Lord of Souls: An Elder Scrolls Novel (22 page)

But it didn’t make him feel any better, and it took him longer than usual to find his way into the darkness that few could see into. But he finally got there, and made his mind as clear as it could be, and moved to the secret door that led into Hierem’s private office and quarters. The key fit, turned, and the door opened.

And, as in the house of Delia Huerc, there was something waiting for him.

Attrebus jumped back with an inchoate shout, reaching for his sword, but of course it wasn’t there. He realized his hands were up in a defensive position, and left them there.

“Who is it?” he demanded, backing quickly toward the light of his room.

“I—I’m sorry,” a woman stammered. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Well, you did,” he said. “Sneaking around in the dark—who are you?”

Her face appeared then, a young woman, probably about his age, with golden hair and a quirky, wide mouth and very blue eyes. He’d seen her before, at dinner.

“My name is Irinja,” she said. “I’m just a serving maid.”

“What were you doing outside my door?”

“I made up your room,” she said, moving a bit more into the light. He saw that she was wearing a heavily quilted robe and thick, knitted footwear. “I was just coming to make sure everything is good for you.” She looked up boldly. “Anyway,” she went on, “it looked as if you were about to do a bit of sneaking on your own.”

“Why didn’t you have a lamp, or something?”

“I grew up here, sir. I know these halls like I know my own toes. Besides, I have excellent vision at night. They say I get it from my grandfather.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “Everything is fine. The room is acceptable.”

“Good,” she said, but continued to stand there.

“That’s it, then,” he said. “Thanks for your concern.”

“Right,” she said, nodding. “I’ll just be going.”

“Good, then.”

She started to turn, but then spun back.

“What are you really about, your highness?” she asked. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“What?” he managed.

“No one else reads in this bloody castle,” she said. “They really don’t have a clue who you are. They completely fell for your story. But I’ve read every adventure about you I could get my hands on.”

Attrebus felt a peculiar warmth steal over his face, and realized he was blushing. “Listen,” he said, “I think you’ve mistaken me—”

“Don’t you
dare
!” she said. “You’re not really going to lie to me and tell me you’re some sort of horker-watcher? I’d know your likeness anywhere.”

He sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to be convinced. “Very well,” he said. “But you really mustn’t tell anyone my true identity.”

“I knew it,” she said. “You’re incognito, on some sort of adventure, aren’t you?”

“Well, now that you bring it up,” Attrebus said, “yes, I am. And it’s of a very secret nature.”

“Oh, I want to help,” she said. “Surely I can be of help.”

As he was considering that, he saw a ghostly face appear over
her shoulder. The smoldering eyes were those of Sul, and in that instant he felt the girl’s life was hanging by a thread. He shook his head violently.

“Oh, please?” she said, mistaking the object of his gesture.

“Come in,” he replied. “Shut the door.”

“Your highness,” she murmured, lowering her eyes, “I hope you don’t take me for the sort of girl—”

“No, no,” he said. “I just want this conversation to be private.”

“Well—okay, then.”

She stepped in and closed the door, but even before she did, Sul was no longer visible.

“Irinja, you say?”

“Yes, highness.”

“Okay, Irinja. The first thing is you have to stop calling me highness, or prince, or anything like that. I’m Uriel—do you have that?”

“Yes, hi—Uriel.”

“Good. The next thing—tell me about this place. You say you grew up here. Tell me about Lord Sathil. I’m puzzled that I haven’t met him.”

“Well, he’s changed,” she said. “When I was a little girl, he was always around, always in good cheer. We all went on excursions to the sea, and in the summer played bowling on the lawns. My brother used to hunt with him. It was nice, back then.”

“And now?”

“Well—things happened,” she said. “He’s not the same now. He hardly ever comes out. But he doesn’t mistreat us. You shouldn’t think that.”

“Things happened? What sort of things?”

Irinja looked uncomfortable. “I’m not really supposed to say,” she replied. “Nobody talks about it.”

“You said you wanted to help me,” he reminded her.

“And I do,” she replied. “But if this is about Lord Sathil …”

“I mean Sathil no harm,” Attrebus assured her. “Or anyone here.”

“There are just things we don’t like to talk about,” she said, sighing.

“Okay,” he said. “Have a seat. I’m going to explain to you why I’m here, but it will take some time.”

“Very well,” she said.

And so he told her about Umbriel and its undead army, and Annaïg, and how he and Sul had gone through Oblivion, first to Morrowind and now here. He showed her his scar.

When he was done, she looked down at her knees.

“You’ve come here for the sword, then,” she said. “For Umbra.”

“Yes. Because I believe it is the only thing that can stop Umbriel.”

“Don’t tell anyone else that,” she said softly. “Don’t ask about the sword at all.”

“Why?”

She looked up at him. “I want to help you,” she said. “But I have to think.”

