The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part 2 Options

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The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl : Part Two
The Dunmer at the next table were discussing the haunting at the Gateway Inn, and complaining that they were being forced to curtail their business in Sadrith Mora since there was nowhere for them to stay. I remembered Prefect Angaredhel saying something about one of the Telvanni representatives looking into the problem. Perhaps I should look into it myself ~ and this Arara Uvulas seemed like a good place to start. I finished up my drink and headed down to the slave-market. Nodding to a couple of very muscular House Telvanni guards, I crossed the bridge towards the Council House. I say “bridge”, actually, it looked more like a root that had been flattened out on top and had coincidentally joined the Council Hall to the side of the cliff. (It would take quite a while before I got used to Telvanni “architecture”).

Inside the cool and dark building, a well-dressed Dunmer woman directed me to the council chamber. Behind the round wooden door was a large, circular chamber. The centre of the chamber was dominated by a massive crystal growth ~ from which a strange bluish-green light and a faint humming noise emanated. Around the outer radius of the chamber were a number of platforms, raised about head-height from the floor. On all but two of these stood well-dressed and aloof-looking Dunmer: the representatives of the Telvanni Council. Actually, it’s a little more complex than that, but I’ll try to clarify the status quo as I go on).

“Yes, I investigated the haunting at the Gateway,” the dark-haired Arara Uvulas said in response to my question. “At first it seemed like a traditional manifestation, even though the Gateway is a relatively new building and has no history of foul murder or dirty deeds. Nor, indeed, is it built on any known burial ground or religious site. I performed the standard exorcism, which seemed to work at the time. However, I’d barely left the chamber when the ghost came back again.

“I’ve tried several rituals and incantations since, but none of them work for more than a moment or two. I am, quite frankly, at a loss to explain why this spirit keeps reappearing and am beginning to suspect that there is some malicious intent behind it. A conjuration expert perhaps? However, I’m interested in why you’re interested.”

I couldn’t really explain why I was interested, and mumbled something about studying the application of magic. That seemed to arouse her interest in me even more, and she asked me to stay right where I was while she conferred with her fellow representatives. I didn’t see the harm in that, and stood there while they all closed their eyes and somehow spoke to each other. Don’t ask me how, because I won’t be telling you. Anyway, after a few moments silent communion, Arara Uvulas turned to me and asked, “Would you be interested in joining Great House Telvanni?”

“Let me tell you the rules of the house,” she went on, seeing that I was having some trouble framing a reply. “Then, perhaps, you’ll be able to make a decision.

“If you steal from another Telvanni, but still live, then clearly you deserve whatever you stole. Murdering your opponents by magic or treachery is the traditional way of settling disputes. If you win, then clearly your argument has more merit. You may be expelled as in any other Great House, but most Telvanni will not care or even know about it. These are the principle rules of Great House Telvanni, do you think you can abide by them?”

“Are there no other rules?” I asked, intrigued. That ‘if you murder your opponent and get away with it, your argument has more merit’ clause probably explained the strange behaviour of the Telvanni in Tel Naga after I fulfilled the bounty on Engaer.

“Power,” Uvulas said. “The acquisition of and exercise of power be it financial, magical, physical, or some other form of power. That’s the only other rule of the House. Now, tell me, can you abide by our rules and do you wish to join Great House Telvanni?”

I was, to be honest, feeling a little numb. I’d always been a loner, both with those that called themselves my parents and in the intervening years. I’d joined the Fighters Guild out of self-interest and, while they’d shown some interest in me, it was purely a professional one. I’d been rewarded for jobs done well and given fresh jobs to do. However, I’d had to ask to join the Guild, they hadn’t asked me. Now here was one of the ruling houses of Morrowind province asking, actually asking, if I was interested in becoming a part of their House. With a lump in my throat, I said that I’d be honoured to be counted a member of Great House Telvanni.

“Then,” Arara Uvulas said, “let me be the first to welcome you Hireling Vahl. May your presence in the House reflect well on all of us. For the moment, you will take your instruction from us, the Mouths of the Councillors. Likewise, we will answer any questions you have and give you instruction in the ways of the House. Now, I have a small task for you.”

