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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With no qualms or revulsion, I rifled through Salas’ belongings and took the Black Jinx. Returning to the Telvanni Council Chambers, I presented it to Raven Omayn.

“Excellent,” she said, “We are well pleased. We will pay you five hundred Septims for the…”

“No,” I interrupted. “Magic. I want to be paid in magical spells, scrolls, weapons, or training.”

“Very well,” Omayn said, quirking an eyebrow. “We shall teach you a spell to demoralise your enemies and give you this glass jink-blade. Is that more acceptable to you?”

After learning the spell, I returned to Balmora and cast the healing spell on myself. My doubts about Great House Telvanni were a thing of the past, part of the old me. Redoran would suit me only because they produced good warriors ~ their notions of honour and fair play would only have been a hindrance. Hlaalu were soft, soft and corrupt. No, only House Telvanni could provide me with the thing I needed: magic. After all, magic requires knowledge and, as I’ve remarked before, knowledge is power. And the powerful? They tend to survive.

I awoke refreshed from my meditations, a new awareness of my strengths and weaknesses filling me. Despite the beating I’d taken, I felt strong, stronger than I had been since I stepped of that ship in Seyda Neen. In fact, it almost seemed as though I’d reached some sort of higher level, one that left me feeling enhanced in strength, fitness, and intelligence. Spells that I’d barely been able to cast without depleting my magicka now came much more easily and I’d acquired some of the body-tone I’d had before I’d been packed off to prison. With a grin, I returned to the Telvanni Council Chambers.

“We have been talking about you Sudhendra,” Mallam Ryon said as I entered the chamber. “I, and a few others, feel that you’re going to be a real asset to the house. Accordingly, it is our pleasure to promote you to the position of Oathman.” After I’d thanked him, he said “now, Sera Vahl, I have a task for you. It’s not onerous, but it does require a fair bit of travelling. There is a Telvanni living in Gnisis. My Master wishes you to ask him some questions.”

“What are the questions?” I asked.

“Gothren wishes to know what Baladas Demnevanni knows about the disappearance of the Dwemer; whether he has any knowledge of the Dwemeri language; and, finally, whatever he can tell us about Dwemeri artefacts.

“It’s very likely that Demnevanni will not answer these questions,” Mallam continued. “However, the Arch-Magister wishes these questions asked regardless of what answers we get. Now, here is some money for expenses…”

“I’ve not actually said I’m willing to do this,” I pointed out, earning myself a bewildered stare from Mouth Ryon and a silvery giggle I’m sure came from Felisa Ulessen. “But I will ask your Master’s questions.”

The clink was about enough to pay for Guild-Guide transportation to Ald’ruhn with enough left over, at a guess, to pay for transportation up to Gnisis by whatever means I could find. I had different plans. Repeating the cantrip that would take me to Ald’ruhn, I went into the Mages guild and sought out Delas Mrania. “Do you have a teleportation spell for Gnisis?” I asked. She did, and I wasted little time in purchasing it and getting out of there. As I stood in the patch of dust that passed for a main square, I thought about what I’d just encountered.

I’d passed through various Mage Guildhouses since my arrival and, while not exactly gushing with friendship; the mages had been friendly enough. Now, however, there seemed to be a distinct coolness in their interactions with me. Chalking it up to general paranoia, I shrugged and spoke the cantrip that would take me to Gnisis.

The change in scenery was astonishing. Sure, the houses were still those oval huts that the Redoran seemed to prefer, but the town had none of that cramped feel that afflicted Sadrith Mora, Balmora, or Ald’ruhn. Huge cliffs rose on two sides of the town, the soft orange rock sparkling in the sunlight. A massive Dunmeri temple dominated the town square and, off to the west was a massive domed building that seemed to erupt from the hillside. Behind me, in a deep channel, frothed and foamed a broad river. And, for the first time, I could smell growing things instead of the flinty smell that suffused the island. The only downside was the Imperial fort on the eastern side of the town and the large number of legionnaires strolling around.

However, even Orcish legionnaires have their uses and one of them directed me to the large domed building when I asked about Baladas Demnevanni. The building, according to the Orc, was called Arvs-Drelen. The door, like so many here on Vvardenfell, wasn’t locked and I stepped right inside.

The interior architecture was as different as the exterior. The room I found myself in ~ as did all the other rooms and corridors, had rounded corners and flat walls. Flat, that is, up to chest-height ~ after that they curved gently inwards towards the roof. The room was devoid of any furnishings and boasted but a single door that led, presumably, to the interior of the building. In the corridor beyond, I was faced with a choice. To my right, the floor sloped gently but perceptibly downwards, to my left, it sloped upwards. Figuring that Demnevanni would live at the top of the building, I turned left and headed that way.

The corridor curved around seamlessly inside the building, with just one corridor branching off. At the top of the gentle incline I found myself confronted by a door. A thick, heavy door. A door that fairly hummed with the power of the wards placed on it. A door that had a lock of such bewildering complexity that, even were I a skilled thief, would have flummoxed me. It was, in short, a door that said ‘unless you can figure out how to get past me, GO AWAY!’

