Dale had been hoping to clean himself thoroughly before running across anyone of importance, but that was not to be. Not ten seconds after he hauled himself up out of the sewer drain, there was a voice behind him.
“You there,” the person – a Nord, judging by his accent – called out. “Who are you and what are you doing?”
Dale turned to see who wanted him. It was indeed a Nord vampire, a mage, judging by his attire.
Either that or he’s had a meal in Winterhold recently and helped himself to the robes.
“I’m new here,” Dale said. “My name is Ondale Perdeti, and I was just investigating the sewers for Sovrena Tamara.” Perhaps, he thought, dropping names might make life easier for him in the short term.
The mage nodded. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, in that case. I’m Gabrien Aydril. Of House Aydril, if that isn’t obvious.”
“Oh so you’re one of the Nobles?” Dale hadn’t actually met any of them, aside from the Sovrena and her self-important lackey, Nasaris.
“Technically, that is correct, although I hardly consider myself a Noble. I am a mage, a scholar focusing in the schools of destruction and alteration.” Gabrien paused and waved around him. “House Aydril is the source of all magical might in Coldhaven. Our House helped open and strengthen the passages leading into our city. The magic of House Aydril is infused into the very stones of the Sovrena’s tower – giving it strength and protection against any attack.”
Dale nodded. “So it’s true. I had wondered about that, actually. I use spells, of course, but I don’t consider myself a mage.” Interesting. If the mages did help shape this place, that surely explains some things. But there’s something about this claim that the Tower is immune to attack that sounds more like wishful thinking than reality.
“I see. Alright, then,” Gabrien said, turning to walk away.
Hmm. What was that, an assessment? And I didn’t measure up in some way? No matter.
He headed across the roadway toward the Sovrena’s tower and was nearly to its entrance when a Khajiit seated on a bench outside the tower coughed loudly.
“Khajiit thinks that you should bathe before you visit the Sovrena,” he said, bringing Dale to a stop.
“Khajiit is absolutely correct,” Dale responded with a chuckle, turning back to face the Khajiit but trying to keep a respectful distance. “I can’t say that Coldhaven’s sewers are the nicest place I’ve ever been. Ondale Perdeti,” he added. “I’m new here, and I’d offer to shake hands but something tells me you wouldn’t appreciate it.”
The Khajiit nodded. “This one is called Marakar, of House Tarbonnis. We are the thieves and scoundrels of Coldhaven. We see all and know all.”
Dale nodded, slowly, trying to gauge how much trouble he would be in if he admitted to knowing members of the Thieves Guild. He decided to keep that to himself.
“Our House helped build Coldhaven,” Marakar continued. “Imradi, as head of the House, advises Sovrena Tamara on the Council. This one prefers to work in the background.”
“I can appreciate that,” Dale said with a grin. “Sometimes it’s better not to draw attention to oneself.” Or one risks being at odds with important people, he thought as he recalled the snarl on Brynjolf’s face at their last encounter. “My current aroma will absolutely make me stand out in a crowd, so I’d best go do something about it. Thank you for reminding me.”
He took his leave of the Khajiit and bounded back up to the Nobles’ plateau. It truly did seem the best course of action to stand in that waterfall, up near the old Dwemer lift.
It was very cold water. His thoughts raced as he showered, scrubbing his armor with sand from nearby. It seemed to him that the business of having built this place was very important to people here. Thus far, everyone had bragged about it except for the merchants.
I wonder whether this is actually the city Agryn heard of. The pride these people take in having built it make it feel much younger than that. But I have no way to tell.
He studied the Dwemer door again, trying to find any kind of latch he might have missed earlier. There was nothing. But there was definitely a Dwemer ruin down here somewhere. Perhaps this was the city Agryn had heard of, but rather than it being a vampire city it was a dwarven one?
“I just don’t know,” he muttered to himself as he did his best to shake and wring the excess water from his clothing. It wasn’t any more comfortable wet than it had been, but at least he didn’t reek any longer. At least he hoped he didn’t.
He returned to the Sovrena’s tower and stepped inside, running headlong into a Redguard woman in noble clothing.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t expect anyone here,” he blurted out, stepping back and trying to recover his composure, hoping he hadn’t permanently offended whoever this was. To his relief, the woman smiled.
“Greetings. I’m Imradi Tarbonnis, head of House Tarbonnis.”
“Ondale Perdeti,” Dale said, inclining his head. “I’m new here. I met another from your House, just outside. Marakar. A Khajiit?”
“Yes. And the fact that you are here means that you’ve probably met the former head of our house as well.”
