36
.~~~.
The fourth floor of the Archives library was hauntingly still. Overlooking the chamber on the far side was a loft. Stairs on either side led up to what appeared to be a private study. Behind the loft, the massive stained-glass window Ysadette had seen from the University courtyard painted the room with softly colored light. Depicted in it was a figure she knew well – it was yet another memorial to Saint Caelum. Behind his raised sword, a fiery dragon soared through a vibrant sky.
Ysadette's heart thrummed restlessly inside her chest as she padded across the room. Each breath she took was amplified to a low roar as it swept in and out of her lungs. The rustling of her clothes as they brushed against themselves had become a soft undertone she could not ignore. If she stopped and focused, would she hear the blood rushing through her veins, too? The place may have been left unguarded as she ascended – perhaps any extra bodies had been used to shore up defenses against the mob if it came too close. But she still couldn't relax. Not quite. If anyone visited the top floor while she was there, any movement she made would be too loud, too telling to escape.
Each shelf she passed as she rounded the aisles was not only laden with recent iterations of an impossibly wide selection of books, but with early editions as well. Age had worn their forms – their covers were faded – but they were all kept meticulously clean and free of dust. Nearing the midway point around the room, she realized that none of the sections were labeled. That was likely intentional. The only welcomed visitors would already know where to go for their search. If anybody else found themselves in the library, preventing them from accomplishing their goal would be of the utmost importance to the curator.
Running her hand over the edge of the shelf in front of her, she wavered as to which subject would she pursue first. Would it be ancient magic? Or maybe Daedric knowledge? Instead of wasting more time locked in a state of hesitancy, she decided it would be whichever topic she happened upon. She used her telekinesis spell to reach the top, vying for a book at the end. With a gentle tug, it dropped into her waiting hands.
On Oblivion. A decent start if she were intending to learn more about Daedra in general, but it was too broad for her rather narrow search. She retrieved another book titled The House of Troubles. A bit better. It seemed that the Vigilant of Stendarr hadn't been able to wipe history's slate clean of Daedric materials after all, at least not in the Archives. "Here, Grandfather," Ysa said as she handed both books to Ulpo, "keep these safe for me, would you?"
Ulpo nodded. He cradled them to his chest and cooed as if he were lulling a baby to sleep.
Leaving him be, Ysadette went about pulling each book down. After clearing two shelves, she began on a third, the most pressing of its contents what appeared to be multiple revisions of an encyclopedia at the top. She pulled on one copy. It dropped like a loosened boulder into her arms with force enough to make her unsteady on her feet. She held it at arm's length and read the title.
The Book of Daedra.
The tome's burdensome weight pressed against her stomach as she carried it to an empty table and set it down. Opening to the index, Ysadette followed downward with her finger past each name listed, that of every known Daedric Prince. She stopped on the second to last name, Sheogorath, before turning to the appropriate page number.
A quiet groan escaped her lips. It would take hours to simply read through all the information. More than that to study it carefully and parse the crucial information into something workable. Days if she didn't sleep. Weeks if she were to be more reasonable. An overwhelming number of pages had been written about the Prince of Madness – perhaps in an attempt to make sense of him. Or perhaps the unnamed author of the book had simply been mad themselves and their vast writings were an act of worship unto the Madgod. Ysa could not puzzle at length about the truth of the matter. There was far too much to learn and yet she couldn't be sure she had anything more than a few minutes to spend.
Ulpo approached from behind, still cradling against his chest the two books she had handed him. He peered over her shoulder. His eyes barely focused on the page long enough for him to do any sort of reading, but he seemed more preoccupied with her anyway. He cooed in Ysa's ear, the richness of his voice vibrating through his chest and against her back.
