Transitions
That was two more sent to Azura's garden of shadows. He sighed as he removed his Ancestors necklace and carefully coiled it in the velvet draped bowl on the altar bench in front of him. Gilavin was quickly beside him to assist him up and over to the divan near the hearth. Remarasi poured the tea she had prepared. When he felt able to focus, he picked up the writing board with its spring-clipped stack of blank papers (another innovative product of the Winterhold Division of Snow Crown LLC) and wrote a quick note to the family of one of the ghosts, letting them know he was now transitioned. The other ghost had no immediate family but had two close friends, and Revyn wrote likewise to them to let them know their friend's soul had transited on. Remarasi took the clipboard and would see that the notes were sent before the end of the day.
"Ser Yannig apologizes that she will be late today. The conference with her family has taken longer than she expected," Remarasi informed him.
This was going to be a meeting to discuss changes in apprenticeships, starting with Olaf's. The jarl had relieved Revyn of the title and duties of Steward of the Gray Quarter. The job would be phased out as the Gray Quarter was losing almost all of its Dunmer population to Aldmora city and would be taking back its former name of the Snow Quarter. But until then, the office was still needed to handle the issues of that transition, and the jarl had decided that his future trade ambassador to Morrowind, Olaf, would fulfill the role. It would most definitely be closely watched by Morrowind. Olaf had also assumed his mother's family name of Cruel-Seas for this new part of his life, a re-affirmation of Clan Cruel-Seas' prominence in Eastmarch. Olaf's lesson plans had been expanded to include civil governance, criminal law, and legal negotiations, among other things, and he would now be taking lessons from Magistrate Sorayn. Another political move as Sorayn was an ex-Temple priest, a former Ordinator of the Watch, law interpretation and enforcement. This was also noted by Morrowind.
"You seem to be handling your new responsibilities so far," said Revyn.
"Thank you, master. But I'm afraid I've had to neglect the lesson projects you assigned me. I'm sorry."
"Mm. But our king is not as forgiving if my tasks hinder your ability to serve his interests, so there is that, and I understand."
"I was also thinking, master, that maybe my lesson plans could be altered slightly? Finances in government versus for a private business? Like, profit or funds and such feeding into civic projects versus company resource or product development? The general idea may be the same, but how does one plan and monitor or predict the eventual successes or failures of civic investments?"
"Oh, my. I will admit those are beyond my current skills," confessed Revyn. "I have never been trained, and even I am still learning. A government is a different beast than a business. Anyone trying to run either like the other is a fool and sure to fail; that much I know."
"Oh? I'm a bit confused, master. You seem to do well with Windhelm's civic projects."
"I rely heavily on Steward Jorlief's experience and, of course, Ser Dana's.
"However, I don't want you to concentrate too much on government. Your future role is still trade ambassador, not civil service. Learn what you must, but keep your ultimate role in mind. Your job is to ensure profitability in trade between countries, not solve their respective politics. And this role as steward is temporary, the office ending when you finally become an ambassador."
Olaf ran his fingers through his hair as he mulled over all this. "Of course, you're right, master."
"But insofar as the Gray Quarters are concerned, you would probably get what you need for the short-term by sitting in with Yannig's lessons with Sera Elani or working a deal for the sera to be your resource," said Revyn.
Olaf nodded thoughtfully. "Like she's yours, I see. I would have to as she's one of the civic leaders there. I shouldn't have automatically assumed she'd help me like she's helped you. And, and the same for Ser Ambarys. Damn."
Revyn hummed approvingly. "Very good. You've recognized the grounds of negotiations has shifted."
"Yes. I actually need more from them, and I can't reciprocate on the same level as you, so I need to renegotiate for what I am able to do."
"Hm, as future trade ambassador, you may have some bargaining leverage, an ability to promise future options."
"Um," Olaf's eyes narrowed as he stared back at Revyn. "Them, and your aid in negotiations?"
Revyn chuckled. "Oh, very good. But no, not at this time. Confine your bargains with them. My situation is too unstable for me to make any good faith promises."
Yannig arrived. "I'm sorry everyone, master. Did I miss anything?"
"Not really. Do you agree with me, Olaf?" asked Revyn mildly.
