The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: City of Light, City of Magic Options

[OverrideB1]

The tower was deeply subdued this morning, people moving around on tiptoe as Kallin spoke to me while I broke my fast. “The assassin came in from the southeast,” she briefed me, adding bitterly, “we found a dead guard. He’d been dragged over the hill out of sight. We also found this, outside.”

She handed me a small silver and glass phial. There were only a few dregs of the potion it had contained left in the bottom, but the thick smell rising from the flask was enough to tell us both what it had contained. “Having levitated to your balcony, he used a pick to unlock the door, greasing the hinges so they’d make no noise. How do you intend to respond, Arch-Magister?”

“By tearing a few strips off Master Neloth’s hide,” I replied. “I want to see how much of that ample paunch I can remove before he dies of blood loss or shock. Yes Raissu,” I said, turning my head to address the fidgeting estate manager, “you have something to add?”

“It may be prudent to stay your wrath until you’ve spoken with Neloth’s Mouth,” she suggested. I indicated that she should explain. “I have little knowledge of the Guild of Assassins,” she continued, “nobody does. And those that do have knowledge keep very, very quiet. However, if Neloth had targeted you for assassination, wouldn’t they have had to issue a Black Writ?”

“Which we would have known about,” an exasperated Kallin said, dropping her head so her forehead banged on the table. “Raissu is right, Arch-Magister. The Morag Tong may be a bunch of murderous cut-throats, but they do stick to their rules.”

Kallin then explained to me what she knew of the workings of the Dunmeri assassins. How a Black Writ has to be issued for the ‘execution’ of a target and how the target is made aware of the existence of the Writ. It seemed an odd system to me but it had been that way, apparently, for hundreds of years.

“Everyone out,” I commanded as I stalked into the Telvanni Council Hall in Sadrith Mora. “Not you Arara Uvulas,” I added as the Mouths started to leave. When she and I were the only ones left in the chamber, I spoke, “Last night there was an attempt on my life. Neloth has declared that he considers himself to be my enemy. Give me a good reason I shouldn’t end his life right now.”

Arara looked stricken, glancing about as though in search of aid. Finally, she swallowed and said, “My Master has not been in contact with me for days. In fact Sed, he hasn’t been out of Tel Naga since you became Arch-Magister. He… regrets certain comments he made to you and wishes he had not been so… hasty. I believe he fears that he may have made… an error of judgement.”

I snorted back laughter. Ignoring it, Arara continued, “As for arranging an assassination attempt? It is not something Neloth would do, for fear of precisely this situation.”

“In other words,” I said, “he’s a bully and a coward. Afraid that he’s made a mortal enemy of the Head of House.”

Arara hesitated, then gave a quick nod of the head ~ about as much confirmation that my words were true as I was likely to get from her. “Then if not Neloth,” I mused out loud, “who sent that assassin to my stronghold? Unlikely to be House Redoran, if they wanted me dead they’d do it themselves. House Hlaalu? They could certainly afford to equip an assassin in the armour…”

“Armour, Arch-Magister?” Arara interrupted my thoughts. “What sort of armour?”

“Black,” I replied. “Light-weight, high-quality black armour.”

“Then it was not the Morag Tong,” she said flatly. “Their assassins eschew armour, preferring simple robes. And if it was not the Morag Tong that tried to kill you, then it was not one of the Dunmeri factions that arranged it. Let me call one of the House Guards, they may be able to shed some light on the matter.”

The nervous looking guard listened to my tale and spoke quickly when I’d finished. “Sounds like the Dark Brotherhood, Sed Vahl. If you have been targeted for assassination by them…” he let his comment trail off. I wondered where I could find this Brotherhood. “I don’t know,” he replied in response to my question, “but there is a new arrival in Ebonheart who may be able to assist you. An Imperial by the name of Apelles Matius.”

Delas Mrania was only too happy to sell me a spell to get me to Ebonheart when I spoke to her and, after learning it; I took myself from Ald’ruhn to the Imperial blandness of Ebonheart’s Fort.

“You’ll forgive me if I am sceptical Dark Elf,” Apelles Matius said, giving me a condescending smile when I’d told him my tale. “If you were truly marked for death by the Dark Brotherhood, we would not be having this conversation.”

“I am not accustomed to being called a liar Matius,” I snapped. “You’d do well to remember your manners. Now, speak to me of the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Well,” he said, quite taken aback. “If you’re telling the truth… which I have no doubt you are,” he added hastily as I smiled blandly at him and dropped my hand to the hilt of my sword, “then you need to travel to Mournhold. That is the only bastion of the Dark Brotherhood in this Province that I am aware of.

“The problem is, Vvardenfell is under quarantine because of the Blight. However, if you speak to Asciene Rane in the Council Hall, I’m sure she would be able to transport you there.”

[OverrideB1]

I had actually made it back to my pack, unnoticed by the raving Wood Elf, and unhooked both of the small crossbows before the words of Asciene Rane came back to me ~ “…Almalexia doesn’t allow levitation inside the citadel’s limits…” That meant I’d have to load them down on the ground, and that increased the chances that the Wood Elf would…

“I SEE YOU!” Gaenor roared with delight, setting off at a run from his spot by the Temple ~ heading straight for me. Damn’, so intent had I been on reaching my pack and… Wait, the cloaking spell was still in place, making me blend perfectly into the background. And, since I was in contact with both the crossbows and my pack, the effect extended to them as well. Calling down a curse on the usual Vahl luck and adding a few choice comments about dammed lucky Bosmeri too, I dropped the bows and ran.

I was running out of options. I’d managed to elude Gaenor by stepping into the shadow of the Temple and running along its wall until I was out of his line of sight. Given his cursed luck enhancement, it was only a matter of time before he acquired me as a target again. Every offensive spell I knew was useless ~ any I fired off at him would just be reflected back. Likewise, a weapon is of no use if you can’t hit your opponent with it.

I did, however, have a plan ~ not a good one admittedly, but a plan nonetheless. Flexing my fingers, I crept up behind the High Ordinator and concentrated on the glove that Aryon had given me. The guard stiffened and I felt my mind settle over his, establishing control. It was hard, very hard ~ right at the limits of what I was capable of. As Gaenor raced around the edge of the Temple ~ gleefully announcing that he could see me ~ I turned the High Ordinator to face him.

Gaenor wasn’t expecting the heavy ebony scimitar that crashed against the breastplate of his armour, the blow knocking him off balance. Instinctively, he lashed out with his own sword and caught the High Ordinator a stinging blow. The shock of it was enough to dislodge me from my precarious grip on the Mer’s mind but that didn’t matter at this point.

“You dare attack me!” the High Ordinator screamed in fury. Glowing filaments of fire appeared between the guard’s fingers and he grabbed Gaenor, allowing the spell to discharge. Both screamed in agony, Gaenor catching at least some of the spell while the majority of it washed back to its source. Disengaging, the guard fell on Gaenor in a frenzy, pounding down blow after blow on the Wood Elf. Of course, most of them missed completely but, such was the Ordinator’s rage, those that got through were enough to stagger the Bosmer.

Nor was I being particularly idle: I was busy renewing the Shadow-Weave spell from the ring in preparation for the second phase of my cunning plan. As the High Ordinator and Gaenor traded hammer-blows, I had the Adamantium dagger in hand and was sneaking up behind the Wood Elf. The outcome of the fight was pretty much as I expected it would be ~ with the enhanced luck he was having each of Gaenor’s blows landed perfectly while the poor guard struggled to make a blow in ten connect. “Ah-ha!” the Bosmer shouted triumphantly, “I am invincible!”

This proud boast was followed by a sound that can best be written as ‘Urk!” This was simply because I’d driven the blade into the back of his neck ~ right at the junction of his armour and his helm. “Dodge that,” I suggested to the writhing Wood Elf. When he’d stopped threshing, I helped myself to the now battered ebony armour, his sword, and the plain copper amulet from around his neck. Hey, a girl needs all the luck she can get. The armour weighed a ton, but I managed to stagger back to Velas Manor and dump it just inside the door. I could deal with it later.

“This is something you should read,” I suggested to Tienius Delitian, handing him a copy of ‘The Common Tongue’. He took it from me and started to read down the broadsheet ~ his face first turning an interesting shade of red, then going quite pale. With a hiss, he thrust the paper back at me.

“Most interesting,” he finally managed to grind out. “I’m sure His Majesty will be most interested in this ‘Common Tongue’. I shall not hesitate to mention your loyal service to His Majesty in this matter. There is another matter His Majesty wishes you to investigate…

“As you may have noticed, there is a little friction between State and Church.” He returned my wry smile. “Fortunately, His Majesty has heard that there is discontentment within the Temple. He would like you to find one of these malcontents and endeavour to find out what the Temple’s feelings are towards King Helseth ~ whether they will support him or if they are planning to act against him. Needless to say, you are expected to be the very soul of discretion when pursuing this matter.”

I planned to be discrete all right, so discrete that I didn’t plan on asking the question at all. Delitian wasn’t jesting when he’d intimated that there was a power-struggle going on in Mournhold. It was fairly obvious that Church and State were manoeuvring for power. And I wasn’t so certain that I wished to get involved. Helseth was involved in the Goblin Horde beneath Mournhold; he was almost certainly the person who had a Dark Brotherhood Writ issued against me; and there was no doubt in my mind that he was a mass poisoner. Which, I reflected, would make me extremely careful about anything I ate while I was here.

The Temple, on the other hand, had treated me with a degree of fairness, although I was frequently made to feel like a provincial bumpkin by the way they spoke to me. I had, however, been extremely well rewarded for dealing with Helseth’s Goblins. While defying a king may be foolish, defying a living God? That’s tantamount to committing suicide. I had nothing that could keep me here, really, and a sudden departure to Vvardenfell might be in order.

While I had been musing, I had wandered into the Great Bazaar, where a young Redguard accosted me. “You look like a traveller ma’am,” he said earnestly. “I’m sure that you often have more things to carry that you can cope with. I have here the marvels of the Third Era: trained Rats and Scribs.

“Any of them will carry a load for you. They are trained to take care of their packs and follow you wherever you go. In addition, they make an excellent meal…” I looked at the rat with the pack on its back. By my estimation it could probably carry a couple of rings and a coin or two. With a grin, I declined the fellow’s offer and continued to wander through the Bazaar towards Godsreach.

After packing up various items I thought I would need back on Vvardenfell, I made my way back to the reception area of the Royal palace and had Effie-Tai send me back to Ebonheart. From there I returned to Tel Vahl.

[size=18]Here Ends the Fifth Part of Sudhendra's Tale