Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 6 Options

[treydog]

Although I was summoned to see Queen Barenziah, I did not immediately go to her chambers. Instead, I made some preparations. The request for my presence was not formal, after all, and did not specify a day or time. Therefore, after securing my old room at the Winged Guar, I availed myself of a bath and also carefully cleaned my clothing and gear. Those who have followed my story this far may be surprised that I took such care over a meeting with a member of the nobility, a class which I despised. And there may have been some hypocrisy in my actions, considering my generally low opinion of so-called royalty. But it is in that phrase that the reason for my attitude toward Barenziah may be found. In my experience, most nobles were anything but noble. They were greedy, stupid, arrogant, and self-absorbed- and those were their good points. But Barenziah had been a queen in truth, not just as a title. She had been instrumental in exposing and thwarting the plot of Jagar Tharn, who had impersonated Emperor Uriel Septim VII. More than that, she had always been concerned for the welfare of the common people and had done much to ease their suffering. There were additional rumors about her adventurous youth, but confirmation was hard to come by. No one, however, questioned the fact that she was highly skilled in the art of magic and more than able to navigate the dangerous world of court intrigue with grace and wit. She had lived for over 500 years, many of them during a time that all the royal families of Tamriel were at grave risk. All of that being true, I would grant her the respect that her years and her actions had earned.

I also engaged in an additional bit of preparation- a search for knowledge. My reasoning was simple: if I was to meet this great lady, I would need all the information I could find. Therefore, once I had seen to my appearance, I made my way to the bookseller in the Great Bazaar. Sanaso Sarothran happily sold me the full set of the Biography of Barenziah, which was the version of the queen’s story authorized by the Tribunal Temple. When I inquired after The Real Barenziah, she told me that no copies of that work were available in Mournhold and that it was more than her life was worth to even own those books, let alone sell them. The Temple was quite serious about suppressing that particular work, and it was one of the few things about which they and King Helseth were in agreement. While the authorized biography made for interesting reading, it had clearly been heavily edited and probably bore only a passing resemblance to reality. Perhaps if I had sought more diligently for the volumes of The Real Barenziah, things would have turned out differently. But then again, perhaps not. There are some events that must happen, and all the preparation and knowledge in the world cannot change them. As I was about to discover, Barenziah was much more than a character in a story, or a queen, or a noble. She was a force of nature. And now, it was time to meet her. I returned to the Palace and approached the door to the queen’s chambers. Upon my knock, a pleasant voice bade me enter.

When I said that Barenziah was a “force of nature,” I suppose that, for many, the phrase conjures the image of a great storm or an avalanche. But there is another force, a force that works quietly to impose major changes on the world. Think of the slow, constant effect of water on stone. Consider how the water shapes the stone over time. Such was the effect of the former queen of Mournhold. Like all elves, she was long-lived. And she was therefore able to wait patiently, to work her will slowly, achieving results after decades of subtle effort. But I only realized that long after our first meeting. At the time, I was too caught up in her sheer presence to recognize her depth. In appearance, she was typical of the Dunmeri race, with gray skin and red eyes. Her features were pleasant, and the few lines of her face appeared to be those of someone who smiled and laughed often. As befit her station, she was richly dressed and her white hair was elaborately dressed and curled. I thought it interesting that she made no attempt to disguise her great age, but rather displayed its signs prominently. Perhaps only we short-lived humans turn our vanity toward seeking the appearance of perpetual youth, while the eternal elves understand that age and wisdom are more deserving of veneration. And there was wisdom in her eyes, of that there can be no doubt. Again and again, in my memories of Barenziah, I come back to her eyes. She was reputed to be skillful in magic; perhaps she cast a spell upon me in that first moment of meeting. If so, it was of a sort that I have never encountered in all the long years since that day, for, if spell it was, it influences me still. Along with wisdom, her eyes seemed to hold a sense of fun, as if there was still an elven child lurking within and peering out at the clumsy Breton and dancing with laughter. But the laughter was not directed at me, at least not in any mean-spirited way. Instead, it was an invitation to share in the great adventure that was life. Maybe none of those impressions were real; maybe she did ensorcel me. And maybe she made me think of my own magical mother, a woman who I never knew, and yet carried with me always.