Olaf frowned. Galavin, sitting beside him, kicked him. "Civic finances," he hissed. Yannig's eyebrows arched, and she looked at Olaf.
"Oh. Well, I was discussing with master the possibility of taking up classes with Sera Elani on the civic finances that she's been teaching you," he explained to Yannig. "It seems I need some quick lessons on the government aspect of finance to do my new job. So maybe not the full in-depth course that she gives you, but enough for me to do my job for the next couple of years."
"Oh, I see. And you want to know how to best bargain with Ser Elani to bother herself with shoring up a rookie like you versus our master? All right, we can talk about this later after this meeting."
"Thanks, Yannig."
"Settle in, Yannig, my dear," said Revyn, gesturing to the refreshments table. "We'll discuss your change in circumstance last."
"Thank you, master."
"Now, Gilavin, your father appears well-pleased with your overall progress even if he's impatient with the schedule. I have apologized to him for the disruptions that have delayed your education."
"Father's not unreasonable, master. Things happen, and the winds blow as the gods will. He's told me to study how your allies rallied and report what I observed."
Revyn smiled wryly. "Do your best. I will not ask for your final report. That is between you and your father. Only his opinion matters in that aspect of your development. Has he asked you to consider any alterations in your lessons?"
"No, master." The boy grinned. "I think my gift of a Dragon's tooth distracted him. And he was pleased by the tale Count Farwil told of my adventure with him."
"They actually got along?" asked Olaf with a grin.
"A surprise for me, too," admitted Gilavin. "Father may not be as quick as Indarys to declare friendship, but he has said the Hlaalu is a true warrior, and that is great praise."
"Very good," said Revyn. "Constance, your apprenticeship, thankfully, still appears on track. Are you also satisfied with its progress?"
"For the most part, master. I wish its pace could be kept to the original schedule, but with Skyrim's separation, I've been asked to start up yet another orphanage in Whiterun. Geirmund will remain my primary, but it is seen as inside Stormcloak territory for all that Throat-of-the-World and Ivarstead are seen as belonging to all Skyrim. And the Reach, of course, is its own territory, and the lord of Karthwasten is taking responsibility for the White Bear Orphanage on his land. Oh, and his new Forsworn wife has asked to visit to see what we do at Giermund."
"I see. Then we will discuss later changes to your lesson schedule. We may likely be able to advance it since I am no longer hindered by my duties as a steward." Revyn smiled at Olaf, who rolled his eyes and grimaced. Constance patted Olaf's arm.
"Now. Yannig. Unfortunately, this is even a bigger change than yours, Olaf. Due to family circumstances, she will be leaving us by next month to resume her true identity and duties."
"'True identity?'" Constance repeated. "Oh, no. You're a noble, aren't you? And not from the Reach?"
"It's a trick," said Gilavin. "It wouldn't really matter to us if she were nobility and nobility from any Skyrim family. But if she needs a disguise to be here, then her family is one known to oppose King Stormcloak. But, obviously, she's not Queen Elisif."
They all laughed at that.
"Idgrod!" Gilavin shouted. "That Idgrod at Tel Windstad was a fake! I knew that one was too flat. She moved too stiffly because she was wearing some sort of weird armor under her dress."
"'Strangely flat? Armor?'" Olaf repeated.
"Yes. She was wearing something tight that made her waist smaller, her hips curvier, and her boobs seem bigger."
"You mean a bustier and girdle?" said Constance. Gilavin's hands made push-up motions at chest level. "Oh, yes, I see. But a bustier is hardly proof of a disguise."
"In this case, it is a disguise," said Idgrod. "Gilavin is correct. That was the real Yannig, and my cousin wears a bustier to exaggerate his figure."
Her fellow apprentices didn't miss the masculine pronoun.
"How would his majesty react to learn he'd been trying to flirt with Idgrod the Younger?" said Olaf, grinning.
"About as favorable as my parents contemplating Ulfric as their son-in-law. Not that that was ever a possibility."
"Oh, Yannig, I mean, Idgrod, I was so looking forward to you helping me with fundraising next year," said Constance.
"I'm sorry, Constance. I was looking forward to that too."
