Melody of the Arcane - Book One: Lock and Key

by WilSquare

Locked within the cursed mind of "Grandfather" Ulpo are the means to decipher the secrets of Aetherius. When a moment of clarity reveals his true ability, he is spirited away by his faithful student and "granddaughter" Ysadette to rescue his imprisoned psyche and escape from both Cyrodiil and the Thalmor while the deadliest swordsman in the Fourth Era follows close behind. (AU)

32. Ticking Away

32

.~~~.

The moonlit and misty waters of Lake Rumare played against the shore as Ysadette stood at the edge, waiting for the ferry crossing slowly away from City Isle. It was heading straight for her, Nerussa, and Ulpo. Rather, it was heading for the tiny lantern Nerussa had tucked inside what appeared to be a false owl hole in the tree a smattering of paces up the hillside. In the distance, raised voices along the road and on the edge of the Talos Bridge had fallen with the last of the daylight, but only slightly. The people, once-riotous and with energy to spare, had begun to tire and retire for the night, Ysadette assumed. For that, she was cautiously thankful. The less aimless travelers, the better for her and for them. Even still, that small comfort was scarcely more than a momentary pause. The secrecy exhibited first by Barro and later by Nerussa had been her first warning of what she was doing. Her second was that her chosen way of crossing the Rumare could only be taken under the cover of night. The Green River's Wine was yet to become anything more than a mystery to Ysadette. Although, as the figure in the distance approached with leisure, notions as to the truth of the matter had taken indistinct shapes in her mind. With her magic, she had spied him emerging from the fog several minutes prior. A ferryman, one elongated oar in hand, slowly paddled closer, closer, and until he was within shouting distance. His face was hidden by both a mask and a wide-brimmed hat, obscuring even the smallest sliver of skin from the pale light above. She would consider that a third and likely final warning.

"Now, when he gets here and stops," Nerussa began, tugging on Ysa's shoulder to whisper in her ear, "you let me do the talking. Understand?"

"What for?" Ysa said, looking at her quizzically.

"Because he can be a little skittish around newcomers these days. In case you didn't notice, this sort of thing isn't what most would consider 'legal.' You can never know when a 'poor traveler' is just that or if they're actually one of the Empire's own. Not until it's too late. It's happened before, you know."

Ysa nodded, stealthily lengthening her vision spell with another cast of it as the ferryman drew nearer. The bubbling light of his life-force twisted around like gentle smoke in the air, leaving a scarce trail behind his slow, methodical paddling. She pulled Ulpo closer, absentmindedly hiding him underneath her cloak as if it would protect either of them. Ulpo then wrapped his arms around her so tightly it became hard to breathe, his voice low as he muttered incomprehensibly. She didn't like this. It reeked of dangers her anxious mind had no trouble illuminating. But she didn't have a choice. If it meant getting into the city undetected and not leaving a line of papers for the Thalmor to sniff out, she would have to take this chance. She had to, no matter how badly she felt plunging into the Rumare and swimming the whole way would've been a better choice.

The ferryman came to a stop on the shore. His skeptical eyes began cutting at Ysadette within seconds. He paused, set his oar down in the thin boat, and stepped out, his footfalls squelching on the mushy dirt. Ysadette swallowed the lump in her throat at the sudden feeling of being dwarfed by what once appeared to be a tiny dot in the distance. The ferryman wasn't small, not like she had vaguely hoped he would be. Up close, he stood several heads taller than she, with shoulders more than double her width. Despite his loose-fitting robes, she could tell the limbs hidden beneath were hard and knotted with muscle.

"Evening, Gulra," Nerussa said, shooting a knowing glance at Ysadette.

"Good evening, Miss Nerussa," Gulra said. His voice was resonant in the nighttime quietness as he bowed his head courteously. "No vacancies at the Wawnet tonight?"

"I'm afraid not. Normally, I wouldn't have a problem with it, but this little one here showed up a while ago, looking as pitiful as they come. Said she has to get inside the city tonight. Can't wait another day."

Gulra's eyes darted to Ysa, then to Ulpo, and he grumbled.

"The Dunmer is with her," Nerussa said, sighing. "He's a bit old for my tastes."

"D'oh, yes," Ulpo said, wriggling like a fish against Ysadette, probably unaware that was an insult.

Gulra crossed his arms, exhaling in a manner that sounded more like a quake of earth than a gust of air. "And? What do you expect me to do about it?"