I must have spent enough time staring for it to seem rude, for Barenziah’s attendant, a no-nonsense Redguard, finally said,

“Is that how you were taught to greet the Queen? I vow that I could teach you some manners and it is a lesson you’d not forget.”

The queen waved a calming hand and said,

“Peace, Alusannah. He is merely a young man who is not used to court ways and court manners. As well to berate a fish for being uncomfortable upon the land or a bird for disliking the burrow of a badger. We are each of us fit for our own element and more at home therein. So, peace.”

The gracious speech, delivered in an amused tone, brought me back to myself and I bowed low, muttering,

“I beg your pardon, great lady. How may I be of service?”

Overwhelmed by her presence though I was, I would kneel before no one, not even the Emperor himself. In that, at least, I was still my own man. Still smiling, Barenziah gestured me to a chair, where I perched uncomfortably. After studying me closely for a time, she again spoke.

“Greetings, Trey. I’ve wanted to speak with you. I understand that you’ve performed some tasks for Tienius and you’ve done well. I believe that there are other matters you should investigate.”

I should have known by then that even a careful question could be dangerous, but my curiosity over what the queen might want with me overcame my natural caution, so I asked,

”What ‘other matters’ do you think need investigation?”

“Mournhold is a town of two minds. On the one hand, there is the monarchy, led by Helseth, and on the other there is the Temple, and the goddess Almalexia. It is hard to know whom you may trust. While there has been no open hostility between the two, there are always undercurrents that bear watching. I would like you to make yourself known to the Temple. See what you can learn. Speak to Fedris Hler. He is a powerful man in the Temple, a confidant of Almalexia. See if you can get to know him a bit.”

Because the queen had been polite, I responded in kind, rather than stating my feelings about Fedris Hler more bluntly.

“My lady, I have met Fedris Hler and I do not believe he likes me very much.”

That news did not seem to concern Barenziah particularly, as she responded,

“There is more to Hler than one would think. He hides a brilliant mind behind that gruff exterior. It is fairly widely known that he is the leader of the Hands of Almalexia. He will not respond to a charming pair of blue eyes,” she paused to smile at me again, “but he is impressed by plain-speaking. It would be a great service to me if you could discover what concerns occupy Fedris Hler and the goddess.”

I had hoped to avoid further contact with the Temple, but that plan seemed destined to fail. It was clear that the path to Helseth was guarded by his mother. Her words in his ear would determine whether he ever spoke to me or not. Those thoughts reminded me of something else she had mentioned, and I inquired:

“Earlier, you spoke of the difficulty of knowing who to trust. I would value your views on that matter.”

Her expression grew more serious as she pondered my question. At last, she spoke slowly,

“A difficult question, especially in the company of gods and kings. I am always here to answer your questions. My time in the political arena is done, and I will not miss it. I do, however, like to know what is happening to my son, and to his monarchy. I stay interested. You should also take the time to speak with Plitinius Mero, a dear friend of mine. He is knowledgeable on a great many subjects, and is always interesting to speak with. Apart we two, it is up to you to decide who your friends are.”

I recognized that last as a dismissal, couched in polite terms though it was. Barenziah had given me much to think on. Of great interest to me was the fact that she had plainly stated that she was someone who I could trust. Most of the time, such a vow is a warning that you should check your pockets. But, in this case, I had the feeling that she was speaking the simple truth.

[treydog]

One of the few useful traits that I developed early was my tendency to question authority. The only problem with that tendency was that, at the time I was in Mournhold, it was not fully evolved. That is to say, I was perfectly able to question why it was that some king or queen or Temple officer should have power over me. An accident of birth seemed to me a rather shaky basis for running a society. What I did not question sufficiently were the intentions of those in power. I disliked them; I distrusted them; but, ultimately, I did not understand them. So it was with the ring of Barilzar. Almalexia wanted this artifact very badly- for what reason, no one had said. Barenziah, far wiser than I, had asked that fundamental question, but I was too busy feeling ill-used to understand how important it was. Torasa Aram, the head of the Museum of Artifacts, provided another clue, which I again missed. When I asked the Dunmeri woman for information on the ring, she did not react with the revulsion that others had, but instead looked intrigued. Assuming the manner of one lecturing a class, she stated,

“The Mazed Band may actually be no more than a legend, though there is no doubt of Barilzar's existence, or his power. It has been said that the Mazed Band was able to open rifts in time and space...that it could even open the gates of Oblivion. It's been said that it would take one of divine birth to wield the ring. Some speculate that that was how Barilzar himself met his end. Of course, this is all conjecture. No one really knows what happened to the man or the Band. All of that was lost centuries ago.”

Although I had not asked all of the questions I should have, I had noticed one glaring omission in the discussion of this “Mazed Band” - to wit, who (or what) currently possessed the blasted thing. Rumors of a powerful magical artifact act like a lodestone on adventurers, thieves, and …others. It was those others I worried about- because they were not necessarily anything one might call remotely human. If Barilzar’s ring had truly been able to open the sort of “rift” Torasa Aram described, there was no guarantee as to what might have been waiting on the other side. Worse still, there was no guarantee that this hypothetical creature had gone back from whence it came. And if the ring was the focus of some sort of gate, any dislocated beings would likely stay close by. Someone- or something- would try very hard to unlock the secret of using the ring. And that entity would not appreciate my efforts to take it away.

When I reached the too-familiar passages beneath the Temple, it was almost if I had never left. It was still damp, gloomy, and fetid- and the ghosts and skeletons still tried to kill me. Morrowind, with its bandits, carnivorous wildlife, and ash storms was starting to look better all the time. I found the area Fedris Hler had described without much difficulty- the signs of recent efforts at earth-moving and shoring were obvious. It was somewhat surprising to note that some fearful or superstitious sort had marked a sign for “avert evil” on the doorway that had been uncovered. I would have thought that workers for the Temple would have more faith in their goddess. Before I describe what I found on the other side of that door, let me take a moment to talk about rhetoric. Those who were classically trained in the uses and meanings of words had a distinct advantage over those who were not. Fedris Hler had told me specifically that Almalexia had “…had the area cleared” when discussing the Abandoned Crypt. Although I did not know it, his words had a very specific meaning, quite different from what I assumed. Thus it was that I was quite surprised when the first lich appeared and began hurling spells at me. As I dodged and cursed and tried to remember how to conjure a magical bow, I thought back over Fedris Hler’s actual words. He had told me that the passage to the Abandoned Crypt had been cleared- and he had been referring to the debris from the cave-in. In other words, no one had even entered the crypt itself, let alone “cleared” it. That privilege was all mine. I made a mental note to thank the Temple Steward for the honor- assuming I survived it.

Having to deal with a few giant rats was almost a relief- even though they were likely to carry diseases, at least they did not cast spells. The liches that kept appearing around every bend did. My fear and anger were at such a high pitch that I did not even notice that I seemed to be dispatching the liches with relative ease- I had become a far more formidable fighter than I realized. And that fact was about to become vitally important. As I passed between a pair of columns carved in the style of the ancient, lost city that had been buried, I began to see the first evidence that this area had indeed been a crypt (besides the undead wizards, that is). Massive sarcophagi were still largely buried by rubble, but the carvings were again distinct. The Aldmeris was so ornate and ancient that I could not read it- and that probably was just as well. Beyond the burial chamber, the passage ended. As soon as I came into sight, a skeletal figure stepped forward and spoke in a suitably ominous voice.

“You have no place here, child of living flesh. The Mazed Band must not be allowed to leave this tomb. The Band should never have existed at all. That was my folly, and this is my curse. For all eternity, I am doomed to walk in this half life, to keep my creation from destroying the hearts and minds of mortals. Those who would challenge my fate must pay with their lives.”

I could forgive Hler for failing to mention the rats- it was a tomb, after all. And I was even willing to admit that being surprised by the presence of the half-dozen liches was mostly my own fault. However, I really thought it was a bit much that no one had bothered to tell me that Barilzar himself was still- well, not exactly alive- but at least animate.