Dale frowned. “I’m sure I don’t know who you mean.”
“Baalric,” she said in a very matter-of-fact way. “The poor man used to be the head of our House, but his partner, Jollivet, was killed by some Dawnguard and he took it badly. Very badly.”
Oh, Dale thought. That definitely sheds some light on things.
“He went completely mad for a time,” Imradi continued. “We had to restrain him after he killed half a town north of Falkreath. Baalric is a powerful vampire. I’d hate to get on his bad side. He still leaves the city to hunt, trying to avenge Jollivet’s death.”
Dale nodded slowly. “I definitely got the impression from him that he hates the Dawnguard. Now it makes sense. And yes, I met him in Ivarstead. That’s how I happened to find this city.”
She tsk’d. “This may end up being a problem.”
“I wouldn’t be too concerned,” Dale said quickly. It wouldn’t do to get Baalric in trouble or to make him angry. “I was specifically following up on rumors, so I knew to be on the lookout for another vampire. Nobody else even give him a second glance.”
He tried to change the subject. “So what can you tell me about your House?”
She smiled. “House Tarbonnis is comprised of the greatest thieves Tamriel has ever seen. I am not boasting – I merely state the facts.”
I can think of several people who might take issue with that.
“Our members have, collectively, hundreds of years of experience and expertise. We are masters of our craft.”
Oh, I see now. I suppose longevity has its advantages.
“We deal in secrets,” she continued – oddly, to Dale’s thinking, since they barely knew each other – “and we are the eyes and ears of Sovrena Tamara in this city and throughout the world above.”
“I am pleased to have made your acquaintance,” Dale said, nodding to her and stepping away as quickly as he could. Things were becoming clearer. The telescope on the Sovrena’s balcony had made him suspicious about spying, and now Imradi Tarbonnis had confirmed it. And then there’d been the mage, waiting just outside the sewer grate when he’d come back out. Things here were definitely not what they seemed.
I really need to be careful.
He worked his way through the rest of the nobles, and stepped into the Sovrena’s audience chamber. A woman stood behind the lectern, apparently preparing her notes for a speech. Sovrena Tamara sat on her throne; Dale started toward her but was interrupted by Telorsar Aydril, co-head of the mage’s House. Dale nodded and smiled, his attention wandering as the woman rambled on about how the mages were more a learning community than anything else, and how their sole purpose had been to further their magical talents – because didn’t all mages say that same thing?
“That has changed now with Sovrena Tamara. We realize that we need to band together with the other Nobles and strengthen our city.”
“Indeed,” Dale said as the woman turned to leave. Now that was interesting. Was she suggesting that there has been conflict or disagreement among the Houses? If so it might have created weaknesses, making Sicara potentially wrong to encourage commerce above ground. He cast a glance at Tamara and frowned. Or perhaps Tamara just convinced the nobles to be afraid.
Dale saw a burly Dunmer vampire with a self-confident air staring from across the room. He considered introducing himself to this person as well, but then thought better of it.
Warrior. Without a doubt. And I know how they think. They’re probably overjoyed to be Tamara’s muscle. I think it’s more important for me to report to the Sovrena.
She smiled as he stepped near, and spoke quietly.
“Well?”
“I found what was left of Dalaran in the sewers. As you feared, he’s dead – but only very recently based on the state of him.” He passed her the ring he’d taken from Dalaran’s body, as proof of his discovery.
She frowned, her gaze settling on the ring. “Damn it. I suspected as much, but I guess that it’s better now that we know for sure.” She tsk’d. “Why was he down in the sewers, anyway?” She looked directly at Dale again and continued speaking. “The people of Coldhaven are grateful for your help. There will be a time to mourn Dalaran and in the end we will emerge stronger than ever.”
Dale felt the hair on his neck prickle.
What an odd thing to say. Almost an “oh well” rather than a heartfelt reaction to the loss of one of the founders. And what’s this about emerging stronger? How could his explorations have weakened…?
His thoughts ground to a halt as the Sovrena began speaking again. “Although it pains me somewhat, I’d like to reward you with this key to Lamae’s Rest. The house once belonged to Galain, but it’s yours now.” She shook her head. “I would like to know what Dalaran was up to, though. If you find out anything else, can you please return to me with the details? Oh, and here. Keep this. It’s a handsome ring but it would bother me to wear it.” She pressed Dalaran’s ring into his palm; with that, she turned toward her court and Dale knew he’d been dismissed.