"I expect you to make one more trip," Nerussa said, crossing her arms as well. "One to the mouth of the Green River's Wine. Don't act as if you can't manage that. I may not have any vacancies tonight, but I can see plainly that you do."

"It's not an act, it's the truth," Gulra said. "And you know that in this city, looks aren't good for anything more than deceiving. I can't make any space tonight. I'm already waiting for someone else. They ought to be getting here soon, and I'm not moving until they do. You know."

Nerussa seemed to be taken aback. "That bad, eh? Look, I don't want to get in the way of you and your people's operations in the city. I know the order here, and I'm not asking you to change it. But I need you to do me this one favor. I'll pay double the usual rate if that'll get you moving."

"Nerussa, you don't need to –" Ysa began.

"Shush!" Nerussa snapped, putting one finger over her lips. "I told you I'd do the talking, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Nerussa," Gulra said with a shrug of his wide shoulders. "I've made the Madam wait before, and I won't be making that mistake again. Not in this life. Not in the next."

The Madam?

In the moment of tense silence that followed, and as Nerussa failed to retort, Gulra looked to Ysadette, his skeptical gaze once again leveled fully on her. "Besides, I don't know if I like the look of this one. Her face seems familiar. Don't know why. What I do know is that the last time I took someone on with a familiar face, the night ended with a dagger in my leg and a fresh body to sink to the bottom of the Rumare."

Familiar. Ysa took a small step backward. How?

"Listen, I don't care who they've got you out here waiting on," Nerussa said boldly. "Whatever her reason for being here, she should've gotten here for it sooner. You've got two people to take right now – two paying customers –and that's two more than you would've had otherwise." Nerussa's arms moved underneath the cloak around her shoulders and she produced a jingling bag. "Now, are you going to take my coin or not?"

Gulra, for a moment, paused. His silence seemed to be that of palpable exasperation. "I can't."

And the two began arguing again. So much for letting Nerussa do all the talking. If anything, she was the cause of the negotiation stagnating, and Ysadette was finding that the time she had to waste was rapidly disappearing. Perhaps it was best to begin thinking of another route. Casually, she looked around. She traced the hillside with her vision spell when she spotted a figure coming towards them. Ysa didn't take a moment to think, only brought to life embers in her hands. Spinning around, she pushed Ulpo behind her once more. "Someone's coming this way."

Nerussa and Gulra stopped arguing and looked to where Ysa was facing. Within a second, Gulra was standing over her, her wrist caught in his giant hand. "Put the flames out, ma'am," he growled, jerking her arm with such strength she wondered if he intended to tear it clean off. "Now. Before I make you."

"Let her go, Gulra," another voice, a woman's this time, spoke from the shadows. "She's not going to do anything."

In an instant, Gulra relaxed his grip and stepped away, his arms held up in surrender.

Freed even before she could react. But the voice, where had it come from? Ysadette looked over the hillside again, only seeing the same life force as it drew nearer. Pure exhaustion was on display in their movements, the person seemingly halfway to stumbling down to the beach. The source of the voice, however, had come from much closer. As she searched further, a gentle wind brushed against Ysadette's arm. Movement, she was sure, but still something – or someone – she couldn't see with her vision spell. She rubbed her eyes with her fists, quenching the magic until her normal vision returned, unassisted and with the faint blur it always had.

There, standing between her and Gulra, was the woman to whom the voice belonged. She had her back turned, the hooded cloak around her shoulders billowing out in the gentle night breeze.

"Good evening, Madam," Gulra said, bowing his head slightly. "It's been a while. You're looking well."

"I'm afraid we can't spare the time for pleasantries tonight," the woman – the Madam – replied, shaking her head.

"Then, I assume the letter…"

"Arrived, yes. And not a moment too late, I hope."

Gulra chuckled. "I suppose none of us would have complained had it reached your hands sooner. But at the very least, I can take comfort in knowing you'd be prompt, as always." He craned his neck, looking beyond her at the other figure approaching. "And I see you brought along a companion? I suppose it is time the boy does more than sit on his rear all day making those concoctions of his. And filing paperwork."

The other figure arrived. His breathing was uneven as he passed Ysadette. He barely nodded his hooded head to acknowledge her. "I heard that," he said sharply to Gulra. "Now, if it's not an issue with either of you, I'm going to take my seat in the boat before my legs decide that the ground is as good a place as any."

