"What good is it, Falcotte? You have taken a perfectly good spell, a very powerful spell actually, and made it useless." The speaker was Ilmeni Nelas, born in Blacklight in Morrowind, advanced student at the College of Winterhold in Skyrim. She might not have been from one of the Great Houses, but she certainly came across that way much of the time. Ilmeni came from a wealthy family and was every bit as skilled in the magical arts as she thought she was. The other students and even the teachers at the College paid attention when she discussed magic and the occult.
A group of ten students was sitting in the Hall of the Elements discussing the latest work of Falcotte, a Breton who had joined the College less than a year earlier. He was not a popular student and had caused some distress with an earlier study he had done on the Great Collapse.
Several weeks before, Falcotte had witnessed a demonstration of the flame cloak spell, which would enshroud the caster in swirling aura of intense heat. Anything the aura touched would get severely burned, and Falcotte imagined it would eventually kill anything exposed to it for too long. Falcotte didn't think he was skilled enough to maintain enough focus to keep an aura of such intense heat from flying apart, but he thought of a different use.
It was a matter of total energy flow; rather than holding together an aura of intense heat for a relatively short amount of time, he wanted to hold a much less intense aura together for a much longer amount of time. He worked on maintaining the necessary control and after several weeks had reached the point where he could keep together an aura that was sufficiently warm that he could remain comfortable even when exposed to the winter wind and cold. The aura wouldn't harm anyone, and it wasn't meant to, even if that was the purpose of the spell that gave Falcotte inspiration.
"Ilmeni, it wasn't meant to be a replacement for the flame cloak spell. It was meant as a shield against cold weather."
"We have clothes for that, Falcotte," said Ilmeni derisively. "Perhaps after all of us learn your new spell we can start walking around naked?" The comment brought laughter from the assembled students. Most of them agreed with Ilmeni that the spell was useless. Even the students that weren't sycophants of Ilmeni weren't fools enough to cross her by siding with Falcotte. Ilmeni was a skilled mage and found Falcotte's spell contemptible, so it was best to pretend that it was contemptible even if you weren't certain.
The mockery continued and grew in volume until Falcotte decided to give up trying to defend the new spell and leave the Hall of Elements.
The reaction to his spell was a microcosm of the general reaction Falcotte received from his fellow students. He simply did not fit in well at the College. He would think about some issue in a very different way than others or try to apply old ideas and spells in new ways. For some reason he couldn't understand, his fellow students and most of the instructors seemed incapable of understanding why Falcotte did what he did.
Magic spells were focused primarily on destroying your enemy, stopping your enemy from harming you, and repairing any damage that your enemy actually managed to inflict. There were a handful of utility type spells such as a simple light spell, but they were the exception to the rule. Even enchanting services and magic focused on making armor more effective and weapons more lethal. Falcotte was more interested in finding new utilitarian uses for magic than continually refining the martial aspects of magic.
Perhaps, thought Falcotte, it was a consequence of living in such a harsh and dangerous environment. These people were just focusing on what they needed to stay alive. Still, if the mages didn't have the drive and imagination to see beyond the martial aspects and uses of magic there was little hope that society would start clamoring for such a change.
Falcotte was still trying to wrap his head around this riddle when he reached his room in the Hall of Attainment. He was shocked to see Avik Sendu, the College Quartermaster, waiting for him.
Avik Sendu was a Redguard merchant who had spent most of his early years trading along the caravan routes that snaked between oases in the Alik'r Desert. When he tired of the life of a caravan trader, Avik took the Quartermaster position at the College of Winterhold. His duties included keeping the mages supplied with potion ingredients and supplies to further their studies, and he was responsible for maintaining more mundane supplies such as food and bedding. Avik also had to maintain the supply of coal, charcoal, and wood used to heat the furnaces and keep the living spaces warm. That was the reason he was waiting for Falcotte.
"Okay, mage, where are you stealing the brazier charcoal?" Despite working at the College and being surrounded by mages, Avik still had a deep distrust, bordering on loathing, for most of them. His tone left little doubt about his opinion of Falcotte.
"I'm sorry, Quartermaster? I am not a thief."
Throughout the College grounds were founts of arcane energy that provided light and some heat. However, they didn't provide sufficient heat to keep the living quarters comfortably warm, so each room had a brazier where charcoal could be burned to provide additional heat.
Avik passed his hand over the brazier in Falcotte's quarters. "The storm three nights ago was so fierce that the Arch Mage himself came down to the Stores to get extra charcoal. Everyone came down for extra charcoal, mage; everyone but you."
Before Falcotte could reply, Avik turned back to the brazier and looked inside. He stopped, a look of confusion formed on his face. Avik scraped the brazier with his finger; it came away without a trace of ash.
"When was the last time you used this, mage?"
Falcotte was becoming irritated at the accusatory town and replied sharply, without thinking, "My name in Falcotte, not 'mage'. The last time I used the brazier was a few weeks ago."
"Weeks? How?" The Quartermaster was shocked and didn't seem to notice the disrespectful tone from a junior mage.
"Magic has uses other than torching your enemies or mending the wounds they inflict on you.
"I modified a spell so that instead of causing terrible burns to anyone nearby, it simply warms the air around the caster. The longer it is maintained, the warmer the air becomes."
Without warning the Quartermaster, Falcotte invoked the spell. Instantly, a light, warm breeze began to circulate around Falcotte. Avik initially pulled back in alarm but then tentatively put his hand into the swirling air.
"I have felt the heat of that flame cloak spell. This is nothing like that."
"At first, I just had the heat slowly increase, but even such a small amount of energy flow quickly became uncomfortable. I added the breeze to diffuse and distribute the heat. Now, it can heat a room instead of just a single individual." Falcotte was excited to explain the spell to a receptive audience; even if the audience was a single, magic-hating, Redguard merchant.
"How long can you maintain this?" Avik's attitude had completely changed. He immediately started to think about the useful applications of such a spell.
"I can hold it as long as I can remain conscious. However, it only takes a few minutes to heat a room this size, so if I maintain it longer than that, the room becomes uncomfortably hot. After the room reaches a comfortable temperature, I can stop the spell and then invoke it again when the room cools back down.
"This causes repeated interruptions to whatever I am doing, but it works and saves the College the cost of charcoal to heat my room."
Avik did some quick calculations in his head to get a feel for the cost savings if everyone used the spell instead of burning charcoal. A substantial amount of his budget was literally burned up every year.
"Could we replace all of the charcoal burned if all of the staff and students used this spell?
"I don't think that would work very well. Maybe someone more advanced could rework the spell so that the crafting furnaces could be replaced. However, there seems to be an upper limit on the total amount of heat that can be summoned. The hotter the spell, the shorter the duration. I don't know for certain, but I also suspect that there is some upper limit on the number of people within a given area that can cast the spell simultaneously. As more people invoke the spell, it will become more difficult and the energy transfer will become less efficient."
"Okay, it won't completely replace charcoal consumption. Let me think about it and see if I can get some estimates of cost savings."
Avik started muttering to himself as he left Falcotte's room.
Falcotte went back to pondering the riddle of why such a simple and obvious use of magic had not been implemented already. His fellow students couldn't seem to grasp the idea, but the Quartermaster grasped the concept immediately.
Falcotte and Avik sat at a table across from Arch Mage, Savos Aren. Avik was eagerly discussing a series of calculations and charts he'd prepared after talking to Falcotte. He had prepared a report showing projected cost savings dependent upon the number of people that could cast the heating breeze spell simultaneously. He even included estimates based on staggering the casters and estimates of room cool down times.
The Arch Mage listened intently to the Quartermaster's presentation. When Avik had finished, the Arch Mage turned to Falcotte and said, "You named it the 'heating breeze'?"
Falcotte started to stammer, but Avik cut him off. "Falcotte didn't name it, Arch Mage, I did. Besides what in Oblivion do I know about how you occultists name your infernal creations?"
The Arch Mage gave a small grin, picked up the Quartermaster's notes and charts, and studied them in silence for several minutes.
"Falcotte is correct. This spell will get progressively more difficult and less efficient as the number of simultaneous casters increases. I think the cost savings will be somewhere between your lower and mid-range estimates. Staggering the casting schedule probably won't improve the cost savings by more than a couple percent."
The Arch Mage looked back to Falcotte and said, "Even the lowest estimate of cost savings is significant and should more than cover your tuition for as long as you care to stay here, Falcotte.
"Let Avik and me discuss his proposals, and later, Mirabelle and I will meet with you to learn this new spell."
The Arch Mage made a dismissive gesture indicating that Falcotte should depart.
Falcotte quickly got to his feet and left the Arch Mage's quarters. The meeting wasn't as odd as the first meeting he'd had with the Arch Mage, but he wasn't certain how to feel about being dismissed so abruptly. The Arch Mage had seemed attentive when the Quartermaster spoke and he'd confirmed Falcotte's suspicion about the increasing difficulty and decreasing efficiency.
However, the Arch Mage hadn't said anything really positive about the magic involved or the novel use of a well established spell. All he'd done was ridicule the name Avik had given the spell.
Falcotte eventually decided that having his tuition paid for the rest of his time at the College was enough reward and recognition, whatever the Arch Mage's opinion of the magic involved.
This effort was already more profitable than his earlier investigation of the Great Collapse.
As he approached the exit from the Hall of Elements, Urag gro-Shub came through the door. Falcotte was starting to consider the relatively limited number of problems magic had been employed to solve, and something clicked in his mind when he saw the orc scholar.
"Master Librarian, can I interrupt you to ask some questions?"
The orc's expression was hard to interpret, but he waved Falcotte toward the door to the Arcanaeum. "You already have, Falcotte. Come, we will talk at my desk," he said in his gravelly voice.
Falcotte followed Urag gro-Shub into the Arcanaeum and pulled a chair over to the desk. Urag put away some scrolls and neatened up his desk before sitting back and asking, "What do you want to know?"
"You are…unusual among orcs, Urag." Falcotte saw the Master Librarian stiffen and could see muscles on his neck and arms begin to twitch slightly. Falcotte knew this was a touchy subject, so he hurried on to ask his question. "How is it that you think so differently from your fellow orcs? I am in a similar situation since I apparently think differently from my fellow students and even the instructors here at the College."
The muscles stopped twitching, and Falcotte could sense the orc starting to relax.
"The Orsimer culture is saturated with personal honor, violence, and warfare. The conditioning starts with newborns and continues until we die, ideally in combat.
"The Nords have a similar outlook on life and a culture that celebrates personal honor along with feats of strength and martial prowess.
"The Dunmer have always been a grim and violent race. Even their legends of the beginning of time are filled with dark imagery and hints of a coming violent end to everything.
"Perhaps, I can be a scholar and you can think of new and non-violent ways to apply magic because we live in conditions secure enough that we don't need to be ready to defend our lives every second of every day."
"Maybe, Urag gro-Shub, but I am not the first mage to live in such relative security. Why didn't the mages that came before me think such new thoughts?"
The orc shrugged, "The mages here have been secure enough to expand magic beyond obviously martial applications more than they have. I archive the works and reports of everyone at the College, and most of them are reworks or minor improvements on already existing works.
"There is always a trickle of significant original work, but it isn't as large as it should be."
"Could it be something to do with this location? The Great Collapse was about 80 years ago, but there are damaged buildings that haven't been cleared away, and there isn't any sign of Winterhold being rebuilt.
"It is like progress stopped after the Great Collapse and the locals just exist without really living or growing much."
They continued to discuss the subject for a while longer. They came up with various possible reasons and hypotheses for the general malaise of Winterhold and lack of truly original research from the College. However, they didn't decide on what the right answer might be, and Falcotte suspected that there were multiple factors, mundane and spiritual. He remembered the statement Sigurd Stoneway's shade made about the trapped spirits of Nords who had perished in the Great Collapse. Falcotte didn't mention the detail with Urag gro-Shub, but he wondered if their plight was affecting the people in the material world. Falcotte did suggest that perhaps some aspect of the Great Collapse, either the cause or a result of it was in some way responsible.
Urag gro-Shub thought the cause was mostly issues of the mundane. The only affect of the Great Collapse would be the residual sadness of those left behind and those who learned of the tragedy. The residual left behind from such powerful and tragic events could linger on for decades, but Urag didn't feel it was a major factor. The locals had obviously not moved beyond the event, but Urag gro-Shub didn't think that the event itself was somehow producing some sort of malevolent effect.
"Perhaps Phinis Gestor could shed some light on the issue. He traffics in daedric beings and the undead, so is already more attuned to the unseen spiritual world than most."
Locating Phinis Gestor turned out to be much more difficult than Falcotte thought it would. Most people replied, "No idea," when Falcotte asked if they knew where he could find the Master Conjuror. Several of the students seemed shocked or even recoiled when Falcotte mentioned Phinis. Falcotte had seen Phinis from a distance but had never spoken with him. The negative reaction of his fellow students confused Falcotte.
It was on the third day of his search when Falcotte was summoned to the Arch Mage's quarters. When he arrived, the Arch Mage, Mirabelle Ervine, and Faralda were waiting. He spent a few minutes describing the alterations to the flame cloak spell and then demonstrated it. The Arch Mage, Master Wizard, and Destruction Master all immediately grasped the concept of the spell and invoked it without effort.
After they had experimented with it for several minutes, the Arch Mage looked at Faralda and asked, "Well?"
"A very interesting application, well designed and implemented. I might be able to make it marginally more efficient, but I suspect the effort will not be worth the return."
Savos Aren raised his hand and interrupted her. "Perhaps the return will not be worthwhile for a single user over a short timeframe. However, every bit of efficiency applied over the entire College for years to come will result in substantial savings. Please see how much you can improve on Falcotte's implementation."
The three of them continued to discuss the spell and how it might be used. Falcotte stood silently and listened, often getting lost in the implementation or arcane details. He felt like a young boy who played with blocks listening to a conversation among the engineers and master artisans who built magnificent palaces.
Finally, Savos Aren turned to Falcotte and said, "Very good, Falcotte. You may go now," in his usual casual manner.
Falcotte hesitated and asked, "Arch Mage, I have been trying to find Phinis Gestor for three days. Do you know where I might catch him?"
The others stopped talking and stared at Falcotte. The Arch Mage's expression was almost neutral, but Mirabelle and Faralda looked concerned that Falcotte was trying to find the Master Conjuror.
The Arch Mage replied slowly, "The Master Conjuror conducts most of his research in an out of the way corner in The Midden. His work tends to make others…uncomfortable.
"Why are you looking for the Master Conjuror?"
Falcotte explained the conversation he'd had with Urag gro-Shub and the Master Librarian's suggestion about discussing the matter with the Master Conjuror.
When Falcotte finished his explanations, the Arch Mage nodded and replied, "A very interesting hypothesis, Falcotte." He turned toward Mirabelle and Faralda and continued, "The boy just called us unoriginal thinkers who are too doltish to get past our current ways of thinking. Think about what he has said, and we will talk about it with the rest of the staff in a couple of weeks."
Falcotte was horrified at the way the Arch Mage characterized his hypothesis. He hadn't associated his question with some deficiency in the staff. Falcotte wished he could melt into the floor and disappear.
"Arch Mage,…" he began to try to explain.
The Arch Mage cut him off. "All of us have felt the same thing from time to time, Falcotte. You just put it into a more direct form. If the youngest members of the College see this, there must be some real issue we should address.
"Go hunt down the Master Conjuror and ask him about your hypothesis.
"We will begin teaching and applying your heating breeze spell and see if we can't reduce the Quartermaster's charcoal costs."
The Arch Mage turned back to Mirabelle and Faralda. Falcotte left quickly, thankful that the Arch Mage hadn't taken offense to the insult, however unintentional it had been.
Even knowing that the Master Conjuror was in The Midden did not help Falcotte. He still could not find him. There were several entrances to The Midden, so Falcotte could not simply station himself at one and wait for the Master Conjuror to pass through. The Midden was a place to hide things; people, bodies, unsuccessful experiments, successful experiments, dangerous or forbidden magic, anything that someone did not want exposed to the light of day or scrutiny of others.
Falcotte was also unable to locate the "out of the way corner" where Phinis did his research.
It was three days after the heating breeze meeting that the Arch Mage found Falcotte during a break from the search.
"How is your work with the Master Conjuror proceeding?"
Falcotte hesitated before replying, "Arch Mage, I haven't been able to find him, even with your suggestion of searching The Midden." Falcotte didn't like to admit his failure, but it would be foolish to bluff and try to convince the Arch Mage that he had actually found Phinis.
The Arch Mage nodded and grinned. "Yes," he said, "the Master Conjuror can be difficult to locate when he is engaged in research.
"Well, keep looking, and when you find him, please give him these." The Arch Mage handed Falcotte a rather plain looking pair of gloves.
"He wears these when tending his garden. Some of the plants he grows produce…interesting effects if they are handled with bare hands too much."
The Arch Mage didn't wait around to see if Falcotte had any comments or questions. He simply turned and left as quickly as he had approached.
Falcotte was confused, much like he was after any interaction with the Arch Mage. Couldn't the Arch Mage have simply left the gloves in the Master Conjuror's quarters? It was three hours later when Falcotte realized that the Arch Mage had provided him a near perfect focus. There were numerous spells and charms to locate lost people and objects, and Falcotte had tried several of them over the six days he had been searching. None of them worked. With the gloves as a focus, something Phinis had touched and owned, the spells would be much more effective.
He took the gloves into The Midden and incanted a common finding spell. Instantly, he felt a pull deeper into The Midden. The pull would continue while the spell lasted, but it would fade after a few minutes, and Falcotte would restart the spell. After about half an hour, Falcotte found himself in a section of The Midden that he'd never entered before. The entrance to this portion of The Midden was in a nearly invisible alcove that Falcotte had passed several times.
Falcotte heard Phinis' voice before he saw him. The Master Conjuror was reciting some invocation in a language and tone that Falcotte had never heard. Falcotte turned a corner in the tunnel just as Phinis completed the invocation, and Falcotte saw what appeared to be a sword, materialize in the Master Conjuror's hand. The sword didn't look entirely solid, and it was enshrouded in a mist of ever changing color. Falcotte couldn't even guess what kind of material it was made from, but even in the dim light, he could tell that it wasn't any mundane metal.
Something about the conjured blade was wrong though. Falcotte had a sense of unease, almost nausea, in his guts when he looked at it.
"So, you finally found me," the Master Conjuror said as he turned and pointed the blade at Falcotte.
The unnatural blade and Master Conjuror's statement rattled Falcotte. "You knew I was searching for you, Master Conjuror?"
"Of course. How could anyone miss you tramping around down here?" His tone was not particularly friendly or amused. Falcotte often felt surprised or caught off guard with the Arch Mage, but the Master Conjuror did not have Savos Aren's sense of humor. He sounded and appeared to be deadly serious.
Falcotte held out the gloves. "The Arch Mage asked me to return these to you, Master Conjuror."
"The Arch Mage had mercy on you, you mean," replied Phinis.
The idea that the Arch Mage had purposefully given him the gloves to act as a focus had not occurred to Falcotte. Surprise must have shown on his face.
"Oh come now. You mean to say that you hadn't considered that.
"Savos Aren is not as big a fool and you are not as clever as you think." The Master Conjuror's tone had an edge of contempt.
The Master Conjuror was still pointing the sword at Falcotte, and the young mage wondered if he was going to end up in one of the many cisterns in The Midden.
"Do you really believe that the senior members of the College actually tell you students everything and share all of our research with you? We let you learn mostly on your own and at whatever pace you are capable. The Arch Mage is more kindly and patient than most, and he often helps students along more than the rest of us, but he is the Arch Mage for a reason. When it seems to you that he is not making sense or performs some utterly random act, don't presume that there is something amiss with him. Wonder instead why you are too stupid to understand what he is trying to tell you."
Falcotte's expression again must have betrayed his surprise at the Master Conjurer's description of how Falcotte thought about his interactions with the Arch Mage.
Phinis shook his head and continued to belittle Falcotte. "You students are all the same."
The Master Conjuror pointed the conjured sword at the ceiling and turned the blade back and forth, inviting Falcotte to examine the weapon. "You see this weapon. Anyone worth the title mage can learn in ten minutes how to conjure a similar weapon. If he drove that weapon into the guts of a foe, that foe would die just as surely as if the weapon was made of steel.
"This weapon is something more though. It cleaves the physical flesh, but it also wounds the soul, spirit, or whatever it is that makes a person a unique individual. The wound to the spirit does not last long, but if the body dies before it has healed, the spirit falls apart.
"Do you understand what that means? If I were to kill you with this sword, whatever your destiny was in the afterlife becomes moot. You would utterly cease to exist in any form. In fact, I could trap some of your very soul in a special mineral and use it to enchant a steel dagger or an old hat.
"That is a thought that should turn your blood to ice water, Falcotte."
Falcotte backed away from the Master Conjuror. He suddenly understood why even the sight of the sword made his stomach turn and skin crawl.
Phinis did not move toward Falcotte but continued speaking, "Do you think that I would teach any student here how to conjure such a weapon as this one? What sort of horrors would be unleashed on Tamriel if we taught you foolish students more than just the bare minimum?
"Last week, I saw Tolfdir in the Hall of Elements with a group of new students. He was trying to impress on them how important it was to develop control and an understanding of magic. None of you really think about how dangerous the power you play with truly is. Tolfdir tried repeatedly to make them understand the danger, but all they wanted to see were fireballs and lightning bolts. Bright lights and loud noises are all you understand. Apparently, he now has them climbing around inside of Saarthal looking for who knows what.