“Listen,” he said. “Every moment we wait, more people die, and the more soldiers the enemy has. Minutes are precious, days are treasures.”

“I know,” she said. “But I can’t just—I have to think.”

“Will you come back here, tomorrow night?”

She nodded. “It’s probably the only time we wouldn’t be noticed and heard.”

“Good, then,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She left, and when he was certain she was gone, he went next door to Sul’s room.

Sul was waiting for him.

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked the Dunmer.

“Most, I think. Are you sure that was wise, telling her why we came?”

“I had to do something. At least we know that the sword is a hornet’s nest, somehow.”

“Yes, and that girl is one of the hornets. You’ve asked her to betray the rest of them, and you don’t know why or what’s at stake. For all we know, someone will be back here to cut our throats before morning.”

“I trust her,” Attrebus said. “She might not help us, but she won’t do anything to hurt us.”

“Hurt you, you mean.”

“Look, unless you’ve had another vision that tells us where the sword is, we’ve got very little chance of finding it without help. You saw how big this place is. Even if we could move through the castle at will, unobserved, it could take weeks, months. In fact, we don’t know it’s even here, do we?”

“I’m just wondering how much you thought this through and how much comes from your pike.”

“My what?” But then he got it, and felt his face warm. “Now, really—” he began.

“That woman I found you with—the one who kidnapped you. The one I killed. You trusted her, didn’t you? Slept with her?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And this whole chase, this quest of yours—that started with a girl, too—this Annaïg you’re so set to rescue.”

“Maybe that was part of it, yes, but Umbriel did rather sound like something that needed taking on.”

“Your judgment just seems a bit hasty and simple when pretty girls are involved.”

“Well, possibly,” he admitted. “But it’s done now.”

“There’s still time. Something could happen to her on the way to wherever she’s going.”

“No,” Attrebus snapped. “No, do you hear me? She’ll help us or she won’t, but I won’t have her hurt.”

“Well,” Sul muttered, “let’s hope she feels the same about you.”

Glim wasn’t aware when silence and darkness claimed him; he didn’t know how long they had lasted—it might have been hours or days. But after the quiet came the voices, the gentle murmur of the trees, drawing him into the dream of thought, where past and future were irrelevant illusions and his mind was unhampered by reference to anything at all. And so he remained for a time, until finally the ache of hunger and the pain of his wounds brought him nearer to the world. The voices were still there, leading him through the twisting roots, finally into the light, amidst the great boughs of the Fringe Gyre. He climbed higher, until he could see the buildings above and get his bearings.

None of them looked familiar, which could only mean he was on the wrong side of the rim. Groaning, he began picking his way from tree to tree, hoping his quivering limbs didn’t fail him.

It was nightfall before he found the place, and all he could do was collapse and hope he didn’t die before Fhena found him.

“I’ve never seen anyone hurt like this,” Fhena murmured, pressing something that looked like yellow fur against the wound in his side.

He finished swallowing the whatever-it-was she had given him to eat. “That feels good,” he said, looking around. They were in some sort of cavity in the tree, irregular in shape. Light came in from around the bend, but he couldn’t see sky.

Then her comment registered.

“You’ve never seen anyone hurt? How do you know what to do?”

“No, of course I’ve seen injuries. Ixye broke his leg in a fall yesterday. I meant I’ve never seen someone hurt on purpose.”

He coughed out a little laugh. “I don’t understand. Murder seems to be the most common pastime in Umbriel.”

“Not up here,” she said. “Not in the trees. I know below is horrible. I’ve heard about it. But bad things don’t really happen up here.”

“Maybe it’s the trees themselves,” Glim mused. “Their influence. Anyway—I’m sorry to be your first.”

“Well, if someone had to be—” she began playfully.

“I can’t stay long,” he interrupted.

“Right,” She agreed. “You need to hurry back down there and get something else stuck in you. I understand.”

“They’ll look up here for me,” he said. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“They looked up here for you yesterday,” she said. “I hid you. They passed by.”

“Yesterday? How long have I been up here?”

“Three days, reckoned by this sun,” she replied. “I gave you something to help you sleep.”

“I—Three days?”

“It’s what the trees prescribed,” she said.

“The trees?”

“Yes. Our usual medicines didn’t help you very much, so I asked the trees what to do and they told me.”

“Okay,” Glim said, trying to sit up. “Three days? From now on, when the trees tell you to do something, you ask me first.”

She frowned. “There wasn’t much ‘asking you,’ ” she said. “You weren’t really in much of a state to answer. Nor would you be now, if I hadn’t done what I did, for that matter.”

She turned away from him.

“Look, Fhena—”

“And now you’re just going to go right back down there. Stupid!”

“They’ll search here again,” he said. “Besides, the skraws are counting on me. Who knows what’s been going on?”

He saw her head sink a little.

“Wait,” he said. “You know. You’ve heard something.”