Gulra stepped to the side, allowing him to pass. Ysadette imagined that perhaps hidden under his face covering, Gulra was smirking.

"If the information I was given is still valid," the Madam continued, "I'm sure we'll be needing every available hand, and then some. In the meantime, I've left the others in charge of everything. They'll be able to carry on without me."

"You hope," Gulra said.

"I know. Surely at least one of them is capable of sending and receiving correspondence in my absence. And it's not as if they need to worry the rest of the day-to-day operations for a while anyway."

Gulra, for a moment, seemed to grow tense. "Madam, did something happen that I haven't been told about?"

The Madam, seemingly taken aback, inhaled as if she were worried she had forgotten how to breathe. "It's not important right now. I'm sure you'll catch wind of it soon enough without me getting into the details here. Now, we need to be on our way, and I need to be inside the city before morning comes. Let's not wait any longer."

With a simple nod in agreement, Gulra moved to take his place in the boat, offering his hand to the Madam. However, her nimble movements gave her an appearance as if she were already walking on the air itself, making his help unnecessary as she joined him and the young man in the boat.

Ysadette looked pleadingly to Nerussa, whose jaw and fists were clenched in frustration as she met her eyes. They were leaving without her! Her only way across the Rumare and into the city was departing, and she was still standing on the shore. She couldn't let them go, not without a single word in protest. "Please!" Ysadette said, startling even herself with how quickly the words had leaped from her chest.

"What did I tell you, girl?" Nerussa growled.

Ysa glared at her. "I need to get into the city as soon as possible," she said, turning back toward the trio in the boat. "This is the only choice I have. You have to let my Grandfather and I come along, I'm begging you. We won't cause any trouble for any of you, I promise."

Silence all around. And yet Gulra looked as if he were ready to speak on behalf of them all. Still, he turned his attention toward the Madam, holding his tongue as Ysadette stared the mysterious woman down. And as she did, it occurred to Ysa that something about the Madam was familiar. Firstly, the title of "Madam," as it had been spoken earlier in the day in such a glaringly obvious manner she felt like an idiot for not noticing it sooner. Secondly, the shimmer of red underneath the woman's hood was bright and plain to see now that they were facing one another. In the dark of night, it somehow appeared brighter than it had during the afternoon, the depth of their color nearly drawing Ysadette in.

The Madam's crimson eyes darted away as she took her place in the boat next to her traveling companion. "I suppose I wouldn't mind having them tag along," she said. "It won't be any trouble for you to have two extra bodies to move, will it, Gulra?"

"I doubt it." He shrugged. "But I will say it'll make us more likely to be spotted. That happens, and all of you are on your own. I'm not ready for a burial at sea."

"I'll take that chance," The Madam said, waving Ysadette over. "Come on, you two. We don't have long."

Ysa flashed a smirk at Nerussa, whose returned smile belied both shock and bitter respect, and she started towards the boat. After settling Ulpo in his seat, Ysadette took her place next to him. She pulled him to her side and wrapped her cloak around his body. He rested his head on her shoulder as he quickly drifted into what would surely become fits of fidgeting restfulness and equally squirmy wakefulness. She didn't move and didn't try to find a bit of comfort for herself. She simply held him tight so he didn't flop over the edge and into the lake. But even in his state of seeming discomfort, his wide, warm grin didn't waver. His cheeks were rosy with contentment. Slowly, one of his skinny arms reached around her waist, him relaxing into her arms as he finally slipped into a deep sleep, signaled by his enthusiastic snoring.

She exhaled at the sound, relief taunting her before once more slipping out of her reach. She was as good as alone in the boat, now face-to-face with a pair of strangers, as Gulra started paddling them away from the shore. Fear crawled through her veins at a lumbering pace.

"Excuse me, miss," the Madam said, leaning forward. Ysa imagined she would be looking directly into her red eyes if they weren't hidden underneath that floppy hood. "Is something the matter?"

Ysadette shook her head. "I'm only feeling a bit, erm, seasick, I think. Don't worry, I'm sure it'll pass soon enough."

The Madam paused for a moment, her lips drawing into a peculiar line before she straightened up. Ysadette could feel her eyes on her, however. It was as if she were studying her with blatant disregard for subtlety. "I've never been fond of sailing myself, actually," she said, breathing out a humorless chuckle. "Not in any capacity. I've only been out at sea once. I went aboard with the old crew of an associate of mine, but I spent more time falling over myself and feeling nauseous than I did admiring the Topal Sea. He, however, was right at home. I believe he enjoyed it more than he did being on land, always telling me about how free it made him feel."