Ysa started to brush him off, but at the sight of his ragged, ill-fitting robes, a fleeting idea sped across her mind, taunting her with its completeness. She did not need to entertain it to know it was shameful, so she closed herself to it. She turned from one page to the next, doing her best to commit as many words to memory as her overtaxed concentration would permit. A yawn opened her mouth wide. When it ended, she tried to regain her place, but the glassiness of her weary eyes continued the stifling work. Though her first reaction was to chew another jelly-potion, she had been ignoring the natural cues her body was giving her to rest for quite a while – for too long to be called healthy. A day of being bedridden already awaited her. Brewing a second would be much easier than the first.
Standing there underneath the tinted glow of the stained-glass window, the tedium of extensive studying before her, Ysadette's eyelids grew immensely heavy. When another yawn threatened to rise out of her, she closed the book and turned to Ulpo. Shameful as it was, she couldn't anticipate a better option coming to light. "Would you do me a favor, Grandfather?" she whispered, wincing at the echo of her voice in the hushed ambiance.
He squeezed the books in his arms and nodded his head.
She was really going to do this, wasn't she? Yes, she was. After they escaped the city, she could both rest and read until her work was done. "Could you take this book and slip it into your clothes?" Ysa handed the book over to him, taking the other two he had been holding in exchange before she could rethink what she was doing. "It's much too heavy for me to carry around, and I don't think it will fit into mine without it being terribly obvious anyway. And don't let it sit against the stone in your chest, please."
Ulpo eyed the book vacantly. As his thumbs explored the cover, he stared blankly ahead until he finally tucked the book underneath his robes.
"Is something the matter?" Ysa asked, seeing a flicker of something in the bottomless crimson of his eyes. He didn't respond, not even with a bizarrely effective attempt to comfort her or lift her spirits as she had come to expect from the more absurd side of his personality. She waved her hand in front of his face, snapped around his ears, and still he paid her no attention. "Is...is there something you want to tell me?"
Appearing in an instant and disappearing just as quickly, Ulpo's lips raised into the faint smirk of someone discovering a tentative belief they yearned to cherish. He locked eyes with her. Wild fury and befuddlement wrestled each other in the depths of his expression. "D'oh, we'll make the Fool dance, won't we, girl?"
The sound of his voice that day he had shaken Anvil to the core resounded in Ysa's memories. Every last word of defeat he spoke was as haunting as ever. At once, she also heard the voice of the withering old man she had found sitting on the boardwalk all those months ago, the one she had led to her home because of a feeling she could barely remember anymore. He was an elf with seemingly limitless power, one who with a mere jab of his finger could turn a man to ash and scatter him to the winds, who could catch lightning in the sky, force a storm to yield to his will, who struck fear into her heart in a way no other being had, not even a Daedric Prince. He was shrouded in mystery. He oozed directionless rancor in his actions like he had nothing more than curses for the world and his continued existence within it.
But he was also a destitute old mer who had been weathered by centuries and by horrors she could not imagine. Despite knowing it was a fruitless endeavor, his simple question made her wish that there was a phrase – maybe even a single word – that she could say to console him. To truly give him pause in his turmoil. Ysadette took Ulpo's hand in hers. The feel of his paper-thin skin against her fingertips evoked more emotions in her than it had any right to, and the thought of the stone in his chest tainted her with despair. "We will," she whispered, massaging his jagged knuckles with her thumb, hoping that if she repeated the sentiment often enough she may start believing it herself. "I promised you that we'll do whatever it takes and that we'll win this together. And I intend to uphold that promise. I only need time. We only need time."
As if he had been given exactly what he wanted in those few words, Ulpo's attention faded. He murmured incoherently at her before pinching her cheeks. "Such a good, kind, and silly girl," he said, shaking her head back and forth. "Silly, silly, and kind girl."
Ysadette would have called it a pleasant change for him to be back to what she begrudgingly considered normal. That is, if the shame of their thievery hadn't descended on her shoulders with alarming rapidity. She meant her words, that she would do whatever it took. Gods willing, she would make peace with the consequences, too. Ysa cast Detection as she turned, giving the room one last cursory review. "Now, we need to get ourselves out of here before..."