"Like the Arch Mage, Tolfdir is a kind and gentle soul; if I were in his place I would just leave them to their own devices and let them kill themselves."
Falcotte was shocked at the contempt and low opinion the Master Conjuror had for the students.
"Anyway, enough of my talking to the air. Tell me what you want."
Falcotte haltingly explained his hypothesis about the spirits of the dead killed in the Great Collapse keeping the residents of Winterhold from truly letting go and moving on with their lives. He talked about speaking with the spirit of Sigurd Stoneway, and said that is what got him thinking about the spirits of the others who died in the Great Collapse. If Sigurd's spirit was unable to find rest, Falcotte wondered if the other Nord spirits were also unable to find peace and move on with their afterlife. He asked if those spirits might be affecting the minds of the members of the College; perhaps stunting their ability to form new conceptions and uses for magic.
Phinis thought for a while after Falcotte finished speaking. Finally, he replied, "I have heard the spirits whispering deep in The Midden. There are cisterns that reach deep into the rock below the College, and I have felt the presence of spirits in some of them. There is no doubt that the spirits of those killed in the Great Collapse still linger in the rocks below us, but the voices have seemed weak and powerless.
"The Arch Mage and I have discussed whether we should try and free the spirits from whatever is holding them in place. "
Falcotte again was caught off guard by the admission. He hadn't mentioned Sigurd telling him about the trapped spirits. Again, his face must have betrayed his thoughts.
"Of course we know about the trapped spirits! Do you think I needed the shade of a long dead Nord student to help me understand the whispering I hear coming from the bowels of Nirn?"
Falcotte just shook his head. His estimation of the College and instructors was changing rapidly. He wasn't certain what purpose the College served other than as a place of teaching less experienced mages, but it was becoming obvious that he'd been severely underestimating the instructor's and their knowledge and awareness.
"Go ahead and pursue this as far as you would like, Falcotte. Just remember my sword and understand that the consequences of the events you set in motion may result in the destruction of your very soul or something worse. At least show some hint of intelligence and seek out the Arch Mage or one of the other instructors before you do something stupid. Sigurd Stoneway's haste and arrogance resulted in the Great Collapse; what catastrophe will your ignorance and stupidity bring down on us?
"Now, leave me in peace to pursue my research."
Falcotte returned to his quarters to think about what the Conjuration Master had said.
Falcotte started dividing his days between reading and researching in the Arcanaeum and exploring The Midden. He read everything he could find on conjuration, necromancy, and interacting with beings in the spirit world. He also looked for works on the history and layout of The Midden. In an old and tattered scroll, he found a partial map of The Midden. Falcotte knew that it had been made long years before because he immediately spotted several areas that had been expanded or extended since the map's creation. However, it showed a number of places that Falcotte had never entered or explored.
Falcotte used the map to assist in his explorations of The Midden, but he also began correcting it and bringing it up to date. He became more careful and methodical about investigating the dark and shadowed corners of chambers. The entrance to the section used by Phinis looked like nothing more than shadows in the corner of a large chamber, and Falcotte wondered how many other such entrances he'd passed in his searches.
During his more careful exploration, Falcotte paid special attention to the many wells scattered throughout The Midden. Some appeared to have been designed and built with care; others appeared to be nothing more than holes drilled down into the rock foundation of the College. A few appeared to be natural features rather than manmade structures. Being near some of them made Falcotte feel uneasy, but he never heard anything like the whispering that Phinis described. Admittedly, he was only familiar with the bare rudiments of magic dealing with beings inhabiting other planes of existence, so perhaps he was simply not listening in the correct manner.
After a while, he began focusing his search of the Arcanaeum on texts describing methods of contacting the spirits of the dead. Most of the works he found were descriptions on summoning and controlling the spirits. That was not what he was after though. He wanted them to speak to him in the same way Sigurd Stoneway had. He finally found what he wanted in a scroll written by someone named Agnia. The scroll described a phrase to repeat while meditating that would attune the mind to the world of the dead.
The scroll appeared to have been written fairly recently, but Falcotte didn't know of any Agnia in attendance at the College. However, Urag gro-Shub immediately recognized the name when Falcotte asked him about it.
"That would be Agnia the Witch. She was a student, a Breton like you, who left here about ten years ago. Agnia was a favorite of Phinis Gestor, and she was quite skilled in conjuration and elemental destruction magic. She was every bit as grim and serious as the Conjuration Master, and she showed even more contempt for her fellow students than he did.
"I am not certain why she left, but I have never heard that there was any scandal. I think maybe she learned what she needed from the College and simply moved on."
"Well, tomorrow I am going to try the meditation she described. There are a couple of wells in The Midden that make me feel particularly uneasy, so that is where I will try to communicate with the spirits."
The next day, Falcotte entered The Midden and made his way to one of the cisterns. He seated himself and began to meditate. Agnia specifically wrote that proximity to the spirits enhanced the chance that they would be willing to communicate. The feeling he got near this particular cistern was similar to what he felt in Sigurd Stoneway's tomb, so it seemed like a logical place to make his first attempt to speak with the dead.
He'd been meditating for about an hour when he became aware of the whispering. At first, he couldn't be certain that he wasn't simply hearing a weak breeze circulating within the cistern. This was one of the natural formations, and Falcotte suspected that air entered through cracks in the walls. After listening closely, however, he became aware of individual voices, each with a distinct cadence. He couldn't understand the words; it was like listening to a multitude of people whispering from the far end of a long hallway.
Falcotte kept repeating the mantra and straining to understand the whispering. Slowly, a single voice came to dominate the whispering. As the other voices died away, he began to understand what the dominant voice was saying.
The first thing he fully understood was, "You are not Agnia." Falcotte continued the mantra and the voice continued to repeat, "You are not Agnia." After some time, a new phrase started to repeat, "Agnia was the last to speak with us."
Falcotte wanted to respond, tell the spirits that Agnia was gone, and ask them who they were and why they remained. However, he was having difficulty just continuing the mantra and listening to what the voice was saying.
He continued the mantra but began including the words, "Great Collapse" after every fourth or fifth repetition. After the fifth inclusion, the whispering voice began including another phrase, "Sigurd knows" and then sometime later "Agnia knows."
Falcotte reduced the repetitions of the mantra, increased the frequency of "Great Collapse" and added, "Trapped spirits."
For many repetitions the spirit continued repeating what it had been saying then it stopped altogether. Falcotte worried that it wasn't going to say anything else. He stopped the mantra and was about to end the meditation altogether when a final declaration came from the cistern.
"Curse the Dunmer. Agnia knows."
Then all was quiet, and Falcotte knew that the spirit would not say anything more.
No one at the College knew what had become of Agnia or where she might have gone. Phinis had been closest to her, but he only shrugged his shoulders and shook his head when Falcotte asked about her. None of the writings or works she left at the College gave any hint of where she might have gone. The student records kept by Urag gro-Shub didn't have any information about what she had done or where she had been before coming to the College.
While he searched for clues about where Agnia might have gone, he began to ponder the question of the Dunmer. "Curse the Dunmer," the spirit had said, but there had been hundreds of Dunmer to attend the College in the decades before and since the Great Collapse. Even the current Arch Mage, Savos Aren, was a Dunmer. Falcotte's initial thought was that the Dunmer referenced was Delos Velothi, Sigurd Stoneway's Alteration instructor and mentor, but Delos had tried to save the College and Winterhold from collapse, so why would the spirit curse him?
