Katja looked into the full-length mirror and her mouth fell open. By the Divines, she looked like a queen! Maybe she should dump Anders and Wyll and start looking for a prince to marry, she thought facetiously. The gown was of a shimmering silk fabric, a deep blue like the sky at the height of summer, and brought out the blue of her eyes (which were mostly a deep gray) while perfectly setting off her long red hair. The cut gave the illusion of being risqué, while actually covering her from neck to ankle. Frothy white lace peeked out from slits in the full skirt on either side, and her generous cleavage protruded above the bodice but was screened by sheer netting studded with glittering crystals. They were not real diamonds, she'd been informed – but for how much the dress had cost they might as well be.
Mina, Anja, and Rezira were clustered around her like ladies in waiting, oohing and aahing at the magnificence of her gown. They were next to get their own gowns fitted, each of them except Anja's custom-made. She had been fortunate to find a lovely (and reasonably priced; her thrill at attending the Imperial Ball had not erased her ingrained frugality, despite their huge score in Sindalo) gown on the shop's ready-made rack that flattered her tall, slim and muscular body while giving her a feminine air seldom seen on the young warrior woman since she had first taken up a bow at the age of six.
Rezira's petite form was given the appearance of extra height by a slim-skirted floor-length sheath in a deep purple shade, the bodice plunging to reveal her bosom – more ample than usual for a woman of the mer races. She had a pair of high-heeled sandals giving her another three inches, and a choker necklace of sparking amethysts picked up the color of the dress – and of her eyes. She'd decided to let her mane of glossy black hair cascade down over her shoulders. Seeing those shoes reminded Katja of the red heels she'd worn to her wedding, all those years ago, and brought an internal sigh. She could have used a little extra height too, but had decided in favor of practicality and was wearing a pair of flat-soled velvet slippers instead.
Last to be fitted was Mina – and she outshone them all. Her gown was similar in cut to Rezira's, a slim floor-length sheath slit up the rear to allow leg movement. It was glistening cloth-of-gold lined with silk for comfort, and the bodice was cut more modestly – while the back plunged low. A full overskirt made of the golden netting studded with glittering crystals softened the lines of the dress and rustled as she turned from side to side, admiring herself in the mirror.
Katja embraced her daughter carefully. "Oh, Mina!" she sighed, "you truly look like a goddess! Wait until that boyfriend of yours sees you in it – you're going to have to carry a handkerchief to blot up the drool…" My boyfriend, Mina thought, with a twinge. Dovi was her first love, and had been her boyfriend for more than a year. He thought they were going to get married and start a life together, probably as soon as she turned 16. Did her desire to know more of the world before getting tied down mean that she didn't truly love him, didn't share his dreams? And what, really, were her feelings for Flavius? He was handsome, charming, rich, and a member of one of the empire's most prominent families – plus he was smitten with her. But could she love him?
In his private study at the family's townhouse in the Talos Plaza District Count Enzo Terentius sat working on some correspondence. He much preferred staying in Imperial City over life in Bravil, but being Count was not a job he could entirely ignore. His steward managed things for him while he and the rest of the family were staying here, but there were many issues he had to address personally – if only by mail.
He heard a tap at the open door and looked up to see his second son standing there with a smile and an inquiring look. All three of his boys looked so much like their dead mother, it gave him a pang. "Papa, do you have a moment?" Flavius asked politely. Enzo set the letter aside. He was always happy to make time for his boys – even if two of them must really now be accounted men. "Come in, Flavius," he said, and gestured to a chair that stood on the other side of his writing desk.
Flavius, in contrast to his usual glib charm, seemed to be having trouble finding words. "Uh, Papa, now that I'm 18 and all… Well, Arturus already has a betrothal and he's the heir to the county throne but I'm just the second son…" Enzo's eyebrows rose. "You've been squiring the Dragonspring girl," he stated. It was hardly a secret, and more than one person had remarked on it to him as well. Flavius' eyes lit. "Yes!" he said enthusiastically, "Mina! Papa, she is the most beautiful girl I've ever met, well-connected, and would give our family ties to Skyrim. I want your permission to ask her to marry me!"
Oh dear, Enzo thought. He should have seen this coming. Flavius, with his looks and his suave personality, had cut a swath through the maidens of Imperial City. But sooner or later one of them was going to get to him, and he was a good-hearted young man. How to discourage him, without breaking his heart or causing a rift between them? Later, of course, it wouldn't matter – but for now, he could not have his family involved with the Dragonsprings of Skyrim.
Observing his father's expression, Flavius was getting a sinking sensation. Finally Enzo, an expression of concerned sympathy on his face, spoke. "She is a lovely young woman, I know," he said. "Though very young, of course. But I'm afraid that marriage with her is out of the question. There is a taint in her family's blood, a taint that would be passed to our own family if you were to ally with her."
Flavius' face took on a look of outrage. "But Mina doesn't have the dragon blood!" he exclaimed. "Her father is a pure, completely unmagical Nord. Her mother had the dragon blood, without which I suppose I would never have been born since the entire planet would have been destroyed by the World Eater! But the dragon blood didn't pass to all of her children (two out of the three who were born human, he realized, plus there were the other dozen-plus who'd actually been born dragons… best not to bring that up). Our children would be free of any eldritch taint."
