The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part 3 Options

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Yestere had been extremely profitable for me, as I had pretty much spent the day practising various spells, summoning, and combat techniques, not to mention a little alchemy. While there was no chance I was ever going to be partaking of the three greasy and foul-smelling concoctions I’d produced as a result of my experiments ~ the other training had been extremely beneficial albeit tiring. So, it was with more than a little impatience that I responded to the hammering on the front door that awoke me this morning. I was just about to address the young individual with the appropriate venom when he thrust a parchment into my hand, saying, “Muthsera Hleran sends her compliments.”

The note was brief and to the point:

CODE

“The first stage of your stronghold is complete. Please contact me at your convenience to discuss further development.”

Even though I knew that, at this stage, my stronghold wouldn’t be inhabitable, it was excellent news indeed. Dressing quickly, I spoke the words of the translocation spell and found myself in Sadrith Mora. Making my way into the oddly lit cavern, I listened to what Llunela had to say to me.

“I’m glad you came Muthsera Vahl,” she said. “The initial phase of growth is now complete. However, your tower still needs to grow more and it will need to be shaped. Traditionally, a skilled Tekton does this but, regrettably, the current expansion on the mainland means that they are all very busy there. We could leave the tower to grow wild ~ which rarely results in anything useable.

“But, when traditional means are unavailable, we have to make do with something else. It is said that the Dwemer had an artefact that could shape materials using sound. The book I read, by an Imperial named Hevou Thath, said that he’d seen designs for one such artefact in the Dwemer ruins of Mzanchend. I need you to travel there and locate these drawings, if they’re still there.”

Conveniently enough, the ruins I need are quite close to Uvirith’s Grave: so travelling there was my first priority. I followed pretty much the same route as before and soon came to the twisted knot of roots and branches that would form the basis of my tower. They had grown considerably since the last time, now being something like twice the height of a Mer. The environs, unfortunately, hadn’t improved any: the dust still lay thick on the ground and blew up in choking clouds at the slightest breeze. There was one change, however: and not a pleasant one. At the edge of the raised area of land upon which stood the hillock my tower was growing on was a campfire. Advancing cautiously, I made my way towards it.

“Greetings,” the armoured woman standing by the fire said, “what brings you to this gods forsaken plot of land?”

“This land is mine,” I replied somewhat sharply, “as is yonder tower. What brings you to my property?”

“Ahh well,” she said, raising the visor of her steel helm and looking at me. “Firstly, my apologies for any offence Telvanni. I have a tendency to speak jocularly when, maybe, I shouldn’t. As to what I am doing here, it’s complicated.”

“So, uncomplicated it,” I demanded. She grinned wryly.

“At your command. My being here serves a two-fold purpose. The first is that I am a researcher: and what I am researching is the life and times of the Mage Uvirith. Where you aware that this is the very spot his body was discovered in?” I shook my head, although given that the area was named Uvirith’s Grave, I wasn’t overly surprised. “Yes,” she continued, “and a very odd death he seems to have died too. He vanished from the Guild over in Balmora and, eventually, they became concerned enough to mount an expedition to locate him.

“After searching for many days, they found his corpse somewhere around here. It seems that he fell from a great height ~ with the inevitable consequences. Which is strange, because he was an accomplished mage and knew spells of levitation and slow-fall. Even odder was the length of frayed rope tied around his waist ~ what it was tied to at the other end, nobody knows.”

“All very interesting,” I interrupted, “but not really telling me why you are here.”

“Well,” she said, flushing slightly, “his staff was never found, although they scoured the area. It was, and probably still is, a very powerful piece of magical equipment. I had hoped to find some trace of it. The other thing is, recently I came into possession of a book of his that suggests he was looking for something very special ~ and may even have found it.”

“And what would that be?” I asked. She mumbled something quickly and quietly that I didn’t catch.

“A flying Dwemer fortress,” she snapped when I asked her to repeat what she’d said. I laughed until the tears ran down my cheeks while she stood there glowering at me.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to splutter. “Are you telling me that you actually believe those children’s’ stories about a big flying castle that swoops down and rewards good children come New Life Eve?”

“Not in the slightest…” she started to say, then stopped and looked at me. “Perhaps,” she amended, “I’ve found that there’s often a grain of truth in even the most fanciful tales. But I’ve spent many years chasing those grains of truth and rarely found anything. Which means that I’ve spent a lot of money and have little to show for it…”

“Which brings you to the second reason you’re here?” I suggested warily.