Falcotte emerged from the Arcanaeum early one morning after spending the night researching and reading. The Hall of Elements was filled with students and teachers talking excitedly about the "great find" brought back from Saarthal. Falcotte could see inside the hall as people moved past him, and the sight captivated him. Floating in the center of the hall was a sphere, enshrouded in pulsing green light. Glyphs and designs that Falcotte couldn't begin to translate covered the surface, and he heard a faint humming sound coming from it.
He tried to get closer for a better look, but the larger and more aggressive students simply shoved past him until he was, quite literally, forced back to the door leading out to the courtyard. Falcotte eventually gave up on the idea of getting closer for a better look and left the Hall of Elements altogether.
Once outside, he noticed Phinis standing to the side. He was watching the students and staff force themselves through the door.
"This will end badly," said Phinis when he saw Falcotte looking at him.
Falcotte was about to ask him what he meant when Ancano, the Altmer representative of the Thalmor came striding up the walk toward the Hall of Elements. "Out of my way, vermin!" he shouted while waving his arms. No one much cared for Ancano, but no one dared cross him.
Falcotte decided that he would try to get a better look at the artifact after the excitement had died down. He nodded to Phinis and went to his room to sleep and recover from the night of study.
Falcotte had not visited Winterhold much since the end of his research on the Great Collapse. He'd tried to explain to the residents what he'd found in his investigation, and some people understood how complicated the situation was. Most people, however, kept returning to the question, "Whose fault was it?" As Jarl Korir predicted, most people wanted a simple, unambiguous answer, and the truth simply confused them. Falcotte resorted to avoiding the residents of Winterhold to avoid having to repeat his findings and try to explain that a simple, unambiguous answer did not exist.
However, he had reached a wall in his current investigation and decided to visit The Frozen Hearth Inn to relax for a while. He decided that he would ask some of the locals if they knew or remembered Agnia. All of the students and instructors had to spend some time in Winterhold, so some local might remember her or perhaps have talked to her about why she left the College.
It was late afternoon, and the bright sun shown in a cloudless sky. The weather along the Sea of Ghosts was mostly gray and stormy, but, even in winter, there were days when the clouds would disappear and the view was awe-inspiring. The mountains that towered up to the southeast stood out clearly in the crisp, clean air. One could clearly make out large boulders on the slopes or occasionally see wolves or foxes prowling through the brush or between rocks. Falcotte stopped, captivated by the beauty of the terrain, and stared from the stone walkway the bridged the chasm between the College and Winterhold. He stood for several minutes, just looking around and taking in the scenery. It took actual effort of will to stop looking out and continue across the walkway.
There were several locals in The Frozen Hearth, and the mood, perhaps because of the weather, was carefree and jovial. The locals looked at Falcotte when he entered but quickly returned to their own drinks and conversations. Falcotte took a seat in a corner and just watched the people go about their drinking and talking.
Haran, the woman who ran the inn along with her husband Dagur, approached and asked if wanted something to eat or drink. Falcotte had managed to save up some coin, and, since he didn't have to worry about tuition, decided he could afford a mug of ale and some hot bread and cheese.
While he waited for it to be brought out, Malur Seloth, Jarl Korir's steward entered the inn and took a seat not too far from Falcotte. The steward nodded to Falcotte as he took his seat, and Falcotte waved back. They had spoken a number of times while Falcotte investigated the Great Collapse. Falcotte didn't consider him a friend, but he knew that the steward would listen to whatever he had to say and not immediately dismiss him.
Haran brought his ale and food, and Falcotte stopped her before should could leave. "Perhaps you can help me with something?" he asked.
She stopped, giving him a look filled with suspicion and shrugging her shoulders. "I don't involve myself with College business."
"It really isn't College business. I am hoping to find out where a former student might have gone. Do you remember a Breton woman named Agnia? She left the College about ten years ago."
Haran shook her head and replied, "Not many students from the College give their names out or spend a lot of time in here. Of course, you all stop in here from time to time, but unless there is something strange or particular, you don't stick out in a memorable way." She quickly turned and went back to serving the other customers.
As Falcotte watched her walk away, he noticed that Malur was looking at him. The steward asked, "Are you looking for Agnia the Hermit, perhaps?"
"I have never heard that name, but some in the College call her Agnia the Witch. Could it be the same person?"
"Maybe. About ten years ago, Agnia approached the Jarl and asked permission to take up residence in a cave south of here. She stands out in my mind because I can't recall any other student, before you, to ask the Jarl's permission for anything.
"The cave is near an old iron mine a couple day's journey along the road. Jarl Korir gave her permission since the cave wasn't serving any other purpose.
"Actually, Jarl Korir was dumbfounded that she would make such a request, and he was the one that started calling her Agnia the Hermit.
"For a couple of years, Agnia would show up in Winterhold on occasion. I haven't seen her or heard that she'd visited in the last five or six years.
"None of us could figure out what she was doing or how she survived out there. There were never any unnatural events or problems on the road near the cave, so Jarl Korir did not concern himself with it. None of the rest of us were curious enough to bother paying her a visit."
Falcotte thought about what he knew of Agnia's disdain for people and her research on communication with the dead. He decided that it was likely that Agnia the Hermit and Agnia the Witch were the same woman.
"Thank you, steward. Perhaps, I will take a journey out to the cave and see if Agnia the Hermit is the person I seek. Hopefully, misfortune hasn't befallen her and she hasn't moved on."
Malur Seloth nodded and returned to his ale and own thoughts.
Falcotte broke off a piece of the still warm bread and took a bite. Maybe it was the pleasant weather and exquisite scenery coupled with finally getting a clue about Agnia, but Falcotte's mood was better than it had been for some weeks. The bread tasted better than any other loaf he could remember.
Falcotte savored the bread and cheese, and nursed the ale for nearly an hour. When he finished Falcotte returned to the College to prepare for the trip. He decided to start out the next morning since the weather was pleasant but could turn cold and deadly on short notice.
The good weather held, and Falcotte set off at sunrise with several days' worth of provisions. According to the steward, the cave was near the road, so Falcotte didn't anticipate having to spend a lot of time traveling through the pathless wilds, as he'd done with Skar the Hunter on the way to Ivarstead. There might even be some occasional traffic on the road in case he ended up needing assistance.
As a precaution, Falcotte discussed his plans and intentions with Urag gro-Shub. He asked the Master Librarian to send someone out if he didn't return in a reasonable amount of time. Falcotte doubted that anyone would actually be interested in finding him if he went missing, but Urag gro-Shub said he would find someone or make the journey himself.
The steward had been vague about exactly how far away the cave was or how long it would take to get there. However, since the weather was pleasant enough and the scenery was so beautiful, Falcotte did not get too concerned about it.
The first day passed without incident as Falcotte made his way south. There were occasional travelers and a carriage that passed by heading north toward Winterhold. Falcotte realized that he could have waited in Winterhold and paid for a carriage ride to the cave, but he decided that walking had been a wiser and cheaper choice.
As he walked, Falcotte soaked in the sights and sound around him. The farther he traveled from the College and Winterhold, the more his mood improved and the more his spirit and sense of adventure soared.