Whatever words to come fell to the wayside, their sole purpose to waste her breath if spoken aloud. Coming up the stairs, only then entering the range of her spell, was the swirling fog of a presence. Leaving the two other books where they lay, Ysadette extinguished her light spell and pulled Ulpo into a corner alongside her, a hand cupped over his mouth to silence his babbling.
The clacking of the person's heeled shoes on the tile floor reverberated throughout the hall. Ysa held her breath – listening – and kept her eyes on their presence until they came to a stop in the middle of the chamber. Wanting to get a better look before panic could freeze her in place, she peeked around the corner.
A gasp shot up to her mouth. She bit down on the backside of her lips and forced it back down. Each deafening throb of her heart pulsated all throughout her body, even between her ears. What was she doing here? Of all the people to bump into a second time, why had it been the only one whom she had conversed with, the only one who had seen her face?
Tindoria's gaze was sharp and scrutinizing against the two discarded books, the prior sunniness of her face having been replaced with the foreboding lines of a scowl. One hand lingering on the edge of the table, she muttered something to herself before shaking her head dejectedly. After a few more ponderous moments of her expression growing more severe, she looked up from the desk. A pair of spells came to life in her hands. "You're still here, aren't you?" she called out. "Whoever you are, show yourself!"
Ysa swallowed the painful lump bulging in her throat. Her mind raced over a myriad of thoughts. It never stopped on one for long enough to make sense of it.
"You know that you're not supposed to be up here," Tindoria said as she stalked around the hall. "But perhaps you're not aware of how serious a crime you've committed. Allow me to explain this plainly; at this very moment, you are trespassing in my private collection, a collection open only to those who have earned the right."
Her private collection? What in the name of…
Tindoria let out an audible huff. Her steps came quicker toward Ysadette's hiding place. "Furthermore, the longer you attempt to hide from me, the worse the consequences will be when I find you. As of right now, the worst you will suffer is permanent banishment from the Arcane University. However, that is merely the beginning. You've made your presence here quite apparent, and I'm offering you one last chance to act honestly and reveal yourself. I suggest you take it."
Tindoria came to the end of the aisle and stopped.
Ysa gnawed the curses in her mouth. She was cornered. Whether by a detection spell or by acute intuition alone, Tindoria seemed to know exactly where she was hiding. There was no use in trying to outlast her. Even less in trying to slip by her. But she couldn't let herself be caught now. No matter what. She had come too far to let it end. Only one option remained. After the woman had shown her kindness, small as it had been, Ysa loathed to admit it. With a quick check to make sure Ulpo was prepared and still intending to keep the book safe, she steeled her nerves and took one bold step into the middle of the aisle.
Tindoria waited at the other end, her shadow stretching out long in front of her. "Minette, what in the world are you doing here?" she asked with a shudder in her voice. Her eyes traced up and down Ysa almost disbelievingly. "You know that it's off-limits, don't you? Surely you were told so at the entrance to the Archives, correct?"
Ysadette tugged her hood down until she was barely able to see out from underneath it. She backed away, baiting Tindoria into following her.
"Speak up now, please," Tindoria said. Her words were simplistic in cordiality yet biting in their directness as she walked forward. "I'd like to know why you've come up here without permission, and I would like to know this instant. We're soon to have a faculty meeting, so I cannot wait for you to flounder over your words."
Wriggling her other hand free of Ulpo's grasp, Ysa readied telekinesis behind her back. A twinge of pain in her forehead reminded her how dangerously close she was to total exhaustion.
"When I ask a question, I expect an answer," Tindoria said, her voice dripping with the contempt of a person being ignored but was hardly accustomed to the feeling. Her eyes darkened with palpable rage. The flaring of her spells enveloped her arms, causing her sleeves to ruffle like they were being blown in the wind.
