Baladas arrived by magic the next morning, a Dunmer whom Winterbell didn't recognize in tow. He was obviously uncomfortable being back in Sadrith Mora, and his speech was stilted and formal. He greeted Winterbell briefly, and introduced her to his Mouth, an ex-student of his. He then spent the morning talking with Master Aryon.

Baladas's Mouth grinned nervously at Winterbell. Either he was worried about the upcoming ceremony or he had heard Winterbell was being groomed for the top. Winterbell ignored him. She had enough of a job hiding her nervousness without sharing it with someone else. The council would meet at noon.

Galos turned up mid-morning. He greeted Winterbell genially, although he seemed a bit embarrassed. Aryon had explained his original mistake to him, and he apologized for recruiting Winterbell without first checking that she wanted to be recruited. His position was an awkward one for a Telvanni, as it was quite rare for one to leave his post voluntarily. He admitted quite cheerfully that he was glad to be out of the council, and talked enthusiastically about his plans to research the growth and formation of soul gems.

Winterbell let his words wash over her. Her eyes were on the doorway to Aryon's room. It was nearly noon. Members of Aryon's entourage were assembling, and Baladas's Mouth was running his hand nervously through his hair. Winterbell took a deep breath and stiffened her spine. Too late to back out now, she thought.

The show began. Aryon and Baladas played their parts flawlessly. Aryon was the only councillor participating, and he radiated power and leadership. He was the silent and commanding hub of a scurrying wheel of subordinates hurrying to their allotted places. Winterbell fell into place behind Galos, her eyes scanning the room for her next cue. She had been told what was going to happen, but there had been no time for a rehearsal, as Aryon had thought there was a slim chance Gotheren might have tried to intervene.

It was Aryon's show, but he made sure to act deferentially to Baladas, who walked just behind him and slightly to the right. Baladas's face was expressionless, but he acknowledged Aryon with a regal nod. Together they symbolized Telvanni united; mutual respect, respect for rank, respect for knowledge. Telvanni unstoppable. Just before the last subordinate had found his place, the procession began to move.

Almost all of Sadrith Mora had turned out to see the show. The local chapter of the Mage's Guild was conspicuous by its absence, and the glance Winterbell threw towards Wolverine Hall revealed why. A large number of Telvanni Lawmen and women, their faces concealed by cephalopod helms, were standing around the entrance. There was no sign of conflict, a fact for which Winterbell was thankful. Slaves knelt, Telvanni associates bowed, and the guards wandered among the crowd religiously checking the papers of all visitors.

Nelos, of course, was there, and he was less than pleased to see Baladas. Aryon nodded to him as they passed but did not stop; a subtle snub that he would probably remember. Winterbell focused on the task of keeping in line, and trying not to step on the back of Galos's shoes.

A brisk and chilly sea breeze whipped that the robes of the assembly as Aryon preformed a ritualized greeting at the door of the Council House. The procession had stretched out, as only two people could stand comfortably abreast on the winding path over the surf. Winterbell felt rather ill, and uncomfortable in her silvery robe. She couldn't see Aryon from where she was standing, instead she stared at the back of Baladas's head, watching the breeze ruffle his hair. He must have felt her stare, for he glanced back at her. The stress in her face must have been evident, for he gave a faint, reassuring smile and a wink that for a few seconds jolted Winterbell out of her nerves.

Winterbell had no idea how long the ceremony lasted. She spent most of it staring ahead, counting off the speeches until she had to step forward. Aryon's speech was carefully crafted and beautifully delivered, Galos's was unpolished but heartfelt, and Baladas's was short and to the point, the wizard making a veiled threat to anyone who might be considering disturbing his solitude.

Finally Winterbell stepped forward. She recited her half of a ritualized exchange with Galos, received the ceremonial Staff of Peace, and stepped before Aryon. Aryon started to say his piece, and Winterbell suddenly realized she could see no way of getting up to the Mouth's platform gracefully. Galos had merely been obliged to step down. Winterbell was still tossing up whether or not to fish for her levitating amulet when Aryon stepped back. Too late now, she thought, I'll have to jump.