“I have heard,” she said carefully, “that Telvanni Mage-Lords hire mercenaries and was wondering…”

“Well, I’m no Mage-Lord,” I replied “and have no need of mercenaries at the moment.”

“I’m willing to wait,” she replied. I nodded thoughtfully. I hadn’t really given any thought to the protection of my tower and, given my ambitious plans for my self, I really should. If I rose much higher than my current rank of Spellwright, I could expect the unwelcome attentions of the lower ranking Telvanni who wanted my position. A few mercenaries wouldn’t go amiss.

“I’d be willing to consider you for the position,” I said. “But I need to know that you’re trustworthy. No offence, but you could be here to gain a position with me and use that position to a rival’s advantage. Here’s a couple of hundred Septims as a retainer. Keep your eyes peeled,” I said as I handed over the money, “and when I come back I shall expect a report from you.”

Leaving Kallin Basalius to her assigned task, I followed Llunela’s directions until I found myself at the ruins of Mzanchend. The ruins were only small, much of what had existed was lost behind a massive cave-in, but they did boast a small array of those spider-type animalcules. Having filled a collection pouch with a small number of rubies and diamonds, I finally found what I hoped I was looking for ~ a small sheet of the strange material the Dwemer used for writing and drawing on, covered in bizarre symbols and lines.

There was one other interesting feature in Mzanchend. Opposite the main entrance there was a flight of stairs leading down to a small corridor. At the end was a massive Dwemer door ~ the ornate engraved kind rather than the simple iron doors that you usually find in a ruin. What made this door particularly interesting was the lock that sealed it. It was not a Dwemeric lock; rather it bore the ornate style of local manufacture. Whoever had placed the lock had seriously intended to keep people from whatever was behind the door: no amount of examination or magic seemed to make the slightest difference; it simply would not be opened.

With a resigned shrug, I left the intriguing lock (I admit, its presence there had piqued my interest) and made my way back to Sadrith Mora. There Llunela Hleran had something of a shock for me. She’d been studying the drawing I’d brought back for a while before she spoke to me.

“This device can be made: I have enough knowledge to make it myself. However it can only be used once and it’s going to cost five thousand Septims to produce.”

“Five Thousand!” I exclaimed.

“I’m afraid so,” she replied. “Some of the materials are going to be very difficult to obtain, and there’s a lot of work that needs to be done. It will take me a day, or two, to create this object but once it is done, your tower should be ready fairly quickly.”

It was with a heavy heart that I handed over the money, five thousand Septims represented almost every Drake I had accumulated since arriving here, save the money safely tucked away in the Bank of Vvardenfell. It was with a much lighter purse that I returned to Balmora ~ on the morrow I would have to see what could be done about replenishing my funds.

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Taking my leave of Edward Theman, I stepped back into the watery Balmoran sunshine and considered my next move. It wasn’t difficult and, five minutes later I was blasting apart the lock to the Hlaalo manor in High Town and sneaking inside. To be honest, my motivation was a little light-fingered work just for old times’ sake but the brutally butchered body of Ralen Hlaalo, sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, drove any thoughts of that from my mind. Whoever, or whatever if the rumours were to be believed, had killed him had been vicious almost beyond belief. Oddly, however, the wounds were not consistent with a knife: the weapon everyone said had killed this Hlaalu noble. They looked more… hacking wounds than stabbing wounds as though a small axe, rather than a dagger, had made them.

It was about then that I became aware of a soft noise upstairs, the sound of a woman sobbing. Moving stealthily since I had no real excuse for being here, I made my way up the stairs and pulled open the door from behind which came the soft sound of mourning.

“Please!” the Dunmeri woman squealed, “don’t kill me. I didn’t see anything, honestly I didn’t…”

“Calm yourself Muthsera,” I soothed. “I’m not here to harm you.” It took a lot of patient work to convince Uryne Nirith that I wasn’t there to hurt her and even more to persuade her to tell me what she knew. Amidst the sobs and tears, she told me that a Dunmer had killed her master.

“Not an Argonian with a knife?” I asked, determined to make sure.

“No Muthsera,” she managed between the tears. “A red-haired Dunmer with an axe.”

“Downstairs, in the main room?”

“No,” she said, “upstairs in the master’s chamber.”

