The Story of Trey- Chapter 7 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 7

My life had become ever more complex from the moment I stepped out of that jail in Cyrodiil. Some of that complexity was due to forces far beyond my control. Empires, religious cults, even a semi-mythic devil seemed to be competing for my loyalty and perhaps even for my soul. All I could do about that was remain vigilant and listen to the saner voices inside my head. But the other complexity, the maze I had built for myself by joining so many guilds, I could control. All of my obligations to the guilds were paid. The Mages were so absorbed in their studies that they didn't remember who I was half the time. As for the Thieves, I had done what I could to reduce the threat posed by the Camonna Tong. They weren't defeated by any means, but would have to move more cautiously for a while. The Temple- I would have to think about that.

The Ashlanders certainly believed that the Tribunal were false gods and betrayers. It might be wise to wait until I knew more before getting too deep into the Temple. That left the Blades and House Redoran, opposites in many ways, including how I had "joined." The Blades had drafted me at the direct order of the Emperor and seemed determined to use me up in the pursuit of their unfathomable goals. House Redoran had accepted me, treated me with respect, and made me family. Before I had been put out on that dock in Seyda Neen, I hadn't even realized that a family was what I wanted most. I had believed that wealth and all it signified would be enough. Now I knew better. When I saw the loyalty that a man like Athyn Sarethi inspired, my course was clear. Naturally, I had chosen the House whose back was to the wall in many ways. The other Great Houses were using Redoran's sense of honor against them at every turn. The Hlaalu's criminal connections and lack of ethics gave them a huge edge in business. They had managed to bribe their way into exclusive control of many of the best contracts. Telvanni's ancient wizards accumulated power the way a tree grows new rings, slowly and quietly. They had the patience of spiders. Still, I had made the right choice- although I was a thief, I wasn't a liar or a cut-throat. In my own peculiar way, I had a code of honor that equaled House Redoran's.

Sarethi had asked me to give him a day or two while he decided how to make use of my talents. He was caught in a struggle between his honor and his belief that Bolvyn Venim was not leading the House as he should. Complicating that conflict was the issue of his son, Varvur. Meanwhile, I had a little free time to do as I would. I glanced over the purposely obscure notes I had kept to see if there was any unfinished business I should take care of. There was a notation to look up Emusette Bracques in Tel Aruhn, and another to try to get the Indoranyon propylon index from Divayth Fyr. Those errands both required traveling to the eastern part of the island, an area I did not know. Instead, I decided that this was a wonderful opportunity to spend some time with my books. My collection had grown significantly, and I hoped that some of the books might provide more insight into what was happening. In the end, my session of reading didn't really enlighten me any further, but it did relax and refresh me. The time until my appointment with Athyn Sarethi passed quickly. The Redoran councilor thanked me again for rescuing his son and then asked if I would be willing to do him another favor. Although he could not believe that Varvur would have murdered his friend Bralen, the evidence seemed strong. Athyn asked that I speak to Varvur and discover if there was some way to clear him of the murder charge. It was clear that Athyn Sarethi was torn between his love for his son and his sense of honor. I was pleased that he thought enough if me to entrust me with this task.

Varvur was in his quarters; he looked as if he had not slept well for some time. When I asked him about the death of Bralen Carvaren, he denied responsibility, but admitted that the guards had found him near the body. Varvur added that he had no memory of that night at all, then noted that he had been having bad dreams. When I asked him about the dreams, he haltingly described vivid nightmares that included him murdering his friend. But then he added that the dreams had started before the murder, around the time he had been given a peculiar statue. He asked me if I would mind removing the statue, as its presence was troubling him. When I examined the statue, it appeared to have been formed of ash and had a greasy feel. Moreover, when I handled it, a faint queasiness came over me and I seemed to almost hear a voice whispering to me. I could understand why young Sarethi wanted the eldritch object removed. It also seemed worth asking his father about. Athyn apparently felt the same unease handling the statue as I had- he asked me to take it to Lloros Sarano at the Temple to see if it might explain Varvur's behavior. I was more than happy to give the thing into the keeping of the Temple; the longer I was in its presence, the more I felt as if someone were standing just out of my peripheral vision. Lloros Sarano was immediately able to determine that the ash statue had been enchanted with some sort of conjuration. He asked me to send Varvur Sarethi to him, feeling certain that he could clear him of the murder charge. He expressed little doubt that the statue had influenced Varvur. When I gave the message to the younger Sarethi, he promised to go to the Temple immediately. He also mentioned that he had remembered where the statue had come from- Galtis Guvron had given it to him.