She stepped forward, feeling a strange kind of prickling in her hair. She shook her head slightly to dislodge it. The prickling continued, and suddenly she felt magicka ripple from her feet. Gracefully she stepped into the air and floated onto the platform. Baladas tucked his hand back inside his sleeve.

And it was over. Most of the Mouths clustered around Galos to wish him farewell. Aryon was making his way over to Nelos, who had been observing from the upper platform, and Baladas waded irritably through the crowd towards Winterbell. He yanked her rather roughly off the platform, and she stumbled.
"Why did you do that?" He asked, rather annoyed. Winterbell looked stricken,
"What? What did I do?"
"I was trying to help. Why did you keep absorbing my magicka?"
"I…so that'swhat it is. I swear I wasn't doing it on purpose. Spells don't work on me all the time."
Baladas looked at her thoughtfully. "Well. That was unexpected. I think you may be truly blessed, Winterbell. Anyway, I'm getting out of here." He started to fade from sight.
"Thank you." Winterbell called sincerely through the wisps of magicka. He gave a perfunctory nod,
"Visit me." He ordered, "But not too soon." He added, his voice distorting and fading as he vanished.

Winterbell felt rather at a loose end. She felt it would be a good idea to talk to Aryon before he left, so she leant rather uncomfortably against the wall and waited. No one seemed particularly interested in talking to her, although some of the Mouths welcomed her formally. Raven Omayn informed her that councillor Dratha was pleased that Aryon had chosen a female Mouth, and wished her well.

Eventually Aryon emerged from his talk with Nelos. He did not seem to be in a terribly good mood, and he informed Winterbell that Nelos was 'going to be a problem'. Winterbell mentioned her talk with Raven and he cheered up somewhat.
"I was hoping that would happen. I think Dratha would support any female who aimed for the top, no matter what her politics. I shall have to get in contact with her."
"Does she hate men?"
"That's putting it mildly. She's an extremely competent councillor otherwise. Very ruthless."
"What now?"
"We all go home. Although I do have a job for you. I own an egg mine near Vos, and the queen has been blighted, you see."
Winterbell blinked at him. "You want me to cure the queen?"
"Unless it's too difficult for you."
"No, not at all. I was just expecting something a little different."
He chuckled, "Patience Winterbell, come warmer weather you'll be run off your feet."

It was when Winterbell went to cure Aryon's kwana queen that she discovered the dark side to the progressive and friendly Telvanni. The lower levels of his imperial-style fortress were home to all manner of daedra, and she discovered a blood-splattered testimony written by a deceased worker that made her blood run cold. The people of Vos had no idea what went on beneath the tower on the hill.

Baladas's dismissive attitude towards Aryon had lulled Winterbell into a false sense of security, and she was sure it was no accident that her patron had directed her to travel through his dungeon. Unlike Zergonipal these daedra were less than friendly, and Winterbell was wounded and shaken when she returned to report the queen cured. Aryon appeared not to notice her plight, and she said nothing of it.

Winterbell had no intention of returning to Balmora empty handed, and she made the return journey to Molag Mar. She considered herself a seasoned ashlands traveler, and so she stepped confidently along the pilgrim's trail to Mount Kand.

As was to be expected after such vague directions Winterbell had a bit of trouble finding the necromancers' cave. Not that she minded. There were plenty of tombs nestled in the ashlands, perfect places to hone one's skills and shelter from ash storms.

Eventually Winterbell stumbled across the entrance to the necromancer's cave. She thought she knew what to expect, the usual summoned guards, the apprentices with their own little caverns, and the master wizard at the back. Nothing quite prepared her for the sheer bulk of magical muscle summoned to defend this particular place.

The place was crawling with Daedroths. With the notable exception of Zergonipal, they were Winterbell's most disliked daedra. Tough, strong and dripping with lethal poison, even Winterbell's peculiar immunities had trouble keeping up. The dremora bound to a helm Winterbell had been presented with died time and time again as she battled the magical monsters. Compared to the summoned beasts, the apprentices offered little resistance.

Winterbell was beginning to wonder if these particular renegade mages were expecting trouble. Every turn and twist of their cave, and every summoned guard was placed to maximize their defensive capabilities. Winterbell cast quite a few defensive charms of her own, and with a grim smile headed for the final cavern.