Enzo sighed. "It's not the actual dragon blood that is at issue, son. It's society's perceptions. When Mina's brothers go around turning into dragons it frightens a lot of people, and people will talk. If you married her, your bride would never quite be admitted to society. She would be seen as a freak, as would you for marrying her – and everyone would be watching your children to see if they were going to sprout wings. I'm sorry, deeply sorry. Love her if you will, enjoy her while you can – but there can be no marriage with her."
He pulled the piece of correspondence he'd been studying to him again, eyes dropping to the page, by way of dismissal. Enzo's heart ached for his beautiful son and the sad fate of his first deep love – but there was no help for it. Such a marriage simply could not be.
Flavius rose to his feet, face pale, quivering slightly with helpless anger. He was a member of the aristocracy, and he had known all his life that he might not get to choose the woman he married. Look at poor Arturus, and his betrothal to that girl in Anvil. Her father had been the brother of the count, actually, neither an ogre nor a minotaur; yet there was no doubt her beauty left much to be desired.
But he loved Mina so! Given enough time he supposed he might have coaxed her into his bed, as he had several daughters of the lesser nobility here in Imperial City. But he didn't want to make her his mistress, and he doubted either she or her parents would be happy with such a role for her. He wanted her to be his wife, but how could he convince Father that such a match would be desirable? Maybe if Anders and his team at Arcane University managed to succeed in their dynamo core project, the Dragonsprings would be lauded by the emperor and society's opinion of the family would change? It was his only hope.
Draco, Felix, and Titus were once again in their guise of street beggars, roaming the narrow alleys of the Harbor District and exploring. They'd all paid their initiation fee to the Guild out of the cache of gold Sigi had taken from the loot of Sindalo. That he might have that money for himself had been okayed by Anja and Lars, who were keeping all the rest of the cash to help fund their retirement from their careers as adventurers.
Likely the two would still explore a tomb or take out a nest of bandits from time to time just for fun, as Sigi's own parents had done rarely since he had been born – unless childbearing intervened. But with the huge riches to be realized by the sale of Sindalo's treasures, they could settle down with a comfortable house in Whiterun and enjoy life, free for a few years at least from the necessity to make a living.
Each of the participants in the Sindalo excursion who had not already claimed something chose a small item out of the pile of loot as a keepsake of the adventure after they'd returned to Imperial City and dumped out their packs on the dining table at Temple House. But Sigi had little use for jewelry or other trinkets – and with the gold they could buy their way into the Beggars' Guild without having to explain why they were asking for the money.
It was all just a game to them, of course – three boys from wealthy families who were fascinated by the shadowy underworld and wanted to see how the other half lived. They had made no effort yet to find themselves begging spots – most of the good ones were already taken and would only be freed up by the death of the Guild beggars who had held them for years. And who wanted to stand around all day asking passersby for alms, anyway?
Now, Vari was wishing that they had found three Rings of Chameleon instead of just the one. Itf would be so much fun if all three of them could become invisible, stealing quietly around the city and eavesdropping on the secret conversations of the thieves, assassins, and other plotters! Why, they might even manage to foil some heinous plot, and be lauded for their efforts! Instead they were engaged in more ordinary mischief, two of them watching while the third, wearing the ring, sneaked up and teased people – dropping a coin "out of thin air" into a beggar's hat, tapping people on the shoulder as they strode down the street, and so forth.
Sigi removed the ring from his finger and reappeared in the midst of his companions, his arms laden with apples from the cart of the street vendor across the way. He grinned slyly and passed one each to Vari and Titus, then sank his teeth into the third. He didn't tell them that he'd left payment on the cart. They walked off together, munching their treats. Somehow, "stolen" fruit tasted much better than the regular kind.
"So are you going to be at the Imperial Ball on Loredas?" Vari asked Titus. The boy's handsome face fell, before lighting again at the thought of the enhanced opportunities for mischief. "Yeah, my father's dragging all three of us there with him. I think everyone in Cyrodiil who is anyone will be there. You, too?"
The Dragonspring boys grinned ruefully. Getting scrubbed up and into fancy clothes they were forbidden to ruin was a burden; and being forced to converse with snobby strangers who would patronize them and say stupid things, a positive torment. But they reasoned that, as at the party where they'd met Titus last week, they would soon be able to make their escape. "We'll meet you by where the musicians are playing as soon as we get there," Vari promised. "Visiting the Imperial Palace might be lot of fun."
Anders, Gylabris, Andi and Rezira were gathered in the basement lab at the Chironasium with Sextus, Aphinea, and Louis clustered around the other side of the workbench on which one of their prototype dynamo cores sat. Its design was clean and simple, so that it didn't look quite the same as one of the Dwemer originals. Ornamentation could wait, until they had solved the problems connected with making it work. And once they began manufacturing them, most would be hidden away inside the machines they were intended to power. Why bother with decoration, increasing the time and money needed for making them?