It seemed that my earlier suspicion that someone was trying to weaken the Sarethi family and House Redoran was correct. I decided that I would find Guvron at the Rat in the Pot and ask him some probing questions, such as where he had gotten the statue. After all, an attack on Redoran was an attack on me, and an attack on the Sarethis was an attack on my family.

Before I went to confront Galtis Guvron about the ash statue, I briefly considered talking it over with Athyn Sarethi. In the end, I decided it would be better to keep him out of this little operation- he had some peculiar ideas about things like "proof" and "honor." Don't misunderstand me, I respected him and his commitment to doing what was right- which was why he didn't need to be bothered with this. If Athyn ordered me to bring Guvron in for a trial, I would have to try. Meanwhile, whoever else was behind the ash statues would have a chance to get away. My methods might not meet with Athyn's approval, but I was interested in results.
The Rat in the Pot was the sort of establishment that shows up in every town of any size, even one run by House Redoran. It was the headquarters for the local Thieves Guild and a place where most things could be purchased, provided you knew who to ask and weren't too particular about bills of sale. Because I had wanted to keep the Redorans from knowing about my past and my less savory associations, I had stayed away from the place. Now, though, I had a very good reason to walk into the seedy dive. My reaction to the place surprised me a bit- I was put off by what I saw. Before, this had been the sort of club that seemed like "home" to me; now I recognized that most of the denizens were just looking for a way to make a fast drake, without regard for how they got it or who got hurt. And worse, their "loyalty" was for sale to the highest bidder- if there was no one else to rob, they would rob each other. Not so long ago, my feet had been set on that same path. I didn't regret my skills, nor the uses to which I had put them, but I had something more to live for, now. And what I had was bigger than me, bigger than simply making money as a way to keep score. I would do what was necessary to protect my new family. And so it was that I found myself approaching Galtis Guvron in the back room of the bar. He appeared glad to see me, no doubt thinking I had come in on Thieves Guild business. That changed when I asked him where he had gotten the ash statue that he gave to Varvur Sarethi. For a second, he was stunned, but he recovered quickly.

Muttering, "I'll take care of this myself," he pulled a pair of daggers and attacked.

That proved to be a fatal mistake. Although he might have been a good smuggler, he was no fighter. The last several months I had spent refining my skills paid off, though, and he was soon sprawled on the floor. True to the nature of the place, none of the other patrons so much as raised an eyebrow. Unfortunately, a dead Galtis Guvron couldn't answer any questions- unless he had some kind of clue on his body.... A quick search turned up several more ash statues, which I resolved to hand over to the Temple, and a note from someone named "Hanarai." The note instructed him to place more statues in Ald'ruhn "where they would do the most good." This was more than just a plot against the Sarethis, then. Someone had developed an insidious attack on all of Vvardenfell. When I returned to hand over the other statues, Lloros Sarano asked me how I had come across them. I explained about Guvron and the note, and the priest recognized the name. He said it sounded like a woman named Hanarai Assutlanipal, who had recently come to Ald'ruhn, claiming to be an outcast Ashlander. Sarano asked me if I would talk to the woman, but warned me that she might react as violently as Guvron. Against that possibility, he gave me several healing potions "just in case."

The priest's powers of prediction proved accurate, Hanarai didn't even give me a chance to ask any questions before she said, or rather recited the following cryptic words, "It is the Hour of Wakening. Dagoth Ur awakes and comes forth in his glory, and his people shall rejoice, and his enemies shall scatter like dust."

Her eyes had glazed over as she spoke and she immediately launched a determined attack. She seemed to have been a more accomplished killer than Guvron; at any rate, her blade caught me several times before I finished her. There were no clues on her body, other than another ash statue, and the upper part of the house was furnished as one would expect. When I breached the trapped and locked door to the basement, though, all sense of normalcy was dispelled. As soon as I swung the door open, the stench of incense and decaying flesh told me I had found a focus of evil and madness. The entire room had been converted into a shrine to the Sixth House, House Dagoth. Candles and wall-hangings created an eerie atmosphere, which was only made worse by the sacrifices of flesh from corprus beasts. Finally, in one corner, I found a crate containing more ash statues. Those I removed for disposal by the Temple. As I left that foul basement, I recalled Addhiranirr in Vivec, talking about the Sixth House and smuggling. Perhaps these evil statues were the contraband that had most of the smugglers occupied and too frightened to talk. With no more names, I was at a standstill. While the problem in Ald'ruhn had been solved, it was only a temporary fix. Although Sarano thanked me for stopping the movement of ash statues into the town, I wasn't satisfied. If the Sixth House had placed one agent here, they could send another. If I was going to protect my new home, I was going to have to learn more about the Sixth House. And that would mean going to Ilunibi, where someone named Dagoth Gares waited. Dagoth Gares, who had wiped out almost an entire Legion patrol and left the lone survivor infected with corprus.

