it should. It waits here, yes, waits like a good pet for the one who owns it to return. Carried you through waters here, did I."

"Rock's ship… His home," Destrina sighed, understanding, and she looked around as far as her wounded head would allow. "But where's Rock?" Fear gripped her. "What happened? Is he alright? Did the wizard…" She looked to the former slave, scarcely daring to hope. "Is Rock even alive?"

Oon-Wai considered Destrina a moment in silence. "I do not know," the Argonian said softly. "I saw you be wounded, yes, and I took you to where it was safe. Where our honoured Marsh-brother told us to flee should there danger be." She looked grim for a moment. "And danger there has been, muchly and lately."

Rock-In-The-River couldn't see where they were taking him, but he didn't need to. The smell of the air was the same as it had always been, the sounds just as familiar. Vivec city's stone walls, the creaking metal grate, the stench of the sewers, the soft smell of candlelight and herbs. Rock let himself be dragged and prodded and pushed through the muck and up ladders and across platforms and through trapdoors and wherever else they saw fit to take him. His head was covered in a sack, his arms were bound, he had been disarmed, his leg was still bleeding and useless, and there were more than enough hands here to keep him still and eyes on him to preventing him from trying something. But Rock wasn't going to fight them all, not here. Not now. What was the point?

They were taking him right where he needed to go.

Destrina tried to sit up again, but her whole body roared in protest and pain. The Redguard muffled her own scream and screwed her eyes shut tight. I shouldn't do this, she thought weakly, but what choice do I have? She barked a command word, and a blue-white glow covered her body. The scars and burnt tissue were healed almost immediately, but Destrina knew she'd pay for such an extensive surge of magical healing later. Already she could feel the beginnings of a savage headache and a heavy weariness falling on her. She'd pushed herself too far already today. But she intended to push herself just a little further.

"Rock-In-The-River," the Redguard asked, shouldering aside her concerns and hauling herself to her feet. "Where is he? Is he alright?"

Oon-Wai also stood, and faced Destrina as an equal. "Not knowing, sera," she said gently. "Own-Way, as this one is, saw you fall, and came to aid you. A debt to pay I hoped to, and saved you I have. But our Marsh-brother remained standing, and fighting much was he." She held up one clawed finger, stopping Destrina's outburst before it began. "Saw him live, did I, honoured sera. Looked back, I did, as saving you I did. With aid, defeated the wizard he has."

Destrina took a breath to sigh, relieved.

"But his blood will be spilt soon, I think, honoured sera."

The sigh turned to a choked gasp.

Oon-Wai fixed Destrina with a serious eye. "What rules he has broke, know not do I. But came to capture him came many. And not even the gift of his birth-star was able to save him."

Destrina closed her eyes a moment, trying to shake her head. For him to have come this far, to have done all that was asked of him - and more, so much more - and he was to die? He'd risked his life, his reputation, his freedom, in pursuing the Mad-Elf, in aiding Destrina and even saving her life. The Redguard lifted her head, eyes glinting. Time I repaid the favour, she thought darkly.

She'd already risked her life by healing herself with such a significant spell. But at that moment, Destrina didn't really care. She motioned for Oon-Wai to step back, focused on the shape of her birthsign in her mind, and slowly enunciated a string of unintelligible words.

Someone kicked both of his legs out from under him, and Rock found himself kneeling on a cold stone floor, with his captors' weapons pressed against his scales. He did his best not to give a sardonic smile under the hood. He knew exactly where he was, and why he'd been brought here. He knew the smell of this room, of these people.

He considered sending up another prayer to Azura, but discarded the idea immediately. He was surrounded, and even if somehow the Daedric Prince granted Rock's request to become invisible for a third time in one day - which would not only be pushing Azura's patience but the limits of Rock's own birthsign (and who knows what kind of repercussions that would have) - Rock would get nowhere. Even invisible, those who surrounded him were pressed so close that he would be found immediately. Invisibility wouldn't help him. Nothing short of a miracle would.

"Blind Thrall," Eno Hlaalu's red eyes burned furiously as he tore the hood from Rock-In-The-River's head, "You stand here, accused of the basest treachery against the Morag Tong. How do you plead?"

Rock closed his eyes and sighed. "I fulfilled my duty," he said, voice low and defeated. He felt sapped, sapped of the strange fierceness that had been inspired in him now that the one who inspired such defiance was dead. "I killed deh Mad Elf, as was the writ I had been assigned." He glanced up, briefly. "For what reason, Guildmaster, am I on trial?" The blades pressed into Rock's spine dug a little deeper, and Alrene's knife against Rock's throat curved slightly against his scales, a little harder, a little closer to the vein.

There was likewise no sympathy in Eno's eyes. "You, Blind-Thrall, have sullied the honour of the Morag Tong. You enlisted the help of an outsider to the Webspinner's business, even one who had a writ on her own head."

Rock seethed quietly. Destrina was no criminal. She was just a victim to politics. He bowed his head. Just as I am.

"You let the Mad-Elf kill again." Eno paused a moment, then ceded, "Though this death allowed you to track her and catch her, you failed to stop her from her rampage. You failed to collect your writ, allowed another with a writ to be lost, and are responsible for the death of one of the Morag Tong's most powerful patrons. In short, Blind-Thrall, you have failed. Your failure speaks of outright disobedience, defiance, and treachery of the lowest order. You are, therefore, to be executed before Mephala's altar. Thus, balance within the Web shall be restored." The Guildmaster turned his back on Rock and the other assassins of the Morag Tong, and took a glass knife from a sheath at his waist.

Rock smelled magic on the air, coming from the altar, and he tensed himself, frills flat against his skull. It seemed as though Mephala herself was stirring, eagerly watching this proceeding.

"Have you anything to say in your defence, Blind Thrall?" The glass knife glinted darkly in the candlelight.

Rock glanced up to Eno. "Yes, sera," he said softly, "No, sera. Three bags full, sera."

The Guildmaster pulled his lip sidelong, something of a sneer - but also something of a smile - then drew back his arm ready to strike.

The smell of magic intensified, and the light from the candles was gradually made insignificant as a bright glow filled the room. The light started small, but gradually grew and grew, a hot-white light which coalesced over the altar of Mephala. Eno shielded his eyes with his arm, and those Morag Tong agents holding and guarding Rock all flinched. Even Rock was forced to squint, turning his head as best he could to protect his eyes. What is this? He wondered, afraid, Some avatar of the Webspinner come to witness my death?

Through the light a single figure materialised, armed and roaring in rage. And then the light died, and standing on the altar, mace brandished and wreathed in magic, was a furious Redguard.

"Stand down, dogs," Destrina snarled, "Or die where you are!"