Memory One-Hundred and Thirty-Five: (Aem'uvus)
Aem'uvus spent the next years peacefully in his home realm, and as he grew so too did his beauty. Childish, hopeful eyes became wise and experienced, his face angular, cheekbones padded out with flesh that softened what would otherwise be a harsh countenance. Though his shoulders had broadened, he had retained a svelte figure and carried himself well. When he moved, he did so as a dancer, graceful and almost silent, while when he spoke it seemed as if the whole room hushed to hear him.
"…in addition," he announced to the packed Loqutorium, "following an incident with a group of aides – of which no names shall be mentioned – the transmutation station has been moved to a workshop to undergo extensive repairs. I understand that a number of ongoing projects require its use, so I have temporarily replaced it with my own. Please be aware that this is a more powerful version and will react violently to haphazard mistakes. I have pinned a non-exhaustive list of examples to the door; familiarise yourself with it before using the device."
His audience sat enraptured, and he did not notice the sometimes-prurient stares he received, the smiles of the brave nor the reverence of the enthralled. He did not pace the stage as his father often did, but Aem'uvus commanded it with his head held high and his hands behind his straight back.
"I remind you all that I will be delivering a lecture tomorrow discussing the more complex points of my paper, The Mathematical Conundrums of Known Inchoate Planes. It should also be noted that the first volume of my and my father's collaborative essay, The Dawn Era: A Time Before Time, has been released to the Archivox, with the remaining four volumes soon to follow. The Basilica's factotums have been updated with a complete schedule."
Aem'uvus swept his gaze through the crowd. He wore conservative clothes; dark brown leather tunics with arm cops, a red tartan shirt underneath, and his trousers were black and slipped inside knee-high boots. His ears were narrow and flared ever-so-slightly, and his golden skin appeared to glow in the dim light. The last born of the Chimer, auxiliaries often painted pictures of him, while apostles aspired to the attention he received from his father.
"I will hear all questions on both works, but if any would rather remain anonymous, I ask that you leave them in the container outside of my workshop," he said. "That concludes my announcements. I will remain here for a while more, but you are all dismissed."
He watched as overeager novices clambered out of their seats and formed a queue near the stage. The more seasoned – or perhaps more ambitious – departed the Loqutorium in favour of their experiments, and he thought he would spend an age answering the queries of those that remained. As he prepared to face them, a voice at the entrance caught his attention.
"Uvus," said Sotha Sil, "may I speak with you for a moment?"
"Of course, Father," he said as the architect descended. Aem'uvus left the stage with an apologetic nod to the queue beside him, though their eyes were wide and awed when he met him at the end of the stairs. Once Seht was at his side, he looked on the people that stood nearby and offered them a dip of the head.
"I'm afraid I must speak with Lord Uvus alone," he told them. "I understand he has designated a box for your queries. I will personally answer those pertaining to our collaborative essay for the inconvenience."
The disappointment that had flashed in sullen frowns and lowered brows soon morphed to excitement, and the apostles hurried up the stairs to reach Aem'uvus' workshop. In a few seconds, the architect and his son stood alone.
Sotha Sil waited until he was certain all were out of earshot before he turned to the boy. He smiled, then looked over at the Loqutorium with soft, melancholy eyes.
"I recall your first lecture here," he said. Aem'uvus' brow furrowed. "You seemed far too small for that stage, and yet you commanded all attention the moment you stepped upon it. But I suppose you are not so small now." The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Seht shook his head, then refocused himself on his son. "Ah, but I digress. There is a matter that concerns me."
Aem'uvus stood to attention. "What is it, Father?"
"A senior member of the Congress has reported the theft of a number of valuables," he explained. The lord tensed for a flash of a second, but recovered quickly. "The items are curious in their variety."
"A theft is a matter for the enforcers, no?"
"Under normal circumstances, yes, but Proctor Luciana has taken a special interest in this case. Despite Sedrise's assertions, she believes the robbery has a certain sophistication to it beyond our Tarnished residents' capabilities – a purpose hidden from our sight."
Sotha Sil's voice was calm and speculative, but his son stood ill-at-ease beside him. Aem'uvus watched the architect's face as it looked down at him, inspecting whether his features twitched or he revealed some hint deep in his eyes of knowing more; but, as was often the case, he could not read his expression.
"Then what does she suspect? A conspiracy?" He scoffed. "I thought Luciana above such conjecture. To suspect the Tarnished before all others shows unacceptable bias, even as tools."
"You don't believe it?"
"I haven't the information to make a reliable judgement. But if the robbery was sophisticated, perhaps doubt should be cast on the victim's rivals first."
Seht did not respond for a brief moment. Aem'uvus felt a cold thrill up his spine, but he returned his stare as his father looked down on him.
"Perhaps," he conceded. "Luciana suspects a more advanced piece of equipment was used to gain access to Sedrise's quarters – equipment inaccessible to most of our Tarnished citizens." He clasped his hands together, as though he were considering all the proctor had told him before he spoke again. "That would certainly suggest an apostle either committed or acted as the mastermind behind this crime. A troubling thought. But I find it difficult to believe that an apostle would steal such a random selection of items."