"Hm,'" Revyn hummed to redirect their attention. "After much thought, Jarl Elisif has decided that she is not yet ready to take Skyrim's place on the Elder Council. But she agrees it would be unwise for Skyrim to not have representation there, especially with all the changes taking place. She has asked the Jarl of Hjaalmarch to take her place, and the Emperor has agreed. Our Idgrod must return to Hjaalmarch and assume the duties of Jarl."
"We don't trust Siddgeir to watch our borders against the Dominion," added Idgrod. "Such a worthless fetcher. And now that the Dominion has lost the Reach as their infiltration point, they are most certainly going to try to dig into Hjaalmarch."
"You'll bury them," said Gilavin confidently. She grinned and ruffled his hair.
"The swamps of Hjaalmarch are dangerous for the casual traveler," she admitted with a tight smile. "Unfortunately, we've got almost as many underground tombs as Falkreath to keep intruders from digging into. It's going to be a lot of work."
"At least you have the Dunmer at Tel Windstad," said Constance.
"Yes. They're pulling double-duty watching Solitude's port and patrolling Hjaalmarch's borders. I'll likely have to pull both a steward and housecarl from Telvanni ranks."
"Find a mate from the Nords," advised Gilavin. "You don't want to gamble with marrying one of the Telvanni," he advised. "Families are volatile."
"Volatile?" Idgrod looked to Revyn.
"It would seem so to non-Telvanni since nobility class is solely determined by a lord's or lady's personal magical prowess, not by family, retainers, the help one can buy. Titles and positions cannot reliably be inherited. Heirs must run their own gauntlet of tests and challengers. Gilavin's warning applies only to a potential Telvanni mate because it opens up the possibility that an ambitious Telvanni mage may challenge your half-breed child for the title of jarl."
"Well, it's not too different than if an overly ambitious Nord and his army fight past my family and champion to challenge me in the old ways for the position," she said. "Although, it's been a while since that was normal in Skyrim. We're almost becoming as stodgy as the Imperials or Bretons, where bloodline trumps over personal achievements and strengths.
"But I suppose I shall have to start looking for a suitable mate," she added with a deep sigh. "I hope Yannig has some ideas. Might as well start looking through the current crop of nobility in Solitude, though I was hoping for better prospects. I hope he's identified better quality ones than the whittles and wastrels that initially came courting me."
"Let your Telvanni know you're looking," suggested Revyn. "If you're not adverse to commoners, let it be known the minimum standard you will accept, and they shall actively seek and investigate prospects for you. It is, after all, in their best interests that their lady find a suitable match to propagate her bloodline with."
"I thought you just said that bloodline ability didn't matter to them as much as individual power," she said, amused.
"Ah, but one does get better results from thoughtful breeding. And they are not blind to how non-Telvanni breeds for power."
"Oh, yes," she said, grinning again. "I do remember Manolas saying that Lord Neloth is making claims to your daughter by virtue that he's adopted Lady Helsette as his heir. Manolas also suggested I see that Tel Windstad is prepared to receive guests of Lord Neloth's family, if not the lord himself deigning to visit."
Revyn's shoulders hunched. "Yes, better to receive him and them there than here or at Aldmora. We can regrow mushrooms much faster after firestorms than buildings of wood and stone."
"Well, master, contrary to what people think; swamps can and do catch fire. All that moss and peat buildup is prime fuel. Fires can smolder for months, even through winter," said Idgrod. "But, any idea yet when they'll be coming?"
"The earliest might be within the next three to four months, by Manolas's estimation. That's just the family. For courtesy's sake, we've invited Lord Neloth to visit. We don't expect him to take time out of his research, but it's important the formalities be seen to. However, if he does, for some dire reason, accept, he will visit on his own time and without an announced schedule.
"But enough about my problems. Back to you, my dear."
"Thank you, master, but I think the issue of my marriage can wait. I have to become jarl first, then I need to find people I can rely on, and then I need to inventory my Hold. Get my house in order. Once I've done all that, then I can start thinking about what kind of husband will suit me."
"Of course, dear, of course."
"And we can finally tell King Ulfric to look somewhere else."
"Ah, yes. We shall inform his majesty that the incoming jarl of Hjaalmarch found his attentions flattering, but, regrettably, they cannot be returned due to obvious circumstances."