Falcotte made camp that night in a shallow cave not far from the road. He didn't bother with a fire for warmth since he could use the heating breeze spell and had packed a light but warm blanket. He was hungry from the unaccustomed physical exertion, but he ate sparingly. He knew he could eat his full when he got back to the College, and he didn't want to run short on food while out on the road, even if he was going to be only a couple days journey from Winterhold.
There were scattered high clouds in the sky and a blowing north wind when Falcotte woke up the following morning. The nice weather was starting to give way. Even with the weather turning colder, Falcotte's spirits were high and he felt enthusiasm for continuing the journey.
It was just after noon when Falcotte started to see signs of habitation. He passed a pile of cut logs, stacked along the side of the road. A little bit further along he spotted a rusty, broken blade of a dagger. He guessed that he must be getting close to the mine and Agnia's cave.
Falcotte rounded a bend in the road and saw an area cleared of trees and boulders with a path leading up to a cave in the rock wall. There were a number of sheds and fences in the open area and Falcotte saw what he guessed was a primitive smelter and forge. He'd reached the mine.
While he was looking at the mine compound, a man stepped out of one of the sheds and stopped suddenly. He man's hand started moving toward a mace he wore at his side, and he was staring at Falcotte.
Falcotte raised his empty hands to show the man he was not armed. Falcotte briefly considered the damage a Nord man who spent his days mining could do to his body with a mace. He waited patiently with his hands in plain view while the other man decided what he was going to do.
Eventually, the miner came down to greet him, and Falcotte was surprised to discover that he was a Breton rather than a Nord. "Welcome to the Whistling Mine, stranger," said the miner. "I am Angvid, and I work for Thorgar who owns the mine."
"Greetings, Angvid. I am Falcotte from the College of Winterhold."
"Not too many students from the College out on this road by themselves, Falcotte." It came across as more of a question than simple statement of fact.
"I am searching for a former student of the College. I was told that she might be living in a cave near this mine." Falcotte slowly approached Angvid, still keeping his hands out in the open.
"The crazy old woman is up the hill a bit. It's been a couple of weeks since we saw her wandering about, talking to herself while gathering roots and flowers."
Falcotte was excited to know that she was still alive and hadn't left the area.
"The Nords here are suspicious of her since she attended the College, but, to me, she looks like a harmless old woman who has been used up by her practice of the arcane arts. I saw too much of that sort of thing back in High Rock, and that is why I am a miner and not an occultist."
"I've seen it myself, Angvid
"Do I need to get Thorgar's permission before proceeding up to the cave?"
Angvid shook his head and pointed to a small, seldom-used path off to Falcotte's right. "Follow that path up about a mile and you can't miss the cave. Thorgar's claim only covers this mine, and he wouldn't want anything to do with dealing with the woman's visitors. Even if you weren't the first person to ever ask about her."
Falcotte nodded and replied, "Thank you for the directions, Angvid. Good fortune to you and your companions." Falcotte bowed before heading up the path.
Following the path was not a trivial matter. Falcotte frequently found himself uncertain about which way the path went, and he had to backtrack on three occasions to get back to it. Agnia obviously did not use the trail frequently.
Eventually, he reached a place where a small spring reached the surface, and a trickle of water fell into a small pool before flowing away in a small creek. Looking up from the pool, Falcotte could see the entrance to a cave. 'At least,' Falcotte thought, 'I know where she gets her drinking water.'
He knelt down and cupped his hands to get some water. As he was sipping the water, he heard rustling in the bushes off to his left and then low pitched growls.
Out of the bushes stepped a trio of wolves. The lead wolf was larger than the others, but all of them were staring intently at Falcotte. The animals looked half starved, and their coats were mangy and matted. The leader was baring his teeth and snapping at Falcotte. It was only about 40 feet from Falcotte. There was no way he could run from the wolves and live to see the next morning, and if all three attacked at once, Falcotte knew he would probably not survive.
As soon as the lead wolf started to bare its teeth, Falcotte held out his right arm with the palm facing the wolf. He started an incantation and hoped that he had enough time to complete it. The lead wolf leapt forward, alone thankfully, just as Falcotte finished the spell. A jet of flame erupted from his palm and engulfed the charging wolf.
The wolf's eyes exploded as the liquid in them heated to boiling, and its coat caught fire and was reduced to smoking ash.
Falcotte stepped aside as the animal careened past him and collapsed in the center of the path, dead.
The other wolves were looking at Falcotte and their fallen leader. Falcotte sent another blast of flame aimed at them. That was too much for the remaining wolves; they let out yelps and retreated into the bushes.
Falcotte stared after the retreating wolves to make certain they were truly retreating and then back at the dead wolf on the trail. He knew that he was fortunate that only one of the animals had attacked. While he pondered his good fortune, Falcotte turned his attention up toward the cave entrance and was startled to see a woman looking down at him.
She was of indeterminate age and looked every bit as starved and mangy as the wolves. Her clothes were little better than rags that hung in tatters from her skeletal frame. Even from where he stood, though, Falcotte could see a wild look in her eyes.
"Are you Agnia," he finally called out.
The woman didn't reply. Instead, she turned and retreated into the cave. Not knowing what else to do, Falcotte climbed the rest of the way up to cave and followed her into the darkness.
The air grew thicker and hotter the farther Falcotte went into the cave. There was an unpleasant odor in the air that Falcotte couldn't identify, but it burned his nose and throat and made his eyes sting and water. Falcotte started to wonder if talking to Agnia was really worth the effort and discomfort.
Abruptly, the camped cave opened up into a large cavern. The air was cooler and somewhat fresher. Agnia was sitting on the floor on the far side of chamber, seemingly waiting for him. Falcotte crossed the cavern and took a seat a few feet in front of her.
She spoke before he could say anything. "The spirits told me that you were coming."
"Did they tell you why I wanted to find you?" Falcotte wasn't surprised that Agnia had forewarning of his visit.
"They whispered about the Great Collapse and Delos Velothi, so I can guess what you are looking for."
"So Delos Velothi is the Dunmer the spirit cursed?"
"Delos' spirit is holding the spirits of the dead Nords and is poisoning the thoughts and dreams of the living in Winterhold and the College."
Falcotte was amazed at how open Agnia was being with him. He had been expecting riddles and puzzles for answers from her, but she wasn't making any effort to trick or confuse him.
"You are being very clear and honest. You are very different from the instructors at the College."
"The spirits have told me what you needed to know. Who am I to argue with them or to make up riddles for you when they have given such a clear message?
"The instructors and students at the College are mostly fools pursuing knowledge and power they can only partially understand and control."
"Even Phinis Gestor?"
"Oh he knows better than most and pursues it anyway. He is a bigger fool than all the rest."
"Is this why you left the College?"
"My reasons for leaving are of concern only to me, and I feel no need to share them with you. I am only talking to you now because the spirits want you to know some things They have guided you to me so that I can direct you to the one who can free them."
"The spirits guided me? I learned your whereabouts from Jarl Korir's steward."
"Who do you think brought him across your path? There are no coincidences."
"Who is this person that I must seek out in order to free the spirits?"
"Go to the Gray Quarter in Windhelm and find Milynea Velothi."
"Milynea Velothi? Is she related to Delos Velothi?"
"His wife."
"How can she help free the spirits?"
"That was not revealed to me."
"Sigurd Stoneway's spirit said that releasing the spirits of the Nords might cause the collapse of the College and remainder of Winterhold. Will it?"