"The Topal Sea is in southern Elsweyr, isn't it?" Ysa asked.

The Madam nodded. "You know a bit about geography, then? Most around here aren't very interested in the subject."

"A bit, yes. When I was a child, I spent most of my time reading. My mother had quite a large collection of books she had brought along with her from the Summerset Isles. Several were written by the Imperial Geographical Society, even. She didn't have any issue with me taking several of them at a time so long as I didn't get them dirty. I always loved looking at the maps and trying to imagine what the different Provinces were like."

"In my experience, the descriptions you'll find in books never do them justice."

"That's certainly true in the case of the Imperial City." Ysadette glanced up, her eyes tracing up the length of the White-Gold Tower until she lost sight of its peak among the stars, the reverberating power gently nudging her palms as it had before. "I don't think any of the stories I've read about it can even compare to seeing it here and now."

"You certainly sound like the studious type," the Madam said. "If I might make a suggestion, you should visit the Arcane University while you're in the city. They have all sorts of knowledge there. I'm sure the Archives would be very memorable for you."

Ysa tried to keep from showing how uneasy that simple remark made her. Paranoia crept into her thoughts, quickly making her question if there was an ulterior motive in the Madam's words. No, there couldn't be. The woman may have been up to no good, as everyone present at the time was, but they knew nothing of each other. It had to be a coincidence and nothing more. "Thank you," Ysadette said. "I'll keep that in mind."

The Madam appeared to be questionably pleased with Ysa's reaction, as her shoulders relaxed visibly. Her traveling companion, though, as if he aimed to break the unbalanced tension before Ysa could search into it further, yawned loudly. For a moment, he slouched, his expression showing that his mind had drifted ever so slightly.

The Madam looked over to him, a faint smile appearing on her lips beneath the shade of her hood. "You aren't getting tired, are you?" she asked, the tone of her voice smooth yet carrying an air of careful jeer.

"No, I'm just..." He began before yawning once more. "I'm bored. I've never been one for these long, quiet rides across the Rumare. There's nothing to keep my mind occupied. I'd much rather take the bridge and be done with it. Tonight even more so, seeing as my rear has yet to forgive me for the long stretch of riding we did to get here."

"I told you we could've stopped to rest if you needed it."

"And I told you I didn't need it."

The Madam sighed but did it in a way as if she were forcing the act more so than Ysadette had ever heard a person do.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Once we reach the shore and I can walk around again, I'm sure I'll be eager to return to sitting soon enough. I'm an indecisive sort, you know that."

Ysadette glanced over her shoulder, back to Nerussa standing in the distance. Her spindly figure was a faint, quivering line against the dark hillside as she raised a hand to wave. Then, seeing that she was standing all by her lonesome, she must've decided her presence there was no longer necessary. She made for the hill, no doubt returning to the Wawnet Inn, the mess still left inside beckoning her to hurry and clean it up. And with Nerussa no longer keeping watch, that fleeting moment of reprieve Ysa had hoped would return disappeared once more, this time surely for good. She turned to face forward again, now choosing to look at her feet instead of the two people sitting in front of her. They were still studying her, and still doing just as poorly at hiding it. Their voices were obstinately silent but telling all. The mystery of the smirk the Madam had given prior meant all the more with each passing moment, her exemption from Ysadette's spells a flashpoint. Had it been no more than her belongings they were after that evening, she'd have found it more desirable than what she feared but didn't want to acknowledge.

Did they know her face?

"D'oh, yes," Ulpo said, awakening from his slumber as if it hadn't happened at all. Smacking his gums in place of speech, he moved away from Ysadette, his arm releasing her with a lethargic, drawn-out motion. The boat bobbed under his shuffling feet as he stood, hunch-backed and muttering, to cast his eyes up towards the Talos Bridge. The tomb-like silence in the little boat made the lapping waves and the ruffling his robes distinctly loud. Ysadette watched as he straightened his posture, for a moment the image reminding her of his lucidity in the woods near Chorrol, and she reached out to pull him into his seat. But before she could catch his hand, it slipped away and was raised to his face. Ulpo placed his hand on his jaw, stroking at the contours of his face, tracing over his wrinkles and tugging at the loose skin.

Ysadette dared to follow his line of sight to find it was locked unflinchingly, almost obsessively, on the marvelous statue looming the bridge like a watchful god – that of the Saint, Caelum.