On his way back out of the audience room Dale stopped to speak to the large Dunmer. He was Yurilas Quarra, the head of House Quarra, and as Dale had expected was a man very much enamored of the strength he and his House had, especially compared with the others. Though the mages were powerful, he said, without their magic they were nothing. He sneered at the thieves, suggesting that Imradi Tarbonnis had poisoned her predecessor. When Yurilas began bragging about the weakest member of his House being able to defeat any foe naked and unarmed, Dale excused himself.
I’d wager you might think differently about that if you’d fought Potema.
As he walked slowly toward the stairs up to the Noble’s Plateau, Dale’s mind raced with all he’d learned. So there was still conflict and mistrust among the nobility, as there was in any court. But the Sovrena’s reaction to Dalaran’s death had his thoughts whirling. It had been so matter-of-fact, almost as though she’d rehearsed what to say.
Almost as though she knew he was going to die down there, and was asking the question about his actions to cover for herself. She hadn’t even bothered to search for him. And when will that time to mourn be, exactly? After I’ve found what Dalaran was looking for, or die in the attempt?
Something about all of this smells, and it’s not just my armor.
He shuddered as he used the key to open Lamae’s Rest. He was being paranoid. That’s all there was to it. It wasn’t his job to interpret all this information; it was his job to report to Agryn.
It was a delightful house. It had everything and seemed suited for either a vampire or a mortal. There were cooking areas for “normal” food as well as blood potions stored on the table and nearby shelves. Behind a door was a lavish alchemy laboratory, filled to the brim with ingredients and stacks of books. Those he gathered up, as there was a perfectly good but empty bookcase in the great room.
I don’t know why I feel compelled to neaten up. I’m not likely to use this house.
The upper level held a small bedchamber on the left and a much larger and better-appointed master room to the right. This must have been Dalaran’s room, he thought, and then shook his head. No, the Sovrena said this was Galain’s home. She’d clearly been very fond of and invested in Galain – so why had she just given a complete stranger his home?
It’s not as though it’s the only reward she could have given me. It makes no sense.
There were a great many books scattered about, and he decided to organize them, too. The first in the pile was titled “The Founding of Coldhaven” by Sovrena Sicara.
“Oho,” he said aloud, and sank down into the nearby chair to read.
It seemed that Sicara had been the one initially searching out Dwemer artifacts. She’d discovered a cave and enlisted the help of “hundreds of Falmer workers” to clear passage down to the caverns in which Coldhaven was built. Both she and Galain had put aside their research into the Dwemer while they built a safe haven for vampires. Dalaran, though, had been intent on learning magic, studying the Dwemer, and keeping an eye on mortal conflicts above-ground. Sicara had welcomed traders, but sparingly, attempting to keep the place a closely-held secret even from other vampires.
Of particular interest to Dale was a note in a different hand, scribbled at the bottom of the page. “This seems a bit … gaudy. It’s not the whole story but it certainly makes Sicara seem more heroic…”
“I wonder which of them added that,” Dale murmured to himself. “It doesn’t seem likely that it would have been either of Sicara’s companions.” He rose slowly, adding the book to the others in his arms, pondering. “And when did Tamara come into the picture? That’s the piece that puzzles me.”
He moved around the room, picking up items and putting some of them back down again. Then he spotted another text. This one had him on high alert – it was marked “Galain’s Personal Journal.”
This was clearly written later than the other volume, as Galain spoke of missing Tamara. He also declared that while admirable, Tamara’s conviction to use special weapons to protect Coldhaven was “a bit over-zealous at times.”
Hmm. Were they more than just friends? That’s the impression I got from her, to be certain.
Galain had tried to recruit other vampires from around Skyrim and had met with very little interest. He’d had a run-in with the Vigilants near Winterhold, and had reported it to Sicara, who had done nothing.
And that, Dale decided, was when the trouble had started. Galain staunchly sided with Tamara’s determination to defend the city, and maybe even extend their influence to Ivarstead, but Sicara hadn’t agreed. Galain had decided to travel, looking for Tamara – and had ended up a casualty of the Dawnguard instead.
Unsurprisingly, Dalaran had many texts about the Dwemer, including some that Dale had never heard of before. Perhaps he’d read those at some point, but for the moment he was looking for any clues as to what led Dalaran into the sewers.
Once he’d stowed the books he wandered back down the stairs, mentally noting all the items displayed on shelves. A flash of red in his peripheral vision drew his attention to the wall, where he found a red button. Intrigued, he pushed it – and then jumped aside in surprise as the short table in the center of the room flipped over and a cage with a young woman inside rose from the floor. He walked around to its front and realized that this was another thrall, like the others in the worker’s hovels but cleaner and more attractive.