The idea of going into Ilunibi filled me with dread. The very name seemed to have the taint of death. Maybe talking with Raesa Pullia at Fort Buckmoth would help. She was the Legion Champion in command of the soldiers from the ill-fated patrol. If she could give me a better idea of what I was facing, maybe my fear could be reduced to a more manageable level. And maybe what she had to say would scare me even worse, if that was possible. Whatever the result, I needed to talk to her. I needed to find out whatever I could about Dagoth Gares- for example, where his name came from. House Dagoth was supposed to have been destroyed- the members executed or absorbed into other Houses. Of course, a great many things that "everybody knew" to be true had turned out to be wrong. What was certain was that something had destroyed a Legion patrol, leaving the lone survivor infected with a terrible disease. And what was equally certain was the fact that I had to go investigate the place if I was going to be able to live with myself. Even if it killed me.

[treydog]

That seemed to exhaust that topic so I asked about the "one of his wives" remark. She shrugged and said matter-of-factly, "Yes. Well. Not 'wife' in the 'married' sense. But... you know. 'Paramour.' 'Consort.' Something like that. It's a bit awkward, really. Because... well... he made us, too, so, though we aren't really his daughters or anything, it's like we were his daughters. Because he made us. You see?"

No, I really didn't see. On the other hand, it didn't much matter. Because what I was really there for was to see Lord Fyr. Beyte explained that he was in his study, high up in the tower and that the only way to reach him was via Levitation. That was the most sensible thing she had said. Talking with Beyte was like being spun around in a whirlwind- I got dizzy just trying to keep up. But, for now, she was finished, so I could think over the "options" she had presented.

Perhaps, if I had heard of Divayth Fyr and his fabulous tower a few months earlier, I might have been tempted to come and try my hand at "plundering the dungeon." Then again, perhaps not. It was never my intention to be known as the "best thief in Tamriel." My idea of a successful thief was one nobody had ever heard of. If you had a reputation as a great thief it meant one of two things- either you had made up a lot of stories about yourself and spread them around, or else you had been caught. Either way, you weren't really a very good thief. Besides, I had gotten into it for what I could get out of it- not for a challenge. It was a lot easier to get rid of a bunch of regular gems or the contents of some rich guy's liquor cabinet than it was to make any money from a unique item. Here is an example: Let's say you were able to dodge all the traps and guards and undead guardians and steal the giant ruby that was the eye in the statue of the One-Eyed God. And you were able to get back out alive. Now what? Who were you going to sell it to? When people refer to something as "priceless," they think that means it can't be bought for all the money in the world. Well, what can? Who has "all the money in the world?" At some point, "priceless" and "worthless" mean the same thing- that you can't get any money for your trouble. And add to that the fact that merchants like to talk over a few drinks just like anyone else. Pretty soon, the Cult of the One-Eyed God has a really good description of you and they're highly motivated to find you. So I didn't think I would have come to Tel Fyr with theft in mind.

And, although I did have corprus, I wasn't ready to consign myself to the corprusarium. In fact, I wasn't sure if I would ever be ready for that. My sense of responsibility to others only went so far, after all. Meeting Divayth Fyr, on the other hand, well, that was what I had come here to do. But now that it was time to do so, I was almost unable to continue. How do you even talk to someone who has lived for over 4000 years? What do you say? If I offended or angered Fyr, he might refuse to treat the disease. And what if the "cure" didn't work? To him, it would just be another entry in a notebook, probably with an additional note that the madness took the form of a deluded belief that I was Lord Nerevar reincarnated. And that would be all the "immortality" I would ever have- a couple of lines in a notebook. But my continued existence- preferably as a human being, not a corprus beast- was of more than scientific interest to me. What finally got me moving wasn't fear of dying. Rather it was the same thing that had carried me through so much already- a combination of nerve, anger, and youthful ignorance. So what if Divayth Fyr was a legend? So what if he had created his own wives? (Well, actually I thought that was kind of a clever trick, particularly given my lack of success with women.) When I left High Rock, it was because I believed I was as good as anyone else.

Divayth Fyr might kill me, he might turn me into a toad, he might ask me to perform some seemingly impossible task- but he would not ignore me. One way or another, I would get his attention, appeal to his scientific soul. The very fact that I had corprus would work to my benefit- after all, he was researching the disease. The corprusarium was partly an act of kindness, but it was also a grand experiment, an attempt to meet a challenge. From my own rudimentary studies, I knew that, to a true scientist, an "unsolvable" puzzle was like an itch that can't be scratched. This disease was an affront to Divayth Fyr's belief that everything was knowable, everything was possible. To Fyr, there was no such thing as a question without an answer- it was simply that no one had found the right answer. When you are young, as I was then, you believe in reasons and causes and fairness. You don't realize that some things simply are. And so it was that I had to talk myself into doing the only thing I could do. Or perhaps it was simpler than that- perhaps I was just petrified by the idea that I might become a monster when I had barely had a chance to be a man.