“May I ask you a question?” when she indicated that I could, I continued. “I don’t understand. I thought that you were the Telvanni Council, yet you say that you represent the Telvanni Council.”

“Yes Sudhendra,” she explained. “The people we represent, the Masters of Great House Telvanni, rarely meet. Yet it is important that members of the Great House can pass messages to them, or perform duties for them, without having to travel to isolated places. That’s where we come in. we each represent a Master and speak for them in this forum ~ hence the title ‘Mouth’. I represent Master Neloth of Tel Naga. And right now, Master Neloth has need of five portions of Sload Soap. Here are five hundred Septims ~ you may keep any change.”

Taking the money, I walked out of the Council Chamber into the cool, damp, darkness of the outer corridors. “Excuse me,” I asked the Dunmer female nearby, “but do you know where I might be able to get some Sload Soap?”

“Your best bet is Anis Seloth,” the woman said. “She usually has a large supply of the rarer alchemical ingredients.”

“Thank you…” I said.

“Dalyne Arvel, Hireling,” she introduced herself.

“Sudhendra Vahl, Hireling,” I said by way of a reply. She smiled and welcomed me to Great House Telvanni. She then gave me concise directions on how to find Seloth’s shop. I was to find that news spread quickly in Great House Telvanni and, even before I stepped out of the Council Hall, people in Sadrith Mora knew I was part of the Great House. Even the guards, who’d mostly addressed me as “outlander” or (more frequently) “scum” were more kindly disposed to me. One of the burly guards protecting the entrance to the Council Chambers even went so far as to say “Fair day to you Muthsera.”

I found Anis Seloth’s shop easily enough; it was a large mushroom perched on a steep ridge overlooking the slave-market. Anis, herself, was a petite Dunmer who always gave the impression of being rushed off her feet. However, she was well supplied with a variety of potions and ingredients, and she had more than enough Sload Soap to fulfil Arara Uvulas’ requirements: the only matter now was the price. Anis Seloth was more than willing to haggle over the price and I eventually got a good price on the five packets of white, waxy Soap: two hundred and forty-three Septims. This left me a healthy two hundred and fifty-seven Septims profit. Well pleased with myself, I returned to the Council Chamber and handed the packets to Neloth’s Mouth.

After thanking me, she asked if I was willing to undertake another task for her Master. “Master Neloth collects staves,” she said. “And he has heard that someone at the Mages Guild at Wolverine Hall has a staff of the Silver Dawn. He very much wishes to add it to his collection…”

“Say no more,” I interrupted. “It will be my pleasure to fetch the staff for Master Neloth’s collection.” I waited a moment, but it was obvious that no clink was forthcoming. That meant that the lovely profit I’d made would probably be spent on the staff. Remember what I said about the gods and their japes?

I walked over to Wolverine Hall and made my way up to the Mages Guild. As luck would have it, the first person I spoke to was a Mage by the name of Arielle Phiencel, and it was Arielle Phiencel who had the Staff of Silver Dawn in her possession. Unfortunately she wouldn’t accept less than three hundred Drakes for it. Rather begrudgingly I handed over the money and took possession of the staff. It sang with that sweet magical note that all ensorcelled items have (for me, at least) but it certainly didn’t look very prepossessing. The silver was badly tarnished, and there were areas that looked like they’d been scorched with something fairly acidic. Still, a Staff of the Silver Dawn was what was required, and this was one.

As I turned to leave, a thought struck me. “Tell me,” I asked Arielle Phiencel, “who is the best at conjuration here?”

“That would be Uleni Heleran,” the Breton replied. “She teaches a course here at the Guild. Why?” By dint of some careful questioning, I managed to draw out some useful information. Namely that Uleni Heleran has been teleporting in and out of the Guildhall quite frequently of late. I was also told that Heleran had some sort of grudge against ‘someone in town’.

