Chapter Seven – Interlude Three; What Karethys Didn’t See
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Wayrest, High Rock, Last Seed, 3E 397. It is 32 years before the present day. Morgiah is 21.
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As Karethys’ shadowy figure stole quietly ahead, so Morgiah’s shadowy figure stole quietly behind. The main streets of Wayrest were brightly-lit with shielded oil-lamps, but they were out of the town centre now.
The tutor was hurrying and her pupil could barely keep up, but Morgiah did not call out. Because Karethys did not know she was there, and Morgiah was following her.
Since discovering the allegiance the cloak-clasp symbolised, Morgiah had watched her tutor like a hawk. She had noticed that on several evenings Karethys would leave the castle and not return for hours, sometimes days, at a time. On this occasion, Morgiah had slipped out behind her.
It wasn’t just simple curiosity, she knew. Since reading the name of the King of Worms a month ago, some strange fire had been lit in her. Who was he? What was he? And what was it that made thousands the world over call him their leader?
She ducked behind a smooth red-brick wall as Karethys turned her head, scouting before beginning to cross a wide courtyard in front of them.
A lot of things had happened that month. There was uproar in the Imperial city as the emperor had been discovered to be the impostor Jagar Tharn, revealed and defeated by a High Elf hero known as Julaen. Morgiah was interested in this for a particular reason; she was sure that there was a connection between this mer and the rumours that the Ogmha Infinium had been found. And the Ogmha Infinium was something Morgiah had been thinking about for a while now.
She hurried to keep up as Karethys turned a dark corner.
The trouble was, any lore to be found on the subject was profoundly unhelpful. The palace library at Wayrest was impressive, but any references she had come across were frustratingly alike. A brief paragraph stating the name, which daedra the artefact was given by, and the fact that the Infinium had been written by the mysterious ‘Ageless One’, Xarses. Of Xarses himself, Morgiah could find not a crumb of information.
She was beginning to feel the limits of Wayrest more strongly than ever before. It was true the town was very wealthy, sitting as it did on the most convenient taxable trade-routes of the Bjoulsae River. But it still had not grown to the size of, say, Sentinel or Daggerfall – the other two major powers of the Iliac Bay, the sea-inlet between High Rock and Hammerfell. It was not as old, either. Perhaps those cities would have the information she craved…
Suddenly Karethys turned, stopping abruptly. Morgiah, already in the shadow, froze immediately, her heart in her mouth. It was not so much the fear of getting caught, rather that she would not get to the bottom of Karethys’ mystery, that made her fists clench and her mouth set…
But Karethys visibly relaxed at the sight of a rough-looking stray cat turning out of an adjacent alley, and continued. After a moment or so, more cautiously, Morgiah followed.
Though she hadn’t meant to, she had found herself expressing her frustrations to her mother that day at supper. To her surprise, Barenziah seemed almost verbose on the subject.
“This library has been adequate for your studies so far,” she had said with a thoughtful look, “but you seem to be exceeding most expectations in that respect. If you want a decent library, most people would immediately say the Imperial City in Cyrodiil… the Elder Scrolls are kept there, of course… but for your sort of interests, I would look to the Altmer. Their lore goes back a long way. Alinor, perhaps… or Firsthold…”
She knew the Ogmha Infinium was a ridiculous fantasy, but she told herself she would look into the matterof Altmer libraries, if only to humour her own whims.
Karethys was slowing down now; out of the darkness ahead, a large, comfortable-looking two-storey house was visible. It looked plain but affluent, with a veranda on one side. Karethys stole up to the door and knocked.
Voices came then, but too faint for Morgiah to hear. Someone spoke from the other side of the door; Karethys replied softly, and was admitted.
Morgiah hung back, uncertain. What now?
She crept to the side of the house. It was wood-panelled, but expensively finished, like most of the houses in Wayrest. All the curtains were shut.
She dug her fingers into her palms in annoyance. Surely this wasn’t it? There must be some way for her to find out what was going on inside…
As she scanned the building, she saw a faint glow from between the curtains in a first-floor window, just off the veranda. All the other windows were dark. Perhaps… She examined the cast iron railing round the edge of the building and found it was climbable.
After a few near disasters due to the fact that royal dresses are not designed for climbing, Morgiah had arrived on the veranda intact and was pressed to the wall, peeking through the gap in the curtains.
The glow which had seemed relatively bright from the ground was, in fact, a dim illumination from several candles. Seven figures stood in the centre of a large empty room, arranged in a circle round a pedestal, on which was a tightly-bound scroll.
Her heart began to beat quickly with excitement. She recognised Karethys, but only just. The robe she was wearing covered her face and was identical to those the other six figures wore, making them almost indistinguishable. Then, as she watched, the scroll began to glow.
Karethys stepped forward, touched it, and vanished.
Morgiah’s eyes were aglitter.
One by one, in intervals of a minute or so, each of the remaining people in the room followed suit. Soon it was empty, and although the light of the candles played on the pedestal, the scroll remained unilluminated.