Now that my mind was made up, all I had to do was find the Lord of Tel Fyr. I left Beyte and turned right, which soon brought me to a ramp sloping downward. That didn't seem right- Beyte had indicated that I would need to levitate to get to the wizard's study. On the other hand, wizards were known for being devious- maybe I would have to go all the way to the basement before I found the passage to the upper levels. Soon enough, I found another Dunmer woman, who introduced herself as Delte Fyr, another of Divayth Fyr's "wives." She was less friendly than Beyte, but also more informative. She explained that I would need to go to the "Hall of Fyr" and then look for a central "flywell" to reach Divayth Fyr's study. As I left the room, I noticed a golden door across the passage. What drew my attention was the fact that the door had a fairly complex lock and also showed signs of being magically trapped. What could be behind that door? Both of Fyr's "daughters" had indicated that he kept his treasures in the Corprusarium, so why did he have a locked room here? With difficulty, I reminded myself that I had vowed not to offend Divayth Fyr. Unfortunately, locked doors are like a magnet for me- I just have to know what is on the other side, even if I have no intention of taking anything. It is the challenge of it, finding out what someone wants to hide or protect. But that could keep until later- after all, the door wasn't going to go anywhere.

I retraced my steps and soon came to the door that opened into the Hall of Fyr. Within the Hall were three pleasant rooms- an alchemical laboratory, a small reading room, and a sitting room with a cheerful fire. I felt again the stab of longing for a place of my own, a place that would welcome me with familiar sights and smells, a home. Shaking off the melancholy, I looked around. This seemed to be another dead end- there was no way out except for the doorway through which I had entered. Just as I was about to start searching for sliding panels, I remembered Delte telling me to "look up." There was a vertical passage in the center of the Hall, reaching up 15 or 20 feet. As Levitation potions had been among the first that I had mastered, I had a plentiful supply. Once I had risen up the "flywell," a maze of passages opened on four sides. To the north, I saw a figure that I at first took to be a dremora. A closer look proved that it was instead a Dunmer wearing Daedric armor. This must be Divayth Fyr. Struggling to maintain my composure, I removed the Dwemer artifact from my backpack, and approached the great wizard. He was unlike any other dark elf I had ever seen, with white hair and a white beard. His face was lined with age, yet he still appeared fit and healthy. And his eyes- red as were the eyes of all the Dunmer, but even more- they were deep. Those eyes had seen over a million sunrises and still looked for something new in each day. Since coming to Morrowind, I had met people who inspired fear, respect, attraction, and even anger. But this was the first time I had ever felt awe. Divayth Fyr was a legend- the greatest wizard and scientist of the Age, and he was also real. My hands shook as I mutely extended the artifact.

Those ancient eyes went from the artifact to my face, searching and amused. In a surprisingly youthful voice, he expressed interest in the history of the item. Since I didn't have any idea about that, I simply replied that it was a courtesy gift for him. A brief smile crossed his face, and he graciously accepted the gift. Then he proved his shrewdness and asked why I had felt the need to improve his disposition. In an amused tone, he continued, "Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr? You have the divine disease? Want to plunder the dungeon? Or leer at my daughters?"

It was difficult not to like someone who was so straightforward and even more difficult not to respond in kind. Wondering what he meant by the term "divine disease," I first asked about that. He explained that he used that term for corprus because he felt certain that the disease was a curse, or possibly a blessing, from a god.

When I admitted that corprus was my reason for being there, I got a reminder that it can be difficult to understand the mind of a 4000-year-old wizard. First, Divayth noted that corprus rendered the victim immune to all other diseases- thus, it could be considered a blessing. He also noted that the Ashlander prophecies stated that the Nerevarine would be immune to disease. With a laugh, he concluded, "Maybe I have the Nerevarine down in my Corprusarium and I don't even know it. The Nerevarine, a fat, disgusting corprus monster and mad as a marsh rat. Wouldn't that be funny?"

I suppose you had to be a little older than I was to see the humor. Or maybe much older. Regardless, I stepped firmly on my temper and decided to appeal to his scientific curiosity. So, I casually mentioned that I appeared to fulfill the prophecies. Somehow, I was able to get that out without choking on it- I still wasn't sure I believed in the prophecies, but I did know that I would die if I couldn't convince Divayth Fyr to cure me.