"Perhaps. The spirits have not revealed that to me. However, what loss would it be? Winterhold is but a shadow of its former self, and the world would be a better place without the College."
Falcotte looked around the cavern and at Agnia's bedraggled appearance. He contrasted that with the comfort and rather majestic appearance of the College grounds and people that studied there. He considered the relative abundance of food available in Winterhold and at the College. Agnia was not eating so well, probably subsisting on roots, berries, and the many species of fungus found in Skyrim.
"It doesn't look like you are doing so well out here in this cave, Agnia."
"What do I care about my appearance or what I eat? I commune with the spirits who whisper to me about hidden and powerful things."
"I will have to consider what this all means for me, the College, and the people of Winterhold."
"The spirits say that you will get a sign about the path you are to follow."
Agnia got to her feet and pointed back toward the cavern entrance. "I have told you all that the spirits have told me you need to know. Now, leave me in peace."
Falcotte stood up and bowed. "Thank you for relating the message from the spirits, Agnia," he replied.
"Don't thank me. I am just doing their bidding and wouldn't even have looked upon you of my own choice."
Falcotte nodded, turned and made his way back out into the open air as quickly as he could.
It was getting on toward late afternoon when Falcotte got back down to the road, and he decided to spend the night near the mine compound and start his return the following morning. Angvid pointed out an out of the way corner where Falcotte could set up camp for the night.
The Nord miners ignored him and did not approach his camp. Angvid had probably told them about Falcotte's intention to visit Agnia. What honest Nord would want to associate with someone who visits a crazy Breton woman who lives alone in a cave in the middle of nowhere? No good could ever come from such meetings, so it was best not to get involved with such people.
The weather did not get worse overnight, as Falcotte feared it might, and he started back toward Winterhold shortly after sunrise. As he walked, he considered what he should tell the Arch Mage and Jarl Korir. Phinis said to consult with people that were more knowledgeable before taking drastic steps. He also considered Agnia's disdain for the people of both Winterhold and the College and how she relied instead on communications with the dead and who knew what else. Could she be trying to trick him into destroying the remainder of Winterhold and the College?
A couple of hours into the journey, Falcotte was lost in thought when he became aware of the sounds of an approaching wagon. He stepped off the road and waited. The sound came from one of the passenger carriages that transported people and goods between the hold capitals. It was coming from Winterhold. The wagon was nearly past him when a voice called out.
"Stop. Wait."
The carriage stopped and Falcotte saw that the speaker was Ilmeni Nelas from the College.
"What are you doing out on the road alone, Falcotte? There are easier ways to commit suicide."
Falcotte shrugged and half-jokingly replied, "The search for the truth requires personal risk at times." Actually, he appreciated the tone of concern in Ilmeni's voice.
"Don't be a fool," she replied. "No one should be traveling out here alone. Climb into the wagon."
Falcotte looked at her then the wagon and said, 'But it looks like we are going in opposite directions. Where are you heading?"
"I am visiting my uncle who lives in the Gray Quarter of Windhelm. It is days out of your way if you are in a hurry to return to the College, but travelling by carriage with a companion is safer, even if takes longer."
"The Gray Quarter?" he asked. He remembered Agnia's comment about a sign; surely, this was it. He didn't even know where the Gray Quarter was located, and here was a ready guide with relatively safe transportation.
"I do not have coin to pay for transport, Ilmeni. I thank you though for the offer to travel with you."
"I chartered this carriage for private transport and can take along anyone I choose."
Falcotte couldn't turn down the offer of free transport. He could decide what course to take after talking to Milynea and seeing what steps needed to be taken to free the trapped Nord spirits. Phinis would probably berate him for acting on his own, but how would he be able to get counsel from Phinis or the Arch Mage and then make it safely back to Windhelm on his own? He made up his mind to accept Ilmeni's offer.
"In that case, I accept your offer. How long do you plan on staying in Windhelm?"
"I must discuss some family business with my uncle, and that will take at least a day. At most, it will take two days, and then I shall immediately return to the College. Can you keep busy in Windhelm for two days?"
Falcotte said that he could and climbed aboard the carriage.
The journey took four days and during that time, Falcotte and Ilmeni exchanged family histories and thoughts about life at the College. Falcotte did not let on that he had a purpose for going to Windhelm, but he did question Ilmeni about Dunmer views on their departed ancestors, death in general, and the afterlife.
Ilmeni's arrogance never entirely disappeared, but Falcotte was well aware of her talent in the arcane arts and decided that she deserved to show some arrogance. While she never apologized for mocking his spell, Ilmeni did admit that the air in her room was easier to breath, and the warmth of the spell was more pleasant and better distributed than the heat of the brazier.
"Have you ever spent time in Windhelm, Falcotte?" Ilmeni asked as they climbed off the carriage at the Windhelm Stables. They had finally arrived.
"I was on a carriage which stopped here long enough to drop off passengers and change drivers. I have never spent time in the city though."
"This is a Stormcloak stronghold, so if you have Imperial sympathies, you had better keep them to yourself. Also, don't ask any of the Nords about the Gray Quarter, find one of the Dunmer if you can or anyone except a Nord if you can't find a Dunmer.
"As a matter of fact, follow me and I will take you to New Gnisis Cornerclub. That is where we will meet when I finish my business with my uncle."
Falcotte quickly related the tale of his encounter with the Stormcloak recruiters in Winterhold.
"Pray you don't see them here. No one will protect you, and if you somehow start to get the upper hand in a battle with them, the other Nords are likely to join in the attack against you."
Falcotte and Ilmeni crossed the long bridge and walkway between the stables and city gate. As they approached the gate, the guards took notice of them and stepped up to block the open gate.
"What is your business in Windhelm?" one of them asked.
"We traveled from Winterhold to deliver a message to my uncle Helik Nelas in the Gray Quarter," replied Ilmeni. Falcotte noticed that the tone and volume of her voice were softer and less abrasive than normal. She did not sound cowed or subdued, but she was making an effort to avoid coming across as threatening.
The guard looked them over. He wasn't wearing the colors or devices of the Stormcloaks, but Falcotte thought that he was probably at least a sympathizer. Maybe he actually fought alongside the Stormcloaks but donned different clothes when on duty as a city guard.
"And what is your business here? Surely Helik Nelas is not a relation of yours." The guard was staring at Falcotte.
Falcotte considered telling a lie but quickly realized that the truth would sound implausible enough. "I am from the College of Winterhold, and I came here to search for Milynea Velothi. Her husband was an instructor at the College years ago, and I was hoping that she could tell me something about him."
At the mention of the College of Winterhold, the guard stepped back and his hand reflexively went to his sword hilt. "You will do well to keep your foul magic to yourself while you are here, mage."
He looked them over again and stepped aside. "Don't cause any trouble here in Windhelm. The city guards are in no mood to coddle lawbreakers. If you are taken in, you will be tossed into a cell and likely ignored until you die of starvation." He indicated that Falcotte and Ilmeni could enter the city.
After they got well past the gate, Ilmeni turned to Falcotte and asked, "What was that? I can't believe the guard bought that story and let you into the city."
Falcotte shrugged and replied, "I might just look her up since I am here."
"Were you telling the truth about a Milynea Velothi?"
Falcotte explained his research into the Great Collapse and that Delos Velothi's wife and son had relocated to Windhelm after his death. He didn't talk about the trapped spirits or his visit with Agnia though.