Morgiah waited, holding her breath. Would they reappear…?
After five minutes, she became impatient.
After ten, she sat on a convenient plant-pot that afforded a reasonable view.
After twenty, she occupied herself with pulling the stray threads out of the hem of her dress and weaving them into a bracelet.
After three-quarters of an hour, she put the bracelet down and began to think about her next move.
She looked at the position of the moon. Almost the first hour of the morning. For all she knew, Karethys and her companions wouldn’t be back until light, and she couldn’t stay on the veranda until then – for one thing, she would be seen and have to answer some awkward questions. She must be back inside the palace by five ‘o clock at the latest – the maids would be getting up by then.
So, the question was, should she wait on the off-chance the people would return, or should she leave?
She tried to recall her memories of past incidents like this involving Karethys. She lived in the palace for the most part, but when Morgiah had no lessons scheduled, she might often disappear. Of course, that was perfectly normal. But it was it a clue to what was happening wherever the scroll had transported her?
Morgiah couldn’t think of a single instance where Karethys had just been out for the evening, and returned before the next morning. It was always at least a day.
So she decided, partly by logic, partly by guesswork and partly by the fact that the plant-pot had become very uncomfortable, that she would return to the palace and keep a very sharp eye-out for exactly when Karethys put in her next appearance.
That taken care of, she climbed (more carefully this time) back down the iron railing, and made her way quietly back to the palace, feeling exhilarated but annoyingly unsatisfied.
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Palace South Wing, Mournhold, Morrowind, 9th First Seed 4E 429, Present Day.
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Morgiah looked up from her desk as the study door swung open, revealing Barenziah.
“What is it?” Morgiah asked, seeing the expression in her mother’s face.
“Helseth left Mournhold twenty minutes ago,” said Barenziah, “and is, so I’m told, heading to Vvardenfell in a very inconspicuous manner.”
Morgiah put her quill down, thoughts beginning to form.
“Though you might want to know,” Barenziah said mildly, bowing out and shutting the door with a quiet click.
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Facility Cavern, Red Mountain, Morrowind, 9th First Seed 4E 429, Present Day.
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“An intriguing hobby,” Helseth remarked. “Master Fyr was certainly… unique. Although I am not sure he would approve of the use his ‘patients’ will serve.”
“I would believe not, your majesty,” said a black-robed figure by his side.
The vault of the ruined Facility Cavern stretched above them. Abandoned Dreamers had flanked Helseth six-deep through the pathways to the centre of the volcano, but there had been no need. Nenya had done her job well; it had taken the better part of two years, but not a single blight-creature remained on Red Mountain.
“I am hugely impressed,” Helseth continued. “When I conceived of the idea I didn’t think it could be put in motion so quickly, or that the Corprusarium patients would be so… effective.”
Above them stretched the massive bulk of Akulakhan, the ancient Dwemer golem. No longer a ruin; now it was a construction site. A hundred Corprus-victims, transported from the cellars of Tel Fyr, swarmed over its tarnished surface like working ants.
“They work at a tremendous rate, your majesty,” commented the Abandoned Dreamer. “I believe it gives them a focus rather than the agonies of their infliction. Of course,” he went on conscientiously, “their work is set to meticulous instructions given by Bagarn. Who could supervise the reconstruction of a Dwemer golem better than an actual Dwemer? Tel Fyr really has been a gold-mine to us.”
“It is a shame Ser Divath himself could not participate. Although I must say I find myself confused – surely Bagarn is in no condition to be, ah, issuing instructions?”
“He has invented a rather ingenious method of hand-signalling, your majesty.”
“I see. Best to keep an eye on that – you impaired his speech for a reason, I beg you to remember.”
“Of course, your majesty.”
Helseth cast a critical eye over the golem. The progress was more than satisfactory. Only one thing remained to be asked…
“What is the news on the assembly of the two artefacts?” he inquired.
“The totem is all but finished, your majesty. The mantella has presented more of a challenge, but Vivec and Bagarn are making good advancement. I would estimate a month, perhaps a little more, before it will be ready for the final stage. The inclusion of a soul.”
“Yes,” murmured Helseth, his eyes narrowing. The problem of suitable subjects for this use was still hounding him, though he was not without a plan. “I trust Vivec has not been problematic.”
“He believes he is constructing a talisman to protect his people from the invasion of outside enemies, my lord.”
Helseth almost laughed. “How ironic.”
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Wayrest, High Rock, Last Seed, 3E 397. It is 32 years before the present day. Morgiah is 21.
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It was the next evening before Morgiah looked up from her book to see a familiar figure opening the library door.
“Hello, Karethys,” Morgiah purred. “Have you passed a pleasant day?”
“Thank you, yes,” her tutor answered in her normal clipped tone. “I thought tonight we might study stealth and concealment spells, what do you think?”
How auspicious, Morgiah thought, and smiled as she picked up her quill.
On to the next chapter