Winterbell had the sneaking suspicion that whoever it was lurked in this room, they were Telvanni, or at least influenced by them. They had set up their living space on an island in the middle of an underground lake. There was no way to get across bar flying. It would have been impossible for Winterbell to sneak over anyway, for she had been expected.

The sorceress was waiting for her. The strangely ageless Dunmer woman was dressed in fine clothes, an enchanted dagger in her belt. She regarded Winterbell with a faint smile of surprise,
"You're not quite what I expected." Her voice floated across the water.
"I am Winterbell, of the Mage's Guild. I heard tell of a valuable item, held in unworthy hands."
"Unworthy? We shall fight to see who is worthy." She seemed somewhat disappointed. Winterbell received the impression that she was expecting someone else. "I, Dreveni Hlaren, will end this now!" With a fluid movement she grabbed a strange white staff from the table behind her and cast it in a flurry of magicka.

Winterbell didn't wait around, she threw a ball of frost at the sorceress, but she had ducked behind a rock. Instead another Daedroth rose from the floor, its jaws dripping with toxic ichor. Winterbell didn't waste magicka on it, instead drawing her bow. The lake was now to Hlaren's disadvantage, for the Daedroth could only use its poison. In its eagerness to tear its opponent apart, it ran into the lake.

"Stupid beast!" Hlaren swore, magicka crackling between her hands as she emerged from behind the rock. Winterbell preferred to use close range magic, as it was more efficient, and so she clasped the amulet around her neck and floated over the water, where the Daderoth was still scrabbling ineffectually at the wet rock.

Hlaren drove the end of the staff into Winterbell's stomach as she landed on the stone. She stumbled, but the levitation magic still held. Scrambling for a less precarious position on the rock, Winterbell summoned a scamp to buy some time. Hlaren finished it off with a contemptuous flick of her wrist, but that was long enough for Winterbell to cast another frost spell. This time she didn't miss.

Hlaren screamed, and threw shock magic. Winterbell grinned manically. That spell had been powerful, and her entire side was numb save for a dull ache.
"Now this is fighting!" She roared, as magicka flowed from her fingertips. The mages dueled, explosions of magicka lighting up the cave. Spells intercepted and cancelled, and neither gave an inch.

Winterbell screamed as toxic claws ran down her back. The Daedroth had managed to scramble up onto the rock. Her vision darkened momentarily as Hlaren smiled in triumph. Winterbell mentally ran though all her scrolls at items for something that would get her out of this mess.

With poison still coursing through her bloodstream, Winterbell turned on the Daedroth and cast. There was a sparkle of frost, and the monster became eerily silent. It wouldn't last long, but for now the monster was paralyzed. Winterbell wasn't going to give it time to recover.

Hlaren gaped, "That amulet." She stared at the innocuous bone trinket that had neutralized her summoned beast. "Where did you get it?" She snarled her face twisted in fury. Winterbell gulped down potions, ignoring for the moment Hlaren's spells and screeches.

As the potions worked their magic, Winterbell called upon her more powerful spells, pressing home the advantage. Hlaren was fumbling for her own potions when she fell to her knees, her system overwhelmed by Winterbell's constant barrage of cold magic. As the light in her eyes faded, Hlaren looked up at Winterbell, an expression of abject grief on her face,
"He never tried. He never came." And she fell.

Winterbell went through Hlaren's belongings, and collapsed into a chair, the strange white staff in her hands. It was obvious that this was the item that Ajira was referring to, for Winterbell had never seen the like. She had no idea what it was made out of, although it might have been marble. She could see the magicka gleaming beneath its surface.
"Truly a wonder." She murmured. She glanced back at Hlaren's corpse, and wondered idly what her story was. She had been interested in the amulet. Winterbell pulled out of her robe and examined it, trying to remember where she had acquired it.
"Oh that's right. Baladas gave it to me, for finding those books. I wonder if she was Telvanni after all."

The amulet in question is, of course, the Amulet of Admonition that Baladas presents you with after you complete his first quest. It isn't a unique item, but it is sufficiently rare to be noteworthy. –D