"Yes," Ulpo said, the edges of his lips curling into a grin unlike any he had made before. Devious, self-assured, and lacking the kindly warmth his maddened smiles always imparted. "So young and handsome."

She sighed. Nonsense again. It felt like so long ago when she'd begun to question his memories. She had latched onto every word and every action as if they were lessons to be studied. As if he ever meant what he said and did. So long ago, and still only a pitiable few steps closer to piercing the truths obscured from her. Even still, she knew.

Ulpo was a moribund clock ticking down to his final, cataclysmic chime.

.~~~.

Ysadette flapped the collar of her shirt to fan herself as she sat underneath the shady tree on the edge of the campsite. For most of her life, she'd been a staunch defender of the warmer months. The colder ones were only deserving of her disdain. Now that she woke up most mornings already coated in sweat, she had begun rethink that closely held opinion. The climate of Cyrodiil had a way of making her uncomfortably warm in a different manner than High Rock had. The air was sticky during the summer like it wished to tease out a climate befitting a jungle. The breeze was slow to arrive, often warm when it did, and she spent more time swatting away buzzing insects than doing anything else. When it wasn't raining, it was oppressively hot. There wasn't a middle ground anymore, not as Sun's Height drew near to an end and Last Seed to its beginning.

Andard, on the other hand, didn't appear to mind it in the least. He looked to enjoy it, even, but she couldn't imagine how. He'd merrily left camp at dawn to go foraging, although she suspected he spent more time playing in the trees like a child than gathering resources. Nevertheless, it had left her ample time to study as she kept watch.

Ysa rolled up her sleeves and cracked open the book she had been annotating since he left – The Blessings of Sheogorath. It was one of two books she had taken from her home in Anvil. Over time, she had scribbled notes along the margins of its pages. Some were rendered illegible from being smudged, but all drew connections between the "blessings" it spoke of to the "blessed" she had related them to. Pausing, she glanced at Ulpo. He was sprawled out in the forest clearing. Allowing direct sunlight to beam down on him, it appeared that he fashioned himself like a growing flower. He was more like a reed, however, being slowly dried. If it was comfortable to him, though, who was she to argue? As far as she could tell, his skin hadn't begun to burn, but the idea of so much heat pounding on his frail-looking body made her cringe. She would bring him a drink of water in a bit, just to be safe.

Ysa returned her attention to The Blessings of Sheogorath.

"Blessed are the Madmen," read the first line, "for they hold the keys to secret knowledge." She had circled it three times over. And underlined it for good measure. While there were other lines that caught her attention – such as the ones about obsessed, paranoid, and the visionaries, of course – that one she could make something of.

"Brilliant, but also mad," Ysa had written in the margin next to the sentence. Plainly stated, but there was no better way for her to describe him. She twisted the charcoal stick in her hands, thinking again of the "deeper magic" he had once spoken of. Since then, she hadn't gained any further insight into whatever it was. Only that he had somehow triggered it – perhaps voluntarily – and seemingly lost control of. A total loss for her studies, she'd not argue, but as for understanding more about his nature?

"I wouldn't know where to begin. I wouldn't know how to explain it in a way you'd understand," he had said.

It was the only thing about him that made sense. In that statement and the shallow explanation he offered following it, he had all but admitted he possessed some manner of secret knowledge. Forcing the other "blessings" to apply to him had done nothing but frustrate her. That solitary line, that damned line, standing proudly atop the others like a waving banner. Ysadette had applied it to him without having to stretch a possible justification into a silly conclusion.

"Perhaps there is order in madness," she scribbled. "His madness is due to his knowledge, and his knowledge due to his madness."

Ysadette rolled the charcoal stick around in her palm. An inherent issue with her musings leaped out from the page. It was obvious she was trying to apply logic to madness, rendering her annotations circular in nature. A suitable outcome for an admittedly feeble attempt. She put the charcoal on the page again. "Or do the two seek to balance one another? Knowledge leads to madness. Madness leads to new understandings, which leads to more knowledge. Push and pull. Repeat. Until…" she stopped short of writing anything further.

Until infinity?

Ysadette massaged the sides of her head. She was asking the wrong questions and chasing answers that didn't exist. Taking a deep breath, she refocused on what was important. He was insane. As far as she knew, she wasn't. She would become mad, however, if she insisted on such a ridiculous pursuit. She needed to stop trying to make sense of it without first seeking something more. Something practical.Shutting the book up before she could fill the margins with further speculation, Ysa set it aside and stood to her feet. She approached Ulpo, looking over his form as he lay flat in the grass, his arms and legs outstretched to their limits. In the middle of his chest, she knew it was still there. That heart, or stone, or whatever it was she'd been able to see that one day back home.

She crouched beside him, her hand hovering over his body. Was it still beating in the manner it had been? If she reached out and touched it, would he feel anything? And what of touching bare? At that thought, she found herself vaguely fearful. It had already proven to be dangerous even with him in a lucid state. What would happen if he wasn't? With a quivering hand, she tapped on where she assumed it was hidden underneath his raggedy shirt. Her fingertips went numb immediately, the dim red glow of the stone brightening enough to be seen despite the clearing being awash with sunlight.

"I needed to make a way to do the impossible," he had said. "To understand what I couldn't understand."

She shielded her face, then stole a glance at the sun above. She knew the mythology well, since she was a child, in fact. It was where magicka flowed in from Aetherius, that hole in the sky made by Magnus himself. Could that be the reason for Ulpo's interest in sunbathing? He hadn't cast any spells in quite some time. If he wished to build up his magicka stores – fill this "enchanted piece of jewelry," as he'd likened it to – it'd make sense to sit underneath the source.

In theory.

She looked at him again. But how would he control that energy when it reached a substantial buildup? Was it something he was capable of or was it simply released at random? Did this magic stone in his chest hold the key to every last secret he intended to keep? Why did he choose to lock them away in the first place? Better yet, which of them was the lock, and which was the key? Perhaps while he was asleep, she had a chance to prod at these questions in the most direct way she could imagine. Gently, she parted the buttons of his shirt, taking care not to disturb him, and laid her hand flat against the stone.

Pain.

Blinding pain seared up the length of her arm, burrowing all the way to her bones. Ysadette fell backward into the tall grass, barely finding her voice enough to shriek as her muscles stiffened in agony, an entire side of her body going numb within seconds.

Ulpo bolted upright and leaped off the stump and over her as she laid on the ground. He scampered away, legs set wide as he began running around the forest clearing, whooping and shouting.

Ysadette gritted her teeth and swallowed another cry as it built in her chest. She tried to roll over and off her numbed side. No good. What wasn't numb had become too weak to be of any use. She tried to cast a healing spell. Her magicka refused to focus into anything useful. Curling each finger did nothing to return the feeling. They were as stiff as stone. "Andard!" she shouted without thinking. "Andard! Help me!"

No, you idiot! You're going to scare him to death!

Twigs and dead leaves snapping and crunching underneath his feet, she heard him tearing through the underbrush less than a minute later. Andard emerged from the woods, his face ghastly pale as he frantically looked around. "Detta!" he called out when he spotted her curled up in the tall grass. His chest swelled with shallow breaths as he ran toward her. "What's wrong?"

"It's..." she trailed off, the feeling returning to her side, bringing pain along with it. Forcing herself to stop grinding her teeth, she tried again. "It's nothing."

Andard, dropping to his knees, gathered her in his arms. His eyes darted frantically up and down her body. "Well, it looks like something!"

"What do you..." Ysadette found words failed her as she followed Andard's gaze, noticing it was locked on the side of her body that had gone numb. Every vein in her arm stood out, glowing the same color as Ulpo's heart stone. Each beat of her frightened heart was made visible by her blood as it pushed through her body. All the way to her fingertips. Up to her neck, too, she imagined.

"Talk to me," Andard said. "Tell me what I need to do."

Ideas thundered through her mind, none of them arriving at a conclusion. Any form of rational thought was overtaken by terror. Lulls in the pain nearly allowed her space to think, but barely enough to breathe for speaking. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know what's happening!" Like a hot iron being shoved into her chest, she felt it rounding her heart, then flowing out as quickly as it had come. If it were only seconds, it felt like hours. Dips and rises in the burning left her reeling as each surge of the wrathful magic in her body.

Andard cupped her face in his hands. "Look at me. I need you to focus. How do I help you?"

"It was Ulpo!" she said, biting her tongue as she felt another wave coming.

"He did this?"

"No, I..." She took a deep breath, feeling a surge approaching. "I tried touching the stone in his chest. It did this. Not him. I think it'll pass, just give me..." Another wave. This time not nearly as bad as the others. "A few minutes. And I'll be fine, I think."

Andard, still holding her, glared at Ulpo as he bounded across the clearing. "I told you he was dangerous. You shouldn't have been messing with him."

Ysadette didn't like that look in his eyes. It was the same as the one he'd had the night they fled Anvil. It made her afraid, but not of him. Of what? She did not know. "Please, listen to me. Ulpo didn't mean to do anything. He was only sleeping, and I was curious! It was my fault. I-I didn't think..."

Andard was not listening to her in the slightest. She could see the way his jaw was angled that he was gritting his teeth so hard it was as if he aimed to crack them. The cool gray of his eyes burned with a rage that bubbled wildly close to the surface. "He didn't mean to, huh?" he said, his tone dropping to almost a growl. Andard narrowed his gaze severely at Ulpo, a deep loathing hanging in the air from his words. His grip on Ysadette had grown harder, unrepentant in conveying what he felt, and she wondered if he even realized it. "Just like he 'didn't mean' to cause that earthquake in Anvil, huh?"

As Ysadette squeezed her eyes shut – her focus solely on outlasting the pain – the sapphire necklace Andard had given her to mark their betrothal laid flat against her skin, pushing down on her chest with a haunting weight. Ysadette knew that she would have to endure the swapping mix of numbness and pain until she was back to normal. Andard wouldn't dare let her go, not until he was sure she was going to be fine. He had only grown more protective of her since that night they fled Anvil, sometimes blindly so. She had seen unabashedly how far he was willing to go back then. But on that night, she had seen a side of him she never wanted to see again as well. And after witnessing that same hatred in his eyes yet again, for the very first time in her memory, Ysadette couldn't find it within herself to take comfort in Andard's embrace.

.~~~.

The boat came to a stop on the shore of City Isle, Gulra finally having brought them to the end of their trip across the Rumare. The deepest shadow was cast on the sandy waterfront by the high walls of the Imperial City as they stood atop the cliffs above. Tall beach grasses blanketed the area. Bathed in pale light by the twin moons and swaying gently in the nighttime breeze, their blades whistled a tune in the foreboding air. The Madam and her companion wasted no time in vacating the boat. They were clearly in as much of a hurry as they had been from the outset. With a sparse few words to thank the ferryman, they set foot on the beach and started towards the tall grasses. Just beyond them, the mouth of an aged metal tube had been dug into the cliffside, and they appeared to be marching towards it without hesitation.

"Sometime tonight, miss," Gulra said, nudging Ysadette's back with the handle of his oar. "It's much too late for second thoughts. I need to be going, and so do you."

Waiting just below what felt like an entire world, Ysadette's heart skipped a beat. She wanted to move, and yet her legs wished to sit still rather than carry her onward. "But," she began, wrapping her arm around Ulpo before he could launch himself over the edge of the boat and run free. "Where is the Green River's Wine? Aren't we supposed to be going there?"

Gulra chuckled. "Miss, you're looking at it. Or you would be if you'd go along with them."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

He sighed. "Did Nerussa not tell you before sending you along? The Green River's Wine comes from only one place. Or several, really. But it depends on where you're headed as to when you decide you don't want to follow its flow any further."

Ysadette, eyeing Gulra skeptically, raised to her feet, allowing Ulpo to leap triumphantly onto the shore before joining him. She turned and watched as The Madam and the young man with her made for the tube, stopping to open what looked to be a rusty grate turned into an entrance gate. From the mouth of the tube and across the shore, signs of erosion were present. Water had run from that tube at one time, obviously, and cut a path through the sand and into the lake. At the Madam's signal, she and her companion paused to look back at Ysadette. It was then that she realized where they were going, and what the truth of the Green River's Wine indeed was. "By the Eight," she gasped, her stomach turning flips at the thought of the disgusting truth.

"Perhaps not the most glamorous method of entering the Imperial City," Gulra said, shrugging his shoulders, "but it's the easiest to do without leaving a trail to follow. The Legion may be fiercely loyal to the Emperor, but not even they are eager to patrol down here. And there isn't a Thalmor agent who'd be caught dead in such a place, either."

"You aren't joking," Ysa said, cupping her hand over her mouth, her head swimming already.

"As I've been told, it wasn't always, er, as dry in there as it is these days. Consider yourself fortunate for that much, and try not to think about much else as you go."

She could barely stand to turn and look at him, the motion making her swirling stomach all the more unhappy. Lady Dibella, she thoughts, give me strength for what's to come.