They had performed the spell forging this one's link to its power source three days ago, and it was still glowing red inside – the inner cage still turning. Presumably, they could have slipped this into a Dwarven Centurion – or perhaps, that refrigeration box Gylabris had devised with help from Jerzha in Markarth – and it would continually supply the needed power for operation.
"I'm really convinced this one is right," Anders said, gesturing to the glowing Core on the table. "Now we need to test our theory by bringing another one online using the same spell." "It's my theory, Gylabris said," that quite possibly every dynamo core on Nirn is connected to the same other-plane star for its power source. Whether we have tapped into that particular star, or another one in the same plane of existence, I can't be sure. But stars are huge beyond belief, many thousands of times bigger than our planet, and they burn for billions of years. It should be possible for even a medium-sized star to power millions of dynamo cores without harming it or affecting its output of energy."
"Ah, but it's an issue of the precise location of that energy conduit, that minute portal through to the other plane and the star within it," Sextus said. "It may be necessary to record the exact positioning of the conduit for every core, and every one may need to be different from the last. Else a new portal may merely steal the energy from another one."
"I can't say for certain," Rezira admitted. "No one in my own city of Mrzhandtham, at least, had the making of dynamo cores. We used the ones we had had for thousands of years, as they never wore out, and if any among my people knew the full secret of their construction it was not knowledge revealed to the general public. Our culture had become stagnant, I fear, with all of us smug in our 'Paradise' and convinced that there was nothing left to learn, no progress worth the trouble of achieving it."
"Well, we can only try it and see what happens," Anders said with a sigh. He was enjoying their trip to Cyrodiil, but beginning to think fondly of his home and of the other projects he'd left behind at the College. He missed Meri, missed the other kids, missed his parents. Kat's rejuvenation of Francois and Christine had made it possible for him to enjoy the relationship with them, as fellow adults, that he'd feared he would never get a chance to have. He hoped their team would soon have success here, and could return to Skyrim.
Anders had a broader grasp of all schools of magic, and a greater fund of magicka at his command, than almost any other mage in Tamriel. Yet even he needed a collection of enchanted items and a magicka-enhancing potion to cast this spell with comfort. It was a variation of the magic that had been used to create the magical portals by which one traveled between floors of the University's Arch-Mage's Tower.
It was also akin to the spellcraft that had been used two centuries before to open enduring portals to various planes of Oblivion here in Cyrodiil. All of those had fallen when Martin Septim, in dragon form as the avatar of Akatosh, had defeated the Daedric prince Mehrunes Dagon. Yet the tiny portals within each of the Dwemer's Centurion Dynamo Cores had stayed open for eons.
Andi watched eagerly as his father cast the spell. He knew it now, after watching it cast several times; but it would require a huge supply of extra magicka for him to be able to cast it himself. As the spell took hold, the new dynamo core sitting on the table – the object of the spell – glowed red and its interior began to spin. As it did so the light of the one beside it, which had been glowing continually for days, winked out – and the motion inside it ceased.
Anders sagged. The spell had taken nearly everything he had, and it now seemed certain that Sextus' theory was correct. You could not use the same spell to produce one dynamo core after another – each one must be recorded and calibrated, with a slight offset of the location of the far end of the portal for the next one so that each tapped into an energy locus that was not already in use.
Anders had pioneered the fine-tuning of spellcraft in his generation, an art that might possibly have existed in some forgotten time and been rediscovered by him – or perhaps something he and he alone had stumbled on. His ability to control the precise target, size, and intensity of Destruction magic, interweaving two different sorts of spells like Fire and Lightning, had enabled him to use Destruction magic for such practical purposes as cutting metal, welding pipes, and cooling beverages. His wife, Katja, had extended what he had learned to Restoration magic, and been able to re-knit connections within the human brain to bring his father Francois back to his former self after a decade as an invalid following a crippling stroke.
So, Anders was convinced that it would require only a little more research before they cracked this final obstacle. The attempt had tired him, and he felt the need of some rest and recuperation (and time to think it over) before they began again. "Sextus, I think you hit the nail on the head!" he said. "We just need to figure out how to pinpoint the exact geographical location on the sphere of our other-plane sun that was accessed by our basic spell, then adjust it so that a nearby but not identical location is connected to the next core. And so on."
Sextus nodded, pleased. They had made amazing progress in the short time that Anders and his team had been here, completely justifying the expense of putting them all up. They'd all be millionaires, if they managed to put the Cores into production – and the Imperial government, sponsor of their research, would benefit immensely from a monopoly on their sale. "That's going to make manufacturing them a little more difficult," he said, "but once we work out the math we should be able to adjust the spell almost automatically. We're almost there!"
Anders smiled tiredly at his colleague's gleeful enthusiasm. "I suppose you're all going to attend the Imperial Ball tomorrow evening?" he asked, and there were nods from Sextus and his University teammates. "I suggest we adjourn until Morndas, then. We'll see you all at the Ball, and then have Sundas to consider the best way to adjust the spell so that each core has its own unique connection to the star that's powering them all. Are we in agreement?" A quiet cheer went up from those assembled.