Uni starts the day after tomorrow. Where did all the holidays go? I'd hoped to finish this by now, but there's still quite a ways to go yet. Bethesda owns Morrowind, and they should hire Crassius Curio out for parties… -D
Winterbell saw no reason to delay, and so she traveled to Gnisis by boat and then stilt-strider. The journey was uneventful and pleasant, and Winterbell noticed that the sun was warm and the breeze was mild. It looked like Frostfall was on its last legs.
The change in weather signaled the busiest time for the egg miners, and now that the queen had been cured they were determined to make up for last year's shortfall. The town rang with the sound of equipment being repaired and the shops were gearing up for the extra business that the seasonal workers brought.
Winterbell wound her way through bustling town to Baladas's dome, Arvs Drelen dark and silent as it was all year. Winterbell nodded determinedly to herself and pushed open the door.
She was nearly bowled over by Zergonipal. Baladas wasn't wrong when he had said the Daedroth liked the warmer weather. The creature was practically bouncing off the walls. Winterbell pushed him away from her ingredients bag, which he still hadn't lost his fascination with, with as much good humour as she could muster.
Zergonipal turned and raced up the sloping ramps ahead of Winterbell, presumably to bounce excitedly in front of his master. Winterbell took a deep breath and followed at a more sedate pace.
Baladas was waiting for her. The mages regarded each other silently for a few moments then Baladas turned and motioned her into a chair. Winterbell tried not to be too obvious as she glanced around the room, looking for the staff. She did hope it was still in one piece.
"I'm sorry for what happened," Winterbell began.
Baladas nodded and sat in the chair opposite her, "Yes, you probably are. I forgive you, Winterbell. In this sorry story you are perhaps the least to blame."
Winterbell was silent; it looked like Baladas was nerving himself up to say something.
"I think… I'd like to explain what happened. You have entered into this, and you deserve to know what 'this' is. And I feel I should tell someone, Dreveni deserves that at least."
Winterbell nodded to show that she was listening, and Baladas began his tale.
"We were living in Tel Aruhn at the time, all three of us. Gotheren and I had served our stint as Mouths, and were angling for places on the council. Vandus was Archmagister then. Gotheren was constructing his tower at Tel Aruhn and I, as his friendly rival, was there merely because I had nowhere else to be."
"I did a lot of practical research in those days, and I still hadn't decided where to build my tower. I am somewhat older than Gotheren, but he rose faster, and loved rubbing my nose in it. I didn't mind; my career was healthy, my research was going well, and I had Dreveni."
"Drev was a very competent researcher, like you, she preferred field work to sitting and reasoning. She had the most peculiar theory she was trying to prove. She had always been fascinated with Daedroths, and she believed they were evolving towards animals, gradually becoming a creature of this world. She was completely wrong, of course, but we had great times discussing it. It was on one of our field trips that I acquired Zergonipal."
At the mention of his name the Daedroth bounded up the stairs and peered enquiringly at the mages. Deciding nothing interesting was happening he went back down stairs again, and soon squeaks and thumps testified to the fact he was hunting rats.
"Gotheren liked Drev too, and he didn't try to hide it. She thought it was funny. I didn't. She liked it when I was jealous, maybe I wasn't paying enough attention otherwise. She goaded me, and I allowed myself to be goaded. Then she decided that I was too jealous and we'd argue. It didn't help that Gotheren and I were becoming politically ever more opposed to each other."
"Then Gotheren sent her the staff. It was a gift beyond magnificent. Mephala knows where he got it. You can sell such things for mere gold, but their true value is far beyond such things. I am not a poor man, but I could not hope to match such a gift. I told her to give it back. She refused. We argued, and all the bile and anger that and been building up just came out."
"Eventually she declared that she loved Gotheren and was going to him. And she left. I was…perhaps more furious than I have ever been my whole life. And that's what Gotheren was counting on. We argued in the council house, ostensibly about the rogue Telvanni, but it went much deeper than that. I have no doubt that the rest of the council knew what was going on; we hadn't tried to keep it a secret."
"I gave in to my anger and I lost. It's as simple as that. When debating my strength always lay in cool, relentless reasoning. In a battle of emotions I was hopelessly outclassed. I lost the debate, but was still offered promotion. In that political climate I knew that my opinions would be shared by the minority, and so I left. Drev ran from me, and I ran from everyone."
"Did she go to Gotheren?" Winterbell asked.
"Maybe for a while, I don't know. But she never loved him; she took the staff and left, to continue her research in peace. I see it now; she never loved him, or me."
"That's untrue," Winterbell broke in. "She recognized this." Winterbell held up the amulet.
"I never said she wouldn't remember me."
"I think," Winterbell ventured, "she was waiting for you. She was certainly waiting for someone. She said something like 'he never remembered, he never came,' when she died."
Baladas bowed his head, "I see. I could have found her, if I'd tried. But for some reason…after a century or two I convinced myself that she was dead. It seemed easier that way. I came here, and watched Gotheren become Archmagister, watched the Empