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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Feeling somewhat less morose than I had yestere, I cast a Recall spell to Master Aryon’s chambers, where I found him in an expansive mood.

“You’ve done exceedingly well Muthsera Vahl,” he said. “Faves Andas was most pleased most pleased indeed. Although you’ve only been my Mouth a short while, I’m afraid I’m going to have to find someone to replace you.”

He realised what I thought he meant as I stood there spluttering, trying to form a coherent response. “No, no. You misunderstand. I need to find a new Mouth because I am promoting you. Henceforth, you are Spellwright of Great House Telvanni, with all the responsibilities and duties thereof. In addition, Faves Andas has sent this rather fine Staff of War to mark his appreciation for your sterling efforts in rescuing him.

“As a Master, and your patron, I can still give you some orders ~ you, of course, are free to disregard them and follow your own path. I can also give you advice and suggestions on how to proceed. This is important since, as you are now of quite high rank, some of those beneath you will consider you… fair game. If you understand what I mean?”

Oh, I understood all right. It’s a fact that’s known by inference, rather than direct discussion, that lower-ranking Telvanni can move up the promotion ladder by arranging a suitable ‘accident’ for those of middle-rank. And the definition of ‘accident’ is fairly lax ~ failing to wake up one morning because there’s a dagger sticking out of your back was, by Telvanni code, an ‘unfortunate accident’.

“There is also a matter we must discuss,” he added. “It needs saying, although it shouldn’t, that what we’re about to discuss is not to be discussed with those of lesser rank than Spellwright and must not be discussed with anyone outside the House. Ever.”

For the next hour, Master Aryon led me through the complex procedures that ensure continued life for Telvanni, explaining how he had lived for seven hundred years beyond the normal span of a Dunmeri lifetime. All I will say on the matter is that, despite my fears, the process did not involve that Blackest Art. No, I’m sorry, that’s all I will say on the matter, other than to say that the Imperial claims that we use necromancy to prolong our life are calumny of the first order.

When we’d finished, he gave me the bad news. “I have no further tasks for you at the moment Muthsera Vahl. My recommendation is that you train those skills you have and make yourself less of a target. If, when you’ve got bored with that, I still have no tasks for you, I will give some thought to how you might improve your standing within the House.”

I was at something of a loss as I walked out of Master Aryon’s chambers. Despite my continued assertions that ‘I was the captain of my own destiny’, this was the first time since I’d landed on this island that I really had nothing to do. ‘Take this there’, ‘Get me this’, and “I have a little job for you’ had become such a part of my life in the last month that I hadn’t noticed how reliant on others for direction I’d become. Until now, that is.

So, it was with a sense of relief that, upon seeing Turedus Talanian, I remembered his little fact-finding mission to the Zainab. It was early enough in the day that the relatively short journey wouldn’t be too onerous and I’d relish the chance to meet more of these Ashlanders. The fact that it would be a pleasant walk through the Grazelands didn’t hurt either.

As it turned out, I didn’t get very far along the road south before whatever twisted power that plays dice with my fate intervened yet again. I was walking along between two high grassy banks in a vaguely southerly direction when I saw the words “HELP ME” chalked onto a rock. Next to them was an arrow, pointing towards a faint plume of smoke. As I got nearer, I could see a robed Man kneeling beside some sort of pack animal.

“Isin yabancis,” the Redguard said, straightening up and turning as I approached, “may I prevail upon you for some assistance? My pack-Guar has some disease and I am without a cure. A thousand pardons for thus intruding Muthsera, but any assistance would be greatly appreciated.”

I crouched beside the Guar and looked at it. I’d seen wild ones before, at a distance, but I hadn’t been aware that they could be domesticated in this manner. What a wonderful idea on an island where horses were more a delicacy than a mode of transport. The creature was an odd colour, a sort of greyish tinge to the normally pink scales and it’s breathing sounded terribly laboured.

“I don’t think I can help,” I said as I stood. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with it. I have a spell, and some potions to cure Blight but I’d hate to give your Guar the wrong thing.” He looked crestfallen, and that’s when I had an idea. “But, I’ll tell you what. I can get to Tel Vos and back here very, very quickly. I’ll go and speak with Andil, the Apothecary. If I describe the symptoms, he might be able to sell me a cure.”

“Teneo is locus” I said, placing a Mark where I stood. Having done that, I translocated back to Tel Vos and went into the Service tower to speak to the apothecary.

“Droops,” Andil said authoritatively when I’d finished describing the symptoms. “A standard cure disease potion will fix Hodrim’s Guar. Do you need a potion, or do you have enough to spare one?” Assuring the merchant that I had enough potions, I cast Recall and returned to the Redguard’s camp.

“Thank you, thank you,” Hodrim said, clasping my hand and bowing over it when I’d cured his beast. “I am but a poor trader, and have no suitable reward for you. However, I am going to meet the Zainab and, when I return to Tel Vos, I will have many items. Of these, you may take whatever you fancy.”

We walked a little way together, speaking of nothing in particular. Hodrim, it turned out, does a brisk trade between the Ahemmusa camp in the north, Tel Vos, and the Zainab camp in the south and is, quite possibly, the only merchant trading in Ashlander goods on the whole island. We’d not gone far, however, when the slow pace ~ enforced by his slowly recovering beast of burden ~ began to chaff. Bidding him farewell, I set off at a much brisker pace, soon leaving the trader behind. And so it was that I crested the hills and saw below me the Zainab camp.

Like the Ahemmusa camp, it was a rough circle of yurts around a large central fire pit. However, it had more of an air of permanence about it than the more northerly camp. One thing didn’t change though: the icy distain that Ashlanders show for outsiders. I was as polite and careful as I could be, greeting each of the nomadic warriors that had gathered around me politely. Pretty soon, however, they lost interest and started to drift away.

“Excuse my impertinence at asking you a question Muthsera,” I said to one burly Ashlander. “I’m here on behalf of the Mage-Lord in Vos.” The Ashlander stopped and turned to face me. A slight inclination of the head seemed to be all the signal I was going to get, so I carried on. “He wishes to know what goods might be acceptable in trade.”

“Hmpf,” the Ashlander said coldly. “Look about you Outlander. What need have we of the great buildings or soft furnishings of the settled people? Such foods as the Tribe needs can be gathered from nearby by the most inexperienced warrior, and we have no interest in the bangles, beads and baubles most attempt to trade with us.”

With that, he turned and strode away. Because I was still wary of these proud people, I’d been paying attention to the goings on around me and had spotted a gorgeously dressed young woman shaking her head as the warrior spoke. “Excuse me,” I said softly as I gingerly approached her, “but is there something that we could trade with you?”

She thought for a moment, and then said, “The settled peoples have a way of bottling magic ~ this I have seen. Often, when our husb… warriors are out gathering food they become diseased. Sometimes they are too far away to get back and seek healing from the Wise Woman in time. We have little to trade Outlander but, if trade you would, those bottled magics would be most welcome.”

I felt a wave of sympathy for the woman as she walked away; obviously it had been her husband that had died because of some disease that a potion could have cured. Simultaneously I felt a sense of elation: simple cure disease and even cure Blight potions could be produced with ease ~ although, looking around the camp, I could see little that would be worth trading for. I resolved to ask Turedus what the Ashlanders could possibly have that Master Aryon wanted to trade for.

My second meeting with Ashlanders had gone well and the day was still quite young, although I felt a pressing need for the midday meal. Guessing that giving food, or trading food, to strangers was a distinct improbability, and that sitting down to eat in the middle of the camp would be somewhat rude (and probably invite some fairly unpleasant reminder of that), I moved away from the camp to a small hill to the east. There, under the shade of a broad tree, I ate a simple meal and savoured the fresh breeze coming across the gently rippling grass.

I made certain to keep my eyes east or north as I ate, the marked contrast to the west would have spoiled my appetite somewhat. Not far west from where I sat, the grass started to grow in clumps and the trees looked unhealthy. There was a sharp dip just beyond this barren patch ~ presumably down to one of the many paths that criss-cross the Grazelands. When the ground rose again, it was devoid of grass or plant life, bare and sere as it covered the short distance to where the mountains rose from the plains.

I have no idea, even to this day, what prompted me to head west towards the mountains instead of north towards Tel Vos. As I approached a gully that led into the highlands, I saw another of those mining claims ~ this one being worked by an Argonian. Since I had no idea (at the time) that such places were freely available for anyone to mine ore, I gave the industrious lizard a wide berth. I hadn’t gone too much further when I came to someplace called ‘The Ridak Mine’.

On a whim, I stepped inside and started to explore.