There were two rooms on the branching corridor. One of the rooms was obviously a room for servants’ ~ it contained a couple of beds and a large cupboard. The other room was decidedly not empty: two skeletal guardians were protecting a couple of chests and some crates. The room was quite large and gave me ample room to swing an axe freely. Skeletal warriors look impressive, but fragile bone stands little chance against a heavy weapon. The crates contained some alchemical ingredients but, frustratingly, the chests were locked beyond my meagre skill. They were not locked beyond the power of the scroll I carried. Unrolling the fine velum, I studied the angular characters of the native language. Hesitantly, I spoke the syllables inscribed on the scroll, “Annon Edhellen, edro hi amen.” There was a flash of purple light and the lock on the chest I was looking shattered like ice underfoot. Seconds later there was a flare of brilliant white light and the scroll I carried vaporised and vanished like smoke. Well, there was no key in the chest, but the light from the nearby torches reflected of the heaped mound of coins with a subtle golden glow. Neither did the second chest contain a key, but I was some four hundred Septims the richer when I stepped out of that chamber.

(Now, some of you may ask, why did I not use the scrolls on the door? Simple: even the most cursory examination of the door-wards showed how lethal they were and I simply had no means of disarming them.)

The curving corridor decanted me back into the vestibule of Arvs-Drelen, leaving me with only one other direction to explore. The short passageway led to a landing, a sort of T-junction. The downward sloping corridor led into a cellar/prison. The chests in the cellar contained various household supplies and the prison cell was unlocked and empty. I had much more luck with the room at the top of the slope.

This was obviously the room of a much more important servant and, resting on a piece of parchment on a cupboard was a simple iron key. Since this was the only key I’d found, and I’d run out of places to search for another, I took it back to the lethally trapped door. It slid into the lock easily and, when I turned it there was a soft click: the wards fell and the door swung slowly open under my hand.

“Gah!” I screamed as the bulking shape of a Daedroth filled the doorway. It opened its mouth, revealing far too many razor-sharp teeth and snorted, nostrils flaring. To my utmost surprise, it simply turned away. No, it couldn’t be… Baladas Demnevanni kept a Daedroth as a pet? Still trembling, I skirted around the edge of the huge oval room to the stairs that led upwards. Crouching to keep the Dremora in sight as it paced the lower chamber, I headed upwards. Where I got the biggest shock to date.

The Mer who stood facing me was of average height and slim build. The weight of his years had turned his black hair and beard to a mass of grey hairs and pressed down on his shoulders to give him a stooped aspect. The eyes transfixed me, freezing me in my tracks. Red as a storm cloud they were, and about as friendly. That was not what had me rooted to the spot. I prided myself on being intelligent but the power of the intellect burning behind these crimson eyes dwarfed my own. In fact, only twice more would I see such intellect and power in the eyes of a being. But, more of that tale in its appointed place.

“Who intrudes on my studies?” Baladas Demnevanni (for it could be no other) asked.

“I am Sudhendra Vahl,” I managed to stammer, “Oathman of House Telvanni.”

“And why do you visit Arvs-Drelen?” he asked in a slightly warmer tone of voice. Relaxing a little, I explained to him why I was there. “Hmmm,” he said, peering at me closely. Then, in a brisk and dismissive tone of voice, he rattled off the following reply.

“There are many theories as to how and why the Dwemer vanished. Any fool with access to a library of good books can find a dozen conflicting theories within an hour. The language, Dwemeris, is unknown and unknowable. Consider this child, the Dwemer vanished over three millennia ago ~ who now would there be to teach the language to another? As for artefacts,” he concluded, “you may visit any ruin and load yourself down with as many as you can carry.”

With that, he gave the briefest of bows and turned back to the complex apparatus sprawled over the table behind him. In other words, thank you and goodbye. As I turned to leave, I saw the Type II animalcule in the corner. Even as I watched, it bloomed like the deadliest of flowers, extruding a blade as its blind head scanned the room. As it folded itself away again without attacking, I couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter. Old mister “I-know-nothing-about-the-Dwemer” Demnevanni knew a good deal more than he was telling. I thought back over our conversation ~ at first he’d been cold and threatening, but had warmed when I introduced myself as a fellow member of the House. The coldness had returned when… when… when I said I Mallam Ryon had asked me to ask him some questions!

So, I mused as I cast the spell that would take me back to the Telvanni Council Chambers, there was a history between Demnevanni and Mallam? No, it was more likely that the disagreement was with Mallam’s master ~ Arch-Magister Gothren. An interesting titbit of information, but not one that I could see any immediate use for: still, it bore remembering.

Mallam Ryon thanked me for visiting Baladas Demnevanni, and I got the distinct impression that the answers I provided (verbatim, and with more than a little relish) were exactly what he’d expected to hear. In fact, the impression that I got from the whole trip was that somebody was keeping tabs on the Wizard Demnevanni for some reason. Still, the internal politics of the House were not really my concern at this point.