“I know what you’re doing,” I said to Uleni Heleran. At first, she tried to deny it but soon admitted that it was she who was conjuring up the spectre at the Gateway Inn. I persuaded her that it might have been fun to start with, but that the “joke” was wearing thin. She postured a bit longer, claiming that Angaredhel had fined her for not applying for Hospitality Papers when she arrived here. However, she soon relented and gave me a note ~ which she called “ghost-free papers” (a sad joke on Hospitality Papers I suppose) ~ to give to Angaredhel, along with a promise that she would stop her conjurations at the Gateway.

I stopped off at the Gateway Inn on my way back to the Telvanni Council Chambers and spoke to Angaredhel. As I expected, he was bloody furious when he found out that Uleni Heleran was responsible. When he’d calmed down a bit, he fetched out a small tray and showed it to me. “You’ve done well Ser Vahl,” he said. “For stopping that wretch from ruining me, please choose a ring.” There, on the tray, sat three very traditional rings: the burnished bronze and topaz of a Thieves’ Ring; the mottled copper and turquoise of a Fighters’ Ring; and the polished silver and jadeite of a Mages’ Ring. Naturally, I chose the Mages’ Ring.

“This is exactly what Master Neloth is looking for,” Arara Uvulas said as I handed over the staff. “It’s not particularly potent, but its spells are useful in a pinch. Do you know any combat-magic Ser Vahl?” when I admitted that I only knew a few spells, Uvulas took the time to teach me a cantrip designed to blind an enemy. I thanked her profusely, knowing that I’d gained just a little more knowledge. And knowledge, as every Telvanni knows, is power.

“If you feel up to more tasks today Hireling,” a clear voice called across the chamber. “I have a small job for you to undertake.” The speaker was Felisa Ulessen, Mouth to a Mistress Therana. I went over to speak to her.

“I have a skirt here that needs to be delivered to my Mistress at Tel Branora.” Lowering her voice, she added, “My Mistress can be a little… eccentric at times. Please take these scrolls in case you need them.”

Looking at the scrolls of ALMSIVI Intervention, I asked the obvious question, “where is Tel Branora?” Ulessen showed me on my map, adding that a boat was probably the best way to get there. Perhaps, perhaps not, I thought as I looked at the tiny islet far to the south on my map. Taking the skirt, I stood and spoke in a clear, concise voice “Ex hic absum, ut Ald’ruhn.”

To my delight, Delas Mrania had a Void-Walk spell for Tel Branora, which I promptly purchased. Then I had the Guild-Guide service send me to Balmora so I could rest for the night.

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Still unsure of what I should do next, I decided that I could head on up to Caldera and explore. I’d passed through, briefly, a few days ago. It had looked a typical Imperial town and, to be honest, I was trying to resolve my ambivalent feelings about that. On the one hand, I’d been brought up in (and had visited many) a town just like Pelagiad and Caldera. They were a known quantity, a familiar thing in a very unfamiliar place. You’d think, then, that the sight of them would make me… warm and fuzzy. However, the more frequently I visited them, the more I detested their bland sameness and longed for the strange and beautiful local architecture.

So musing, I passed the stark beauty of the Akatosh Shrine that stood beside the road, its gold and black banners fluttering in the breeze. Even though I was still in the region known as West Gash, the scenery around me was taking on more and more of the aspects of the Molag Amur. Not too distant, over the rolling hills, rose a massive line of sharp-backed mountains while the road I was on wandered around the base of a vast dark peak. As the straw-topped watch towers of Caldera came into view, my thoughts once more turned to the ancient cataclysm that must have ravaged this land.

I knew, now, that there was a vast volcanic region in the centre of the island and that this volcano had last exploded thousands of years ago. Even now, the echoes of that event surrounded me as I stood in the main square of Caldera ~ it must have raised up the mountains that surrounded the town, mountains that the slow passage of time had worn down to their current majestic peaks. Shaking myself out of my reverie, I started to explore the town.