Ysa bit the inside of her cheek. Her options were well and truly depleted. She waved her arm in a sloppy arc and spun on her heel, shoving Ulpo into a sprint. Pulled by her telekinesis spell, books leaped wildly from both shelves. Even as Tindoria wailed a curse in horror, Ysa didn't stop running. By the time she had dragged Ulpo to the stairway leading up to the loft, several more people were already filing into the room.
A blitz of spells surely meant for her glowed in their palms. Acting with impressive coordination, they swiftly formed a line and fired at her.
Ysa fell flat on the steps and held Ulpo's head down with her free hand. The spells crashed into the wall and railing. Tendrils of focused magic stretched out to her, wrapping around the carved wood before going limp and fading away. Back on her feet, she made for the top of the stairs, narrowly avoiding the continued onslaught of spells.
As Ysa stumbled onto the loft platform, the mages hardly gave her a moment to think. They started up the stairs after her on both sides. Even more waited below. She shot a glance across the tops of the shelves, catching sight of a lone Gilded Sentry as he charged in to join the fray. Dreading the thought of what would happen should she wait any longer, she channeled flames into her hand.
The mages on either side of her linked arms with one another. Wards rippled out in front of them, resembling thick sheets of glass as they hardened in the air. Continuing their march on her, they merged the wards into an impenetrable wall of magic. Just as they reached the top of the stairs, they paused.
Tindoria had risen to her feet by then. Her hand flattened against her shoulder, the golden light of a healing spell swirled around her body. Her footsteps landed hard against the floor as she came to the front of the loft. Tindoria did not look up at Ysadette as she brushed off her robes and adjusted her belt. Instead, she allowed her glower to scorch the tense silence. "Minette, I sincerely believe you need to think about your next move, and I do mean for you to thinkextremely carefully," she said. "As if your life depends on it. Your next actions could very well mean that. Whatever it was that brought you here, it isn't worth trying and failing to overwhelm several professors, each being at least skilled in every School and all masters of one of their choosing. Nor is it worth fighting in vain against a Gilded Sentry, himself being among the most elite mages in the entire city." She trailed off. Her eyes flashed upward, awash with indignation. "And I cannot imagine anything that is worth attacking the Headmistress of the Arcane University for, either."
Ysa squeezed Ulpo's hand hard enough that he yelped for her. Tindoria had to have been lying. Hoping that she would find the smallest insecurity in her claim, Ysa dared to look the woman in the eyes.
With unflinching confidence, Tindoria stared back, silently damning her.
By the Divines, she was serious.
Ysa's stomach tightened as she guided Ulpo to her back, trying to ignore the words she did not deign to further question the honesty of. There was no way forward and no way to the side. Blazing a path through them would be just as unlikely as being permitted to walk away freely. That leaves…
She glimpsed over her shoulder. Her jaw clenched. What remained of her better judgment implored her to reconsider the move she had only begun to perceive.
Tindoria's angular face stiffened. "I suppose this is what I get for indulging myself in my own inquisitiveness. You've made this worse than it needed to be." She raised her hand in the air, her index finger and thumb pushed together. "I'm sorry, but we'll have to take you in by force."
The snap of Tindoria's fingers rang out. At the sound, the professors dropped their wards. Within seconds, the air surrounding the loft hummed with mounting electricity.
Bolts of lightning burst free from their hands, snapping at Ysa as they careened by and crashed into the ceiling. Keeping her head low, she wrapped her arms around Ulpo as tightly as she could. Her steps hastened by magicka – whatever was left channeled into Iron Flesh – she rushed toward the stained-glass window and dove headlong into what was once the image of the Saint. The ear-piercing shriek of shattering glass drowned out the clamor of Tindoria and her associates as Ysadette flew out of the tower. Jagged shards sliced at her clothes and scraped her skin beneath, drawing painful strokes all over her body. The wind threw back her hood and whipped viciously at her face, and she knew she was falling. Her voice exploded out of her throat in a breathless scream. Desperately, Ysa clutched Ulpo's protruding shoulder blades, wishing she could find the strength to beg that he do something – anything – just this once. After giving her a haunting view of the ground rushing up to meet them, her eyes clenched shut and thrust her into what she accepted would be permanent darkness.
