2
Boethiah found Peryite scrutinizing some yellowed pages over a ratty desk in the middle of the swamp-like area it called 'the gardens'. Padomay knew this whole plane of Oblivion could use some tidying-up, but to call that mossy, wet folly a garden was stretching language further than one should.
"Peryite," Boethiah called. The other prince raised its delicate dragon head and regarded her from over its shoulder.
"Boethiah," it acknowledged. "You seldom visit my gardens. Whatever do I owe the honour to?"
"I have come to extend a proposal to you," said Boethiah, all too conscious of the filth that was clinging to her cape.
"Indeed," said Peryite, turning its long, slender neck to the papers again.
"This might actually interest you. Could we go inside and discuss it?"
"I am busy," said Peryite. It was clearly more interested in whatever the papers said.
"What are you reading?" asked Boethiah.
Peryite turned completely then. It had the unmistakable head of a dragon, certainly, yet it was the least menacing-looking dragon Boethiah could conceive. Peryite was slender, which made it appear taller than it really was. Its long, clawed fingers were almost birdlike in their delicacy, and it lacked wings altogether. If not for its long tail and neck, it would look much like an argonian, only taller. As it was, it could be described as a biped lizard.
"If you must know, a mortal follower of mine has turned up with most unexpected results from a long-running investigation and I am very much interested in figuring out how to use this to my advantage. Your presence here now is not… particularly opportune."
"I see," said Boethiah sourly. She hated to be dismissed. Wishing she had gone to Meridia or Sanguine instead, she continued: "What I will tell you may help you benefit from these… findings."
"Will it now."
"Yes. It concerns a show of abilities."
Peryite crossed its arms.
"I am not interested in your trifling with Molag Bal, Boethiah."
"Perhaps I should not waste my time with you," she countered angrily. "I should have let Dagon tell you himself. Maybe you would have listened to him, if nothing else, because he is taller than you."
They stared into one another's eyes for several seconds.
"Very well," conceded Peryite at last, snorting disdainfully. "Follow me."
Boethiah was angry, but followed Peryite anyway, grimacing as they crossed greenish muddy waters towards Peryite's home. As houses went, it was no better than the garden. Climbing the rotten steps, Boethiah wondered if Peryite thought of the structure as a castle like most daedric lords did with their residences.
The house was built over and with the aid of several trees, their branches intertwining to form walls, floors and roofs. It stank of mould and rotting wood. From the outside, it looked like a big forest that had somehow been collapsed into a single tangled mass. From the inside, it was little more than a wooden, mossy, humid maze of branches. Fungi grew everywhere.
Peryite guided Boethiah through several passages to a bigger chamber opened to the bare swamp ground. Some light filtered through the branches that acted as roof. At least the ground here was not as wet, thought Boethiah. Peryite signalled for her to occupy one of the tree-trunks that were laid in the room. It sat in front of her and crossed its arms again, waiting.
Boethiah cleared her throat and decided to be straightforward.
"I want to hold a Tournament. I already spoke with Dagon and he agrees. We are thinking of something yet unheard of. I want not only mortals killing one another, but also for us princes to participate, in a way. I propose that we each select a champion and bestow them with one of our artefacts, then we have them all battle to the death until there is one last surviving winner. As a prince, if you agree to the Tournament, you would tend to the selecting and informing your champion, train them if you will."
Peryite was silent.
"You said a follower of yours came up with some discovery. I am sure you should be able to manage a worthy champion."
"You are not," hissed Peryite resentfully. "You think me a fool? I know you consider me to be below the rest of you."
Boethiah opened her mouth to speak, saw Peryite bare its long sharp teeth in warning and cleared her throat instead.
"Listen, we― I know we have undermined your position, but it is as true as the fact that you spend most of your time holed up in this muddy plane, devising illnesses and pests and not even deigning to attend our meetings."
"I have attended some," Peryite said, but it sounded less sullen now, sad even. "You are not entirely wrong."
"This could be an opportunity for you," continued Boethiah, seizing Peryite's softening. "If you have a worthy champion, you could prove us all wrong. You could even win―" she said this last bit only to give Peryite additional impulse. She was sure her champion was unbeatable.
"I will consider it," said Peryite.
Boethiah knew that was as good an answer as she would get. She quickly stood.
"I will be leaving, then. Do attend our next meeting, if you decide you will participate."
After Boethiah had disappeared, Peryite began navigating the labyrinth of its house in search of Spellbreaker.