"To throw suspicion on the Tarnished?" Aem'uvus ventured, though he did so with a shrug as if the answer meant little. "I will speak to Luciana and help her to find the thief."
"It is the items that concern me, my son, rather than the crime itself."
"It is?" Aem'uvus tilted his head, his lips thin and pursed. "I imagine whatever was stolen must have been valuable, then. Was she holding a prototype?"
"No," his father replied. "There were many peculiarities that Luciana noticed. Firstly, a number of alchemical reagents were stolen, both common and invaluable, indicating that the thief either has little expertise in the field or that it was meant as a distraction. Secondly, a small selection of jewels – but not Sedrise's family heirloom, which would fetch a high price if disassembled and sold. But these, while odd, are inconsequential."
Sotha Sil folded his hands in front of him. Aem'uvus had often thought he looked quite regal; a reserved, angular face and a rigid posture, the slight gap in his front teeth not enough to detract from the intelligence that seemed woven into his very visage, and his white hair that reminded him of old mer, wizen with experience. The lord resisted the urge to touch his own face.
"It has long been rumoured that Sedrise is in possession of an original draft of Vivec's Thirty-Eighth Sermon," the architect said. "Today, that rumour was confirmed to be true."
"Why would she have that? Where would she have found it?" Aem'uvus questioned, but his father shrugged and waved the thought away.
"Irrelevant," he repeated. "It matters only that it was one of the items taken from her home. Luciana believes it was the thief's true goal, and I am inclined to agree with her."
The lord rolled his shoulders. "Is there reason to believe that?"
"The manuscript was well-hidden. Sedrise's quarters were overturned in the search for it, which leads Luciana to the conclusion that the reagents and jewels were stolen in haste; an afterthought, to make the scene more believable."
"A fair assumption," said Aem'uvus, then he shook his head and softly chuckled. "I apologise, Father; I've been rather curt. Luciana and I have our disagreements, but I shouldn't be so quick to dismiss her expertise."
Seht's lips curved warmly. "No, but for as much as you have grown, you are still a boy, my son. It is to be expected. I brought this to your attention so that you can keep watch for suspicious behaviour – and because of your friendship with some of the Tarnished. Perhaps I simply needed my doubts confirmed. Ah, well."
The architect put his hand on his son's shoulder. His mechanical fingers squeezed, and Aem'uvus rested his own hand on top of them in acknowledgement.
"Every time I turn my back, it seems you age another year," he said. His voice sounded wistful, his eyes soft and affectionate, before he withdrew his hand and turned to the entrance. "I must return to my work. Thank you for your insight, Uvus. It is invaluable to me."
He watched as Sotha Sil ascended the steps. His shadow fell over his face, and then he vanished, and Aem'uvus was once again alone.
The lord's face fell as soon as he was certain no one could see him. His arms falling to his sides, he started up the stairs to depart to his workshop.
Memory One-Hundred and Thirty-Six: (Aem'uvus)
'Aem'uvus, He who Came After, born of stars and midnight whispers, the resplendent harken of Veloth, knew no more than that which was Known. In his conception he was aware of the Three-In-One, but forgot, anon Sotha Sil who shaped him said:
"In you is the Secret, of which you will carry a tune, but the Words are not for you to know'.
The stars, angered at the creation of that-which-was-not-them, cursed Aem'uvus to double-life to start before and after, but he in his ignorance could not tell the Secret. Vivec and Sotha Sil, who loved him twice, raised a veil of fire to protect him, but found a thousand and a thousand screamers within. Of these they took their forms, and fashioned for him a cloak to keep him safe from harm. The stars wept, for none could touch him under the cloak of sheared skin.
'Neath a sky shorn of the splendour of Ayem, he learnt from past-bones the name of the mightiest monster: GULGA MOR JIL HYAET AE HOOM, and so summoned it to fill the Space. But newborn Aem'uvus, imbued with the selfishness of Seht, laughed in the faces of this name, and certain of his strength he said:
"I would not, nor would I accept, to die a mighty creature."
The monster told him what his mother-father had, and he laughed again.
"Throw upon Muarta, for I am the mightiest, and the most beautiful, and the little-known."
The monster told him his haughtiness would see his end, and in double-life he would meet two certain deaths. But Aem'uvus knew not the Secret, and so he replied:
"You, who are bones and past-bones, and are not Clockwork-shaped, are a sentence read by stars, which fumble and turn and weep where I walk, for my beauty is unlike and engulfs them."
The monster warned him that the Sharmat, the false dreamer, would force upon him the end of second-life, and the Son-of-Seht replied:
"Then in Ashes shall I form a Third, and become Four of the Three-In-One."
And so he banished the monster, and in his ageless youth he turned to the fire-face that embodied endless darkness, whom he had known.
"Guests and guests," he said to her. "I accept none. The Ash-Womb was crowded, and all whispered Secrets they could not contain."