As Ysa waited for the end, condemning every choice she had made that had brought her to this point, time slowed to a crawl. Out of her panicked thoughts, an idea defiantly stormed across her mind. She didn't even know it was there until her hand reached for her vial of jelly-potions. In the next moment, three distinct tastes danced on her tongue. Her strength returned and her mind became nimble and unwilling to give in.
And she knew what she had to do.
Swirling her magicka into a maelstrom around her, driving it so deeply inside herself it felt like it had knitted with her soul, Ysa commanded her body to become as Ulpo's had been that night she chased him through the woods – weightless and unrestrained by the pull of the world below. Pain lashed across her forehead, causing her to cry out as her energy vanished as quickly as it could return. She daringly opened her eyes to see the ground still approaching.
Slower.
Knowing that she had done everything she could do to hinder her fall and all that awaited was the impact, Ysa rolled Ulpo to her front. Her back facing the ground, she weaved all of her magicka into her skin and hardened it, her muscles, every bit of her body all the way down to her very bones, becoming too rigid to move. Bracing herself and muttering a final prayer to the gods that they favor her in this one instance, she shut her eyes tight.
The last sound she heard was a dull thud.
Then came blackness. Stillness. Coldness. For how long, she wasn't sure. It felt like days had passed before a pair of shadows gathered above her then. As quickly as they appeared, the shadows retreated. Their voices were distant and garbled as a warming light cleared the endless fog around Ysadette. And as it cleared, she felt the first jolts of pain all over, intensifying as she was yanked up and out of the abyss. Her lungs were hot as flames as she drew in a breath too shallow to be called more than a wisp slipping down the back of her throat. She didn't know who she was grasping at, but her fingers clenched tightly around their arms as she looked back at a pile of fractured stones.
"Miss," the voice said fearfully, "I need you to hear me. You're going to feel everything as it comes back together, but you're going to make it. Do you understand?"
Ysa wanted to nod her head, ask them what they meant, but her body was too weak. Words crowded in her mouth yet they couldn't find the exit. A tepid light spread across her just as it had done moments before. Wakened from their numbness, her tortured bones erupted with a searing hatred, wringing her voice out of her in a howl. Her muscles locked in place as she waited for the seemingly endless moments to tick away to their ends. Gradually, her sight returned. The sun above parted the blackness, ushering her into blinding radiance until she could find the strength to blink.
"Thank the gods, I think she's coming to!" the voice shouted jubilantly. "Somebody go let the Headmistress know!"
Ysadette rolled onto her side. Nausea twisted her insides. Tindoria and the rest of the University were likely still on her trail. They had to be. As soon as she was able, she would finish healing herself. Then she would escape. Feeling herself be lifted and handed off to another set of arms, she tried again to stir. Her ears ringing, her vision blurry and her body numb, she gasped out the first thing that came to her mind. "Grandfather."
"Shush, child," the voice nearest to her said. She felt the grass tickle the back of her neck as they set her down again. "He's here with you. You both took quite the fall, didn't you? Probably gave you a nasty bump on the head. But it's over now. You needn't run anymore."
No. They were wrong. She had to keep going. She was so close. Nothing could stand in her way. Ysa thought to tell them so, but her words were so slurred that even she couldn't make sense of them.
The person sighed and drew near to her face. "Really, now," they said, "you're in no shape to be acting this way, Miss Ence."
Ysa tried to struggle away, but they pinned her to the ground. How did they know her name? How?
The mists of her vision receded, and every horrid detail of the one holding her down became clear. Through watery eyes, she tried to persuade her terror-stricken heart that it was a delusion. A whimper opened her mouth – the sound of her cracking spirit escaping through her lips.