Not that there was much to explore. Like all Imperial towns it boasted an Inn, a few shops and an Imperial garrison. The one in Caldera was particularly magnificent and obviously served as a home for someone of importance as well as the local guards. Of which there seemed to be a fair number.

“Ebony,” one of the locals explained. “That’s why there’s so many guards here. The main centre of Ebony mining is just up the road away, and there’s always someone who fancies his chances at pocketing a chunk or two. Strictly illegal, of course, and woe betide you if a guard catches you without a licence and a pocket full of the black stuff.” I knew of Ebony ~ who didn’t ~ but only as worked armour or weapons carried by the richest of the rich. I’d even seen some, once, a suit of black armour worn by an Inquisitor who rode through the village. The local went on to explain that the previous Imperial Governor of Caldera had been removed and sent far away because of irregularities in his ledgers. Ghorak Manor, his residence, had stood empty ever since. The new Governor lived in the imposing structure on the hill.

I went to look at Ghorak Manor, but it was shuttered and locked. One the door fluttered a notice that baldly stated the Manse was for sale and that anyone interested should speak to Daran Atard. I laughed, drawing the occasional odd look from the passers-by. The ‘offers around fifty thousand’ line at the bottom of the note amused me no end: who would ever accumulate that much money?

Irgola the pawnbroker was my next stop, for I remembered that Folms Mirel had told me he had one of the Propylon Indexes the mage needed. My guess is that Folms had attempted to purchase the item before since Irgola wouldn’t budge on the price.

“Five ‘undred,” he said adamantly, “take it or leave it.” With a long-suffering sigh, I counted out the coins as he reached under the counter and fetched out a large steel box. He rummaged inside and finally set something down on the counter in front of me. I blinked, I’d just spent about a third of my money on an unremarkable sliver of stone ~ dull grey and about the size of my thumb. I picked it up; noticing as I did that the flattened top of the sliver bore an inset circle of golden coloured metal. The other thing I noticed was that the object was magically inert ~ not even a flicker of song from it.

There were cold stares all around as I entered the Caldera Guildhouse, the mages eyeing me warily as I made my way upstairs. Mirel, at least, seemed pleased to see me and quickly relieved me of the tiny stone and replaced it with a leather pouch containing five hundred Septims.

“While you’ve been gone,” he said, “I’ve been doing some research. And I think I’ve found out where there is another Propylon Index. It seems that a pilgrim gave the stone to the temple in Vivec City. They, not knowing what it was, or what to do with it, sent it to the temple at Saint Olms. My guess is that they had no clearer idea what it was so they put it in storage. Find it for me, and I’ll pay you another five hundred Drakes.”

“Can you tell me,” I asked, “why I seem to be so unpopular with the Mages Guild all of a sudden?”

“Hmpf,” he muttered. “I would have thought the reason was self-evident… Telvanni.”

So that was what the ‘problem’ was. I was a magic-user that they didn’t control. Well, too bad for them. I made my contempt for their problems clear by swiping a complete alchemy set from an upstairs storeroom before leaving. I doubted that they’d miss it, given the disarray that the room was in: besides, I thought my need was greater than theirs.

Having grown bored with the delights of Caldera I headed north, following the weathered signs for a place called Hla Oad. The lushness of West Gash soon gave way to the different lushness of the Bitter Coast. There were insects buzzing everywhere and strange twisted fungi sprouted from the bases and trunks of the gnarled trees. The road, now heading downwards at a steep angle went past an ancient burial site, which the cartouche identified as the Norvayn Ancestral Tomb. Vast strands of ancient creepers overhung the door, whose rotting timbers sprouted more of those unpleasant looking fungal growths. Shivering slightly despite the heat, I carried on my way.

As the road wound it way around deep and rank-smelling pools, I soon found myself walking past the bulk of another of those ancient forts. According to my map, it was the fortress of Hlormaren but, after my experiences in Telasero, I was in no mood to venture inside and explore. So it was, by this circuitous route that I returned to Balmora and my welcoming bed.

[b]Here Ends the Second Part of the Tale of Sudhendra Vahl