“Riiiiight,” I said slowly. I had the picture now: a red-haired Dunmer with an axe, in the master’s chambers upstairs. Mortally wounded, Ralen Hlaalo had staggered to the top of the stairs, falling down them when he expired. So why, I mused as I made my way out of the manor house, was everyone accusing an Argonian?

“Elementary,” Nileno Dorvayn said when I asked her that very question. “Because the Argonian had means and motive. Nine-Toes makes regular deliveries to Hlaalo manor and was there on the day of the murder. Ralen sells slaves and was heard to comment that Nine-Toes would make an excellent slave. Means and Motive: just as I said.”

“Except I’ve heard it was a Dunmer,” I said.

“A Dunmer?” she repeated, obviously shocked.

“With an axe,” I added.

“And not an Argonian with a knife?” she said, with a disbelieving tone in her voice. I confirmed that I thought everyone was persecuting the wrong person and offered to assist in catching the real murderer. “And why would you do that, Telvanni?” she snapped.

I shrugged. “Seems to me that it would be in everyone’s best interest for the real murderer to be exposed and brought to justice. Rather than have an innocent killed…”

“I don’t trust you Telvanni,” she said, eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure what game it is you’re playing, but I’m sure it’s detrimental to Great House Hlaalu."

“What if I were to say that I knew the location of the Vassir-Didanat Ebony Mine,” I said calmly. “And that I’d be willing to pass that information on to House Hlaalu for the right price? Seeing as how it’s in Hlaalu-controlled territory?” (At least, for the moment it was I added silently).

“I couldn’t help you with that,” she said. Turning around, she plucked a yellow-bound book off the table behind her. “This gives the location of all of the councillors of Great House Hlaalu,” she said, giving it to me. “I suggest you speak to Crassius Curio in Vivec City, he is the most likely to be able to assist you in that matter. I shall let him know you’re likely to contact him…?”

“Sudhendra Vahl,” I said.

Her eyes widened and she looked at me closely. “That’s strange,” she said, “Larrius Varro was asking after you just the other day. He’s based in the Moonmoth Legion fort just outside Balmora. He wants to see you about something, wouldn’t say what.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I’d been studiously avoiding any contact with representatives of the Empire since Caius Cosades had unexpectedly made me a spy for the Blades. Now here was a Legion Champion, no less, asking questions about me and letting it be known he wanted to talk to me. And about a subject he wouldn’t discuss ~ that had an uncomfortable ring of official Imperial business about it. I decided that the best thing I could do was to go and see this Larrius Varro.

The Moonmoth fort was every bit as drab and austere as I’d expected it to be ~ undecorated stonewalls rising high around a blocky central keep. The only splash of colour was the silver device on the banner that fluttered above the shrine to Arkay in the courtyard. Larrius Varro was tall and heavily built, clad in that shiny armour so beloved of high-ranking Imperial officials.

“I have a present for you Novice Vahl,” he said, addressing me by the title that Cosades had given me. “A very nice present from the Emperor himself. But I can’t seem to remember where I put it. While I try to remember, how about I tell you a little story?

“Once upon a time, in a town that’s not so very far away,” he began as I sat down and listened to this lunatic. “There lived a very bad man in a position of power. Let’s call him, for argument’s sake, Magistrate Atrius. Now this very bad man took lots of bribes from other very bad men and, as a result of this, those very bad men never, ever went to jail. Now everybody knew that this bad man was doing this, but nobody could ever find any proof. And, because proof isn’t as important as the very powerful friends the bad man had, nobody could do anything about it.

“Now,” he continued, “at the same time there was this very good man, an officer of the law. He enforced the law because that way people were kept safe from the very bad men and safe people are happy people, right?”

I nodded, bemused and baffled by this ‘story’. Larrius carried on with his recital, “it really annoyed the good man that the bad man was releasing the criminals as quickly as the officer was catching them. The officer got very frustrated because the very bad man’s important and powerful friends protected him and made it impossible for the officer to do anything. Then, one day, the officer had a very pleasant thought.

“I can’t do anything about the very bad man, he thought, but perhaps I can do something about the people who are bribing the very bad man.” Larrius Varro smiled brightly, nodded, and carried on, “I mean, the officer thought, if those people weren’t around then the very bad man wouldn’t get any more bribes. And without the bribes, perhaps, just perhaps, he might not be able to afford his very powerful and important friends any more. And this made the good officer very happy. But there was a problem. Do you know what that problem is, Sudhendra Vahl?”