"Er, yes. I suppose that's better than, 'you're older than my mum; I'm not making babies with you, grandpa.'"
"Er, yes."
"Yan-, Idgrod!" Olaf hissed. Down at his lap, one hand shielding, he pointed at Revyn. Idgrod flinched and avoided looking at Revyn, who smiled mildly at her.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
Three more were moved on. Miladar, the Reclamations priest, sagged where he was kneeling to lie face-down on the floor. Magistrate Sorayn sipped from a vial he had tucked in his belt.
Magistrate Sorayn was a veteran who had well-earned his power and rank in the Temples of Vivec and Almalexia; he was formerly the highest-ranked among Ordinators, but he willingly surrendered his power and authority in this matter to a witch of the ashlander tribes. Since the spirits were spellbound to Revyn, there was no choice; Revyn had to lead the ceremonies. Miladar was the priest from the newly revived, combined worshipers of the three Daedric Princes who seduced the Chimer away from the primary Aldmer stock. But though a long-time worshiper, he had no experience negotiating and working with ancestor spirits. He was the head priest at the Reclamations chapel established at Refugees Rest and a master at Restorations and Illusions. However, at spirit work, he was an absolute novice. He was here to assist and to learn. Although his mana reserves were bountiful, the unfamiliar work drained him quickly.
They were working in Revyn's basement office. The Wabbajack was in its customary place near the door, sitting on hooks bolted to the wall. Ring hooks along its length held cloaks, coats, and scarves and a special banner painted with Daedric designs that kept the influence of the Shivering Isles from entering this world. The three altars to Jhunal, Zenithar, and Akatosh radiated holy power and abundant blessings; the three shrines to Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala, unholy power and conditional favors.
Six gods crowded into the room alongside all the Ancestor spirits, entrapped ghosts, and house guardians in this small building in an obtuse corner of the slums. The two high-level magic-users felt all this as mind-numbing oppressive weight. The low-powered witch with his horde of Ancestor Spirits supporting him merely felt the tiredness that one feels after a few hours of intense concentration.
"Well, that was a good effort," said Revyn. "I could use a nap before lunch. Sorayn, your holiness, would you care to stay for lunch? I can also offer you rooms if you need to rest before then."
Miladar accepted the room while Sorayn was satisfied with remaining in place to meditate. Revyn had servants assist the Reclamations priest to an upstairs guest room. Revyn relaxed in the strange articulated recliner, a luxury item from Winterhold. He sighed deeply, and the chair pivoted and elevated his feet in alignment with his heart.
Gelebros, the Psijic Monk who had been observing from a corner in the room, pulled a chair closer to sit beside him.
"That was magnificently done. It is rare to find practitioners outside of the Isle who can work so smoothly and closely with their ancestors," he said.
"I am fortunate I have ancestors who still find it worthwhile to exert themselves to care about this cold world, and for that, I give thanks," said Revyn.
Gelebros brought his hands together and bowed his head briefly, echoing the thanks. "It is a great effort for them. But they are equally fortunate that there is one willing to be their beacon, their anchor to this side of life. In truth, determined spirits could find many other anchor spots — unconscious, unreliable, and ignorant of circumstances. Those are hauntings and possessions detrimental to the living. Or there are sacred places where interaction is strictly by ritual."
"Nothing wrong with ritual," Revyn murmured, drifting towards sleep. "Like comfortable slippers. A well-worn passage shaped by many feet to be easy to travel. Even if it's occasionally confining, at least it connects to somewhere worth going to."
"Sometimes. Maybe. Tell me, as a former shopkeeper of used goods, did you often come across haunted objects and ghost anchors?"
"Of course. Buying trouble." He smiled faintly. "Sorry. Shop humor. Sleepy."
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
It was a rare moment. Magistrate Sorayn and Priest Miladar had finally left. The front room that used to be his shop was empty of anyone else, and the house was quiet. The shelves were gone, so was the counter. The side room that had first been a storage area for unsorted merchandise, then a work section for clerks, was also empty of furniture and shelves. He sat on a bench against the wall at the front of the room. He was feeling sentimental, remembering times not even seven years past.