"It is just something that interests me," Falcotte said in conclusion.
They continued through Windhelm. The city was much larger and better constructed and maintained than Winterhold. The buildings were constructed of stone and heavy timbers. There were a few noticeable instances of broken or missing stonework or cracked beams, but they were rare.
There were also many more people moving about the city. Where the people of Winterhold seemed rather dispirited or lost, the residents of Windhelm had direction and purpose. There was a general atmosphere of enthusiasm and even joy in Windhelm, while enthusiasm and joy were in short supply in Winterhold.
The majority of the inhabitants were Nords, but there was a sizable number of Dunmer. Falcotte spotted a handful of Bretons and Redguards, but he didn't see any Orsimer, Argonians or Khajiit. Moving throughout the various groups of Nords were Stormcloak warriors. Falcotte avoided them as best he could, and Ilmeni seemed to do her best to avoid being noticed by anyone.
Falcotte noticed that Ilmeni cringed and shrank away slightly when any Nord male passed by her. At first, he thought he was imagining it, but after witnessing several instances of the behavior, Falcotte knew it wasn't his imagination. It couldn't be real fear, he thought. Ilmeni could reduce any attacker to smoking ashes without the slightest effort, so it had to be something else.
After the tenth episode, Falcotte asked, "Why the act?"
Ilmeni looked at him and scowled. "Because these fools expect it, and it makes them feel virile."
"But none of them could really hurt you before you could torch them or freeze their blood solid."
"And how long do you imagine I would live after committing such an act, even in self-defense? I would have a dozen other men on me at once. Even if they turned me over to the city authorities instead of killing me outright, I would not get a fair hearing from any magistrate.
"Better to act this way and let them wallow in their illusion of strength and power."
They were getting near the Gray Quarter. The number of Dunmer in the streets increased and the number of Nords decreased. The quality of building material and construction was markedly inferior in the Quarter. The faces of the Dunmer passing on the street were stony and hostile. There was a very different spirit in the air in the Gray Quarter than what he had experienced walking through the other parts of the city. Falcotte decided that he wouldn't want to be wandering these streets alone after dark.
Ilmeni paused and took a deep breath after reaching New Gnisis Cornerclub.
"I always worry about making it from the gate to here," she said as she pulled open the door and stepped inside.
Ilmeni quickly spotted her uncle at a table in the rear of the room and greeted him warmly. She introduced Falcotte as a fellow student from the College and then pointed at the bar.
"Check with Ambarys Rendar to see if he knows where to find the woman you seek. If he doesn't know her, he will know someone who does. Be back here tomorrow at noon. If I am finished, I will be here waiting for you. If I am not here, come back at sunrise the day after tomorrow and I will be waiting."
Ilmeni didn't wait to see if Falcotte had questions or understood her instructions. She turned back to her uncle and began talking to him in the Dunmer language.
Falcotte approached Ambarys Rendar who looked at him with suspicion. When Falcotte reached the bar counter Ambarys finished drying a mug before saying, "Not many humans come in here. At least you are not a Nord.
"How do you think I can help you?"
"I am searching for a woman named Milynea Velothi, and I was told that she lived in Windhelm."
"What is your business with Milynea?"
"So she is still here? Her husband was an instructor at the College of Winterhold before his death during the Great Collapse.
"I am a historian and would like to talk with her about her husband and the College."
Ambarys shook his head and grinned, "Good luck with that, friend. She works at Sadri's down the road a bit."
Falcotte thanked Ambarys and stepped back out into the street. He felt exposed and vulnerable without Ilmeni beside him. The passing Dunmer looked at him with suspicion and open hostility. He hadn't noticed a sign for Sadri's as they arrived, so he continued down the street away from New Gnisis. It wasn't long before he spotted the sign, 'Sadri's Used Wares'.
When Falcotte stepped inside, the five Dunmer in the store stopped talking and stared at him.
"Lost, friend?" asked a male Dunmer behind the counter.
"Ambarys Rendar said that I might find Milynea Velothi here." Falcotte tried to sound confident, but he didn't think he was doing a very good job.
"Did he now?" said a woman in the back of the store. "That would be me, but I don't know you and will be talking to Ambarys about freely telling strangers where to find me.
"What do you want with me?"
Falcotte stepped over closer to Milynea and said, "I am a historian at the College of Winterhold, and I wanted to talk to you about Delos and his death during the Great Collapse."
Milynea's face didn't show reaction or emotion, but Falcotte could see her shoulders get tense and her fists clench. With some effort, she regained her composure and relaxed.
"Let's get this over with so you can leave me in peace, human. Who told you where to find me?"
Falcotte knew that trying to hide or talk around the source of his knowledge would not work. He opted for complete honesty instead.
"Agnia, called 'the Witch' by some and 'the Hermit' by others told me where you were. She claimed that the spirits of the Nords killed in the Great Collapse told her where you were."
"And why were you asking Agnia about me?"
"I wanted to know why those spirits were cursing your husband after he had tried to save Winterhold and the College."
"You are not a simple historian."
Falcotte shrugged. "I study history, among other topics at the College.
"Do you know why Delos' spirit would hold the Nord spirits and not let them move on?"
"Because I asked him to do it." Milynea looked Falcotte straight in the eye as if she were daring him to ask the next question.
"Why would you do that?" Falcotte started to think that the meeting was not going to end well.
Milynea pointed to a Dunmer sitting at a table behind her. "That is my son Yakin. Shortly after we arrived here in Windhelm, a gang of Nord boys attacked him. During the beating, they smashed his head on stone in the road. He hasn't said a word since then.
"For eighty years I have tended him and looked after him. Never in that time has he shown the least sign that he recognized me as his mother.
"After the attack, I prayed that Delos would exact revenge."
Falcotte's heart sank and he felt sorrow for the obvious pain and suffering felt by Milynea. He couldn't imagine how horrible it would be to live with a child that didn't recognize you. How could he even ask for her help?
"When will the debt be paid in full? When will you ask Delos to stop holding the Nord spirits?"
"When my spirit departs this body I will join with Delos, and we will remain until Yakin's spirit joins us. Only at that time will the debt be fulfilled and the curse lifted."
Falcotte closed his eyes in defeat. How many decades or even centuries would pass before both Milynea and Yakin passed from this life?
"Is there anything that could make you relent?"
She gave a bitter laugh and shook her head. "I would make it worse if I could, human. Perhaps the curse will grow more potent when my spirit joins Delos."
"And the children of the Nords who weren't even alive when Delos passed? Why must they pay the price?"
"Don't ask me to feel sorrow or pity for the lives and children of the Nords. You know my story and can see Yakin for yourself. Look around the Quarter where we live and ask yourself if the Nords care a bit about us."
"Why not move on and leave this land and all of the painful memories behind? Why not search for healing instead of revenge?"
"Because revenge gives me purpose and some amount of joy."
Falcotte knew that it was useless to try further, so he bowed to Milynea. A part of him could not fault her for wanting to exact revenge for the death of her husband and attack on her son.
"I wish peace and rest for the spirit of Delos and healing and joy for you and Yakin."
She shook her head and replied, "Many years will pass before we have those things."
Falcotte bowed again to Milynea and left the store. He wandered back into the Nord portions of the city to look for a quiet, protected place to pass the time until Ilmeni was ready to return to Winterhold.