The Thalmor agent's face was tightly composed and impassive, but the pleasantly surprised glint in his golden eyes was unmistakable. "I must say, for all the time the Dominion has expended searching for you and the old dunmer, I don't believe anybody expected you to fall out of the sky and into our waiting hands. I imagine the Pale Hangman would be thrashing about on the end of that rope if he were still capable of such a thing. Ah, but that's unimportant. To have won in combat against the former Grand Headsman, to have dealt such a massive disrespect to Queen Andralia in the process, I admit I'm rather disappointed that our hunt ends so pitifully."
"Justiciars!" a voice bellowed. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
Ysa glanced away from the Thalmor agent to see Tindoria elbowing her way through the gathered crowd. Another agent stepped in front of her, his hands extended in an attempt to halt her. She shot him a hateful look and caused him to retreat hastily. "Have you forgotten that you require my permission to so much as sneeze on my campus?"
The Justiciar pushed his thumb against the base of Ysa's neck. A green glow emanated from his touch, making her body go limp. "We haven't forgotten, Headmistress," he said, standing up. "But you see, this woman here is wanted for crimes against the Aldmeri Dominion. We have been tracking her across Cyrodiil for several months now under direct orders from the High Queen of Alinor. This is a matter that has ramifications beyond the reach of the Empire, let alone your University."
Tindoria stomped up to the agent. Her stance wide, she set her hands on her hips. "What good is that damned treaty you forced us to sign if you ignore it when it suits your interests? Why did we bother hashing out terms with the Dominion if you're simply going to waltz in and do whatever you please?"
"The treaty was and is good for peace," the Justiciar said dangerously, regarding her as little more than a trifle. "That is what we intend to keep by taking both Miss Ence and the dunmer she protects into our custody. Believe me, I have no intention of dishonoring your institute. In fact, Headmistress, my aim is to return the dignity it has lost today by removing the cause of your faculty's embarrassment."
"Ah!" Tindoria threw her arms up in the air. "So, you aren't content to brazenly abduct people from University grounds. You're going to insult us on your way out as well? You truly are a shameless bunch, aren't you?"
The Justiciar folded his hands behind his back. "I can see that this conversation is going to lead us nowhere. It's quite clear at this moment that you are highly emotional…"
"Emotional?" Tindoria snapped. "Read my lips. You had better watch your tone, or I'll have you ejected from Arcane University with that meaningless treaty of yours shoved up your…"
"Enough!" the Justiciar shouted. "We are taking Miss Ence and the old mer with us. Continue to resist, and we will return later with a warrant for your arrest, too." He pointed beyond Tindoria. "You there, Sentry! Bring us two of your cuffs!"
Tindoria's jaw was pushed out and her eyes were wide with sizzling outrage. But she didn't speak to the Justiciar again. She stole a glance down at Ysadette, meeting her look with one of equal defeat, and her expression softened. An urge to reach out to the woman and beg for her help – perhaps to simply apologize to her for what she had done – swelled in Ysa's chest.
What came out was a useless squeak.
As the Gilded Sentry approached from behind and gave the two requested cuffs to the Justiciar, Tindoria stepped away and out of view, the last image that of her lips sinking into a mournful frown.
Another Justiciar passed by with Ulpo tagging mindlessly along behind him. Ysadette wanted to cry out for him next, for him to take action, to unleash his nightmarish magic on them just as he had done to others before.
Her hopes died somewhere between the rolling up of her sleeves and the clank of metal cuffs around her bare wrists. Shining to burn themselves into her mind, the runes inscribed on the cuffs were a death sentence. They eroded her magicka until it was no more, leaving her already mangled body without a shred of reprieve as she was mercilessly hoisted to her feet. A few seconds passed before the pain reached her mind. When it did, Ysa could only shake as she was forced to limp through the parting crowd. Tears spilled down her cheeks as her chest heaved in gasping sobs she barely recognized as her own.
She did not pray. She didn't plead for the Justiciars to set her free. In chains, broken by her own choices and being forced toward her doom, Ysadette knew she was well and truly alone.