“I’m not a fan of surprises, but for you I’ll make an exception,” he said, grinning at the mostly-unresponsive girl. “You’re in luck. I’m not hungry. But what a fine convenience this is! Every bit as nice as the cages in Agryn and Vyctyna’s cave.” He pushed the button again, admiring the ingenuity of the mechanisms involved as the cage lowered once more into the floor. There was a folded note on the small table between the chairs; this mentioned a “suspension field” in a “blood tank” to keep the mortals fresh. He had no idea what that meant, but the whole setup was incomparably clever.
And with that, he was stymied. He made another pass through the home, carefully searching in all of the cabinets and cupboards, and found nothing remotely like a clue. Frustrated, he placed his hands on his hips but jumped at feeling an odd lump in his pocket. Reaching inside, he found the ring that the Sovrena had given back to him.
“Huh. Forgot all about this. That’s another odd thing about her. Why would she not want a memento of a dear friend? I don’t understand.” He looked at the ring more closely. It was an attractive piece; and while he didn’t use jewelry as adornment it wouldn’t hurt to try it on. He slipped the ring onto a finger to admire it.
Everything went dark.
Dale panicked.
He didn’t often panic. He had, once, when the horrifying, icy hand of terror had sunk its claws into his heart, realizing that his mother was gone. She’d been the only real anchor he’d had in life, and without her he simply didn’t know what to do. The panic had only lasted moments; of course he would go on. There was nothing else he could do, really. He would find a way out of sheer necessity. But for that one moment he’d been caught in a free-fall of unimaginable terror.
He felt that again, now, in the utter blackness that enveloped him.
The next thing he was aware of was an active, clanking Dwemer spider halfway up a winding staircase just in front of him. He had a split second to take in his surroundings – a narrow tower, a coffin in the corner, and the sturdy wooden steps – before he was fully engaged with stopping the spider before it stopped him. And it certainly was trying to do that. Not only did it emit sparks and shocks when he struck it, but it also spat flames. He struck with both blades, fell back out of its range, and then struck again before finally separating two of its legs from its center, dismantling it.
“By Sithis, that was the worst surprise ever!” he growled. His heart continued beating wildly for a moment or two more before he managed to compose himself. It wasn’t so much the spider construct that had been the issue. It had been the utterly unexpected plunge into what felt like the Void that had nearly unhinged him.
Finally, he managed to look around himself with a clearer head and take stock of the mess created by the spider’s explosion. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for a vampire’s tower: bones, books, and several soul gems alongside containers stained with blood. There was a chest tucked in under the steps; it had a few items of minor interest inside, but nothing worth stealing. Instead, he spent a few moments restoring the soul gems and potion flasks to their shelves. It was possibly an absurd activity but he found it calming. Once finished, he walked up into the tower itself.
He felt confident this room had been Dalaran’s study, even though Galain and Sicara had also been interested in the Dwemer. There were two upright bookcases crammed full of esoteric tomes. He scanned a few that he’d not read before, but was far too rattled, still, to really study them. He mindlessly picked up copies of other books about the Dwemer and the mythical Aetherium Forge and put everything neatly back in the cabinet.
There was an enchanting station here, and on it a crumbling journal written in what Dale thought might be Dwemeris script. It might be important somehow, but would do nobody any good here in this study. He gingerly slid it into a pouch and turned to the next pile of clutter, this one on a desk.
The topmost item in the pile was another journal, this one neat and fairly recent. As he flipped it open his heart started galloping again, but this time out of excitement. He’d stumbled across Dalaran’s research notes. Once again he lowered himself onto the nearest chair and started reading.
Dalaran and others had found several hundred pounds of Dwemer scrap while clearing tunnels. He’d also found parts of a Centurion down in the sewers.
Well that is one reason he might have been back down there, though it’s been a long while since he excavated tunnels. Probably he’s been exploring down there for years. I’m sure the potential for reconstructing an inactive Dwemer Centurion might have piqued my interest as well.
As he read, Dale’s eyes grew wide. It seemed that Dalaran had translated as much of the ancient Dwemer volume as he could. Written by someone named Sthoren, it described experiments on vampires that were, in Dalaran’s words, “to permanently transfer life essence from one being to another.” It had something to do with the Heart of Lorkhan, he thought.
Dale shook his head in disbelief, and then turned to the last page. And there it was. Dalaran had found an old key, probably Dwemeri, but hadn’t found the thing it unlocked. He’d given the key to Sovrena Tamara and had then expanded his search for whatever that key opened.
“ ‘…and I will check the sewers in more detail.’ Poor fool didn’t know he was going on his last expedition,” Dale murmured aloud. He rose from the chair and slipped the journal into his back with the other.