“I have no idea,” I replied, even though I had a very, very bad feeling about where all this was going.

“Well,” Varro said cheerfully, “the problem was, nobody would tell the officer who the naughty people were, the ones bribing the bad man. So the very good man offered up a little prayer, that the naughty people would get washed away… in a bloodbath… and never, ever bribe the very bad man again. Now, isn’t that a lovely story? Not a perfect story because it ends with a prayer, but a nice story nonetheless.”

“Interesting,” I said slowly, “but why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think you might be able to do what I can’t,” Varro said, “namely, finding out who those naughty men are. I know that they’re members of the Camorra Tong and that the Guild of Thieves knows who they are. But, because of who I am, they won’t tell me. But they might tell you.”
“So I would come and tell you who they are?” I queried hopefully.

“Oh no,” he replied. “I couldn’t possibly do anything about it ~ there’d be no proof so my hands would be tied. But you remember my story, and the little prayer the good officer said? That the people who bribe the bad Magistrate might get washed away?”

“That’s a very interesting story,” I said, rising to my feet. “But I don’t see what it has to do with me.”

“I can tell you more interesting stories,” Larrius Varro said. “There’s the one about the outlaw on the Hla Oad road, or the one about… No, I know the story you need to hear.

“There once was this criminal who came to a new land and she got the chance to start a new life instead of rotting in jail where she belonged. Now the good officer, you remember, the one from the previous story? Well, he was intrigued by this, and more intrigued by the fact that, no sooner had she arrived than she was given a position in a very special organisation, one that nobody is really sure exists. Now this prisoner starts to make a name for herself with a group of very powerful people, people who don’t like the Empire very much. The good officer wondered what would happen if those people knew that their new friend was part of a shadowy organisation that represents the very people they hate?”

“You wouldn’t dare!” I spat at him as I grabbed the hilt of my sword. He smirked at me, dropping his eyes to my sword-hand. I realised how foolish I was being, attacking him here would be insanity.

“You’d be surprised at what I would dare,” he said, patting me on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “Now, why don’t you go away and think about my little stories while I try to remember where I put that nice present for you? Meanwhile, I would also think about finding out who the pawnbroker, merchant, scout, thief, smith, and servant are.”

My mind was awhirl as I walked slowly back towards Balmora. I couldn’t believe the nerve of the Man, threatening me in that manner and getting me to do his dirty work for him. The problem was, I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I had no doubt that Larrius Varro would inform Great House Telvanni that I was part of the Blades, and even less doubt about what that little nugget of information would do for my promotion prospects. To say nothing of the suddenly reduced life expectancy I would, briefly, enjoy. I had two options, neither of them good.

Firstly, I could go along with the Legion Champion’s plan, find out who the ‘naughty men’ were and provide him with his ‘bloodbath’. The problem there was that course of action would leave me open to arrest, prosecution, trial, and a very unwelcome visit to the local lockup. Or, Gods forefend, back to Alabaster Imperial Prison.

My second choice was to inform Caius Cosades of Varro’s threat. And that course of action would put me firmly back in the Spymaster’s orbit, and I would be pressured into doing whatever inane tasks he had for me. One of those would doubtlessly be to spy on Great House Telvanni: and that I would never do.

So, rock ~ me ~ hard place. Not a happy position to be and my self-delusion that I had two choices was not helping at all. Even if I spoke to Cosades, there was no guarantee that Varro didn’t have the means to reveal my ‘secret’ to the Masters of the House. Gods, but I really hate these Imperial officials. Right there and then I swore, on my honour, that I’d make Larrius Varro pay for putting me in this position: pay a very high price indeed.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Sottilde said when I asked her about the Camorra Tong.

Making sure that we were unobserved, I showed her the pile of coins in my hand. She looked at them, nodded and mouthed ‘later’ before making them vanish with all the skill of a trained pickpocket. So it was, in the dead of night, there came a knocking on my door and Sottilde slipped inside.

“I must be quick,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll be missed. So listen carefully, I’ll say this only once. The scout is Vadusa Sathryon; the pawnbroker is Marasa Aren; and the thief is Madrale Thirith. Thanelen Velas is the merchant and Sovor Trandel is a savant, not a servant.”

“Where will I find them?” I asked as she turned back towards the door.

“Where any self-respecting member of the Camorra Tong would hang out in Balmora,” she replied, “the Council Club.” And, with that, she was gone.