He had been a shopkeeper then, running a shop of second-hand goods and shadows and secrets, trying to keep warm and taxes paid in a cold city. For the most part, trade was simple and without repercussion. Occasionally, cursed and haunted objects came in. Some were due to recent events, some because they came from graves. His beloved wife wasn't innocent of those events either, as she'd robbed robbers and explored ancient crypts. Ah, to be blunt, a little tomb-robbing on the side as she looked for the word walls of the Dragon Cult. Most little curses, little hauntings, he could handle thanks to the things his wise-woman grandmother taught him when he was a little scrib traveling with his father's trade caravan. He'd refused to buy someone else's old problems.
Until he'd met his wife. He barely clung to the barely fastened belly strap of a runaway guar. No harness; no reigns. It hadn't been an easy transition. Madness every step of the way. He'd be dead if he ever lost his grip. Yet he smiled.
"My papa didn't understand why Grandmother Hlailie insisted on teaching me the ceremonies to placate the ancestors and to banish hostile spirits," he whispered to Gaia. His daughter yawned. He lifted her high so that he could nuzzle her plump cheeks. "It wasn't knowledge she passed to her other grandsons, and them full-blood of the tribe, not a child of degenerate house kin." He lowered her and tapped her nose. She giggled as he loosened and pushed aside her swaddling so that her hands were free. She grabbed his hand to pull it to her mouth and gummed at his pinky finger. "She's a fierce guardian on the other side," he told her. "Grandmother Hlailie and her spear with the bright ribbons of yellow and blue and green. If you see it in your dreams, be happy. It means there is hope to come."
He went to the kitchen where the midwife Angharad was having tea and cake and told her that he would return Gaia later. He went to his downstairs office. This wouldn't be the first, nor would it be the last, but he carried Gaia through the ritual of bowing to the Waiting Door and greeting each of the deities at their small shrines.
He got on the articulate gravity chair, letting Gaia wriggle around on his stomach. He gently played with her hands and feet while singing ashlander songs recalled from his own childhood.
He stopped when he felt a surge of magic.
Helsette smiled as she stepped off the small dais that had once had an armorer's dummy that she'd removed before leaving a month earlier.
"I still think there are better locations to place a mark on," said Revyn after receiving her kiss. "You didn't recall all the way from Winterhold, did you?"
"No, I'm not strong enough for that yet. I jumped from the Frostburn estate, saving me two days' travel. It's so annoying that I can only set one marker. If I could set more, I could transit from one to the other. But since I've only magic for one, this is the only place worth marking." She picked up Gaia, humming with happiness and rubbing cheeks with her. "Gives me the incentive to work harder."
"Don't push yourself too hard, love. Master Baladas may have the skill and power to set three markers, but he's got hundreds of years of experience and power."
"Right, right. And if we can figure out that blasted stone you're sitting on, we think we could maybe attach an Almsivi Intervention on it since it was created by the Tribunal at the height of their godhood. But it's too bad the guardians won't let him near it."
Revyn sighed. "I've tried talking to them, but they are adamant. Skuldafn and the gate to Sovngarde; no other destination or use is permitted."
They both went quiet. Revyn got up out of the recliner and unrolled a white cave bear rug on the floor where they all lay upon it. He and his wife lay on their sides, facing each other and quietly making future plans beyond Skuldafen. Their bodies made a safe, warm pen in which their babe cooed and rocked on her back, waving her hands at shadows.
Related story(s): #22 Passed the Line; #67 The Apprentices: Blackwin; #71 Forbidden Legend
Cyan Quartz:Revyn's shop was conceived to be one of those "Twilight Zone" shops of lost objects and lost souls. Curtis was supposed to be a one-shot story of one of those lost souls, an OC sent to Winterhold to play bit parts. Personality is based on an old boyfriend. Charming, confident, brash, but all talk, no follow-through, and long gone. Curtis's intellectual interests reflect mine — without my ADD. He got away from me; unlike the old BF, he refused to go away, so I gave him his own storyline and the fantasy power of "getting-things-done."
KVeronicaP & Jasperk: Thank you for the kind words and encouragement.
Ted Hsu: Yeah, it's amazing how petty and vicious some people can be in taking out their frustrations on someone else when things go wrong because of their own failures.