Beneath the journal, Dalaran had placed a map of the sewers. Dale recognized it, for it was the same as the one he’d seen in the barracks with one exception: Dalaran had marked the area around the bridge as well as the entrance to the flooded tunnel where Dale had fought the Argonian. Scribbles at the bottom of the map said that’s where the man had intended to go next. At the bottom of the pile was another of Dalaran’s journals, this one confirming what Dale had already suspected. Dalaran had been frustrated in his attempts to get the Centurion working, and decided to finish his explorations in spite of sleeping very little and becoming bored with killing the skeletons.
“Lack of sleep will kill you every time, Dalaran,” Dale muttered. “Even if you’re a vampire. You can’t afford to be sloppy.”
Dale then realized he had no idea how to leave the tower.
He vaguely remembered seeing a door below when he’d been putting the lower level back in order. Perhaps that would lead back out to somewhere he recognized.
When he opened the door and stepped through, he knew where he was. He’d seen the balcony on which he stood from the Noble’s Plateau. It was atop a very tall tower hovering more or less over the human workers’ encampment where he’d found an entrance to the sewers.
And they have the nerve to talk about Sicara living apart from the others. By the gods, what would you call this if not isolated?
But he couldn’t very well jump down from this dizzying height, and he’d seen no trap doors, stairs, or ladders down. He looked down at the ring on his hand. If the ring had brought him here to the tower, he could only hope that it would also take him back if he took it off and put it back on again. As terrifying as it had been to be transported without warning, this time he’d be prepared.
The world went black again; in spite of being prepared he had a moment of perfect dread, wondering where he would end up. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the faint sounds of magic to fade; when it was quiet once more he opened his eyes again and found himself back in the main living area of Lamae’s Rest.
“Good,” he said to himself. “Works as expected. Now then. There’s no time to waste – I need to go report to Tamara. Though I fear it will mean another trip into the sewers.” He looked down at his armor and sighed. “I’m glad I still have the old set of armor stowed away in Solitude. This set is doomed.”
On the way down from Lamae’s Rest to the Sovrena’s Tower he discovered something intriguing. The pool at the edge of the Noble’s Plateau – which he’d seen but not really examined before – was full of hot water, not cold. The steam rising beneath the trickle from a narrow pipe in the stone surround was actually hot steam, not cold mist. He grinned. There would be no more cold showers under the waterfall for him.
Of course it’s hot. We’re over a Dwemer ruin!
The Sovrena was on her throne when he arrived in the Tower, and he waited respectfully until she waved him closer.
“You’ve returned,” she said.
Is that a hint of disappointment once again, Madame Sovrena? I’m sorry about that.
“Yes, and I believe I’ve discovered what Dalaran was researching. He found an ancient Dwemer journal that seems to have described experiments being conducted on vampires. I believe he went into the sewers to investigate two areas and only got to one of them – the one where I found him.”
Once again she surprised him with her reaction. “He really thought the ancient Dwemer were doing experiments on vampires somewhere around here? That sounds ridiculous. It’s true that we’ve found a great many Dwemer trinkets and scrap metal, a few weapons and even parts of animunculi, but nothing has led me to believe these old theories.”
Oh so you already knew about the theories? He spoke to you about them at some point and you didn’t think to mention that to me before I went to search for him? Once again you leave me wondering where the truth lies, Madame.
“Well…”
She shook her head. “But Dalaran was convinced, wasn’t he? I respected the man and I can’t so easily discount what he concluded. Perhaps he was on to something after all.”
“Perhaps,” Dale said, trying to think ahead so as not to arouse suspicions. “He mentioned finding an old key, and I wonder if it might open something important in the sewers. There’s at least one place I didn’t search and I don’t believe he did, either.”
“Why, yes, he did give me a key, in fact. You can have it if you like; I assume you’ll continue his research. It seems foolhardy, but here, take it. And good luck to you.”
She handed him a heavy key, clearly ancient, tarnished but solid. He gave her a bow, in return: a solid bow from the waist. He wanted to give no hint whatsoever that he didn’t trust her.
But, he thought as he left the Tower and walked reluctantly toward the stairs to the plateau, the fact is that I don’t. I just don’t trust her. There’s something wrong about all this and…
A huge yawn caught him by surprise. He thought hard about it and realized that he hadn’t had any sleep since the night in Agryn and Vyctyna’s cave. He’d been about to head for the sewers again, but there was an almost luxurious house with a comfortable-looking coffin just up the stairs from him.
The sewers would wait.