And the fire-face replied, "So you would tell me my name?"
"Forgotten. Begone."
In the Shifting Dark she disappeared, and she schemed to reveal to him a Secret that would break apart his shape, but it was not the Secret Aem'uvus did not know.
The Binding of the Words is UVUS.'
Aem'uvus rested his palms on the table, his iron frown and narrowed eyes unyielding as he read the passage over and over again. Under the cold, artificial light of his workshop, he scoured each word as if it could prove the key to unravelling all of Vivec's elusive references and half-hidden mysteries.
There was a knock at his door. The lord looked up, and with a frustrated murmur he tucked the manuscript under a neat pile of notes before he moved to answer it.
"If you have a question, the box is—" He started as the door slid upwards, but he promptly fell silent when he saw who stood beyond it. The lord slipped his hands behind his back, and his face became solemn. "I've been expecting you. Come in – quickly."
The woman was ushered inside. She was a fair, older Dunmer, her eyes a stark crimson rimmed with white and her skin a light shade of blue, who dressed in clothes that marked a seasoned but respectable life. Behind her the door slid back into place, and with a wave of his hand Aem'uvus locked it.
"I've heard of the theft," she said. Her voice was not frail, but it held the notes of age; a wrinkle in her tone that could not be ironed out. "You have it, Lord Uvus?"
"Yes. I believe it's the key to—Well, perhaps it will help me."
Aem'uvus retrieved the note from his desk. His companion looked about his workshop, riddled with complex projects, the floor strewn with factotum parts and unidentifiable prototypes in their first stages of construction. It was a large room – fit for the Son of Seht – and while he fiddled with his notes the faint click, click, click of his revolving bookshelves filled the silence. That, and the jangling of the necklace the lord wore; five gold coins on a conservative string, stained with time and the remnants of distant experiments.
"Vivec's Thirty-Eighth Sermon."
He held it out to her. The woman took it from him and held it far from her eyes.
"It's a shame we don't have the final Sermon," she observed as she read. "Perhaps it would hold more clues."
"It's miraculous that we have this one, let alone a finalised copy," replied Aem'uvus. "I have no idea how Sedrise would have come across it. She clearly held it dear to her; so much so that I feel rather terrible for taking it. But Father hid this from me for a reason. If there is even a chance that it could have the answer to my questions, then I could not afford to let it slip through my fingers."
She continued to read. Her face grimaced as the lord returned to his desk, as if she could not quite understand what the passage meant, and with a shake of her head she set it down once more near her companion's hand.
"I can't make sense of it," she said.
"Neither can I," he admitted, "though there are clear references to a secret that I'm unaware of. A secret closely linked to my birth." Aem'uvus shook his head. "Ever since I started this venture, Avonase, it seems I only find myself further and further from the truth."
The woman's face softened. His shoulders had deflated and his energy had left him, until for a moment he seemed not a man, but a boy once more, small and unable to find his place in the world.
"Have the Tarnished been compensated?" She questioned, her respectful tone marred with the softness of motherhood.
"Yes," he replied, "but my father suspects me; if not for the theft itself, for knowing more than I've revealed. I assume he's noticed the signs that I'm looking more deeply into the circumstances of my birth. That I'm searching for my mother." Again he paused to focus himself, then with a slight thud of his palms against the desk Aem'uvus straightened. "I should have never chosen alchemical reagents. I despise alchemy. Of course it would lead to my downfall."
"Perhaps he supports your efforts, my lord?" She ventured, to which her companion scoffed.
"If I've learnt one thing about my father, Avonase, it's that he's incomprehensible." He lent against his table as he spoke, his arms folded and a scowl set firmly on his lips. "And we have no audience. You may call me U-vee. I would rather you did."
"I apologise. U-vee. I will stand beside you no matter what you choose; but if your mother is alive…"
The woman trailed off, for she saw the flash of sadness cross his expression, how Aem'uvus' shoulders rolled and he half-turned his face from her. In his mind he could hear Veya's taunts, and he felt his heart ache for that piece he had never known was missing. For the truth behind his existence.
"We can do no more today," he said after a moment of silence. "Our security systems are on high alert, and I must think on what we've discovered. But…thank you, Avonase. I doubt I would have come so far were it not for you."
She put her hand on her chest and dipped her head towards him. "I live to serve your will, Lord Uvus."
"But I have utilised you against my father's wishes, and he is your god." He said. "Regardless, it's time that I allow you to retire. I have…much to do. Please, tell Relarise I said hello."
Mother?
My mother was helping U-vee go against Lord Seht's wishes? My mother?!
I don't…I don't know quite how to react to this. My mother – Avonase – she was always so devout. She died a few years ago from a lingering illness, but even on her deathbed she was espousing the words of the ALMSIVI! She put a shrine in my nursery. Why would she do this? How did she even become involved?
Is this why I was chosen? To show me what my mother did? Is it a punishment? But it happened years ago. Why punish me now? Why punish me at all?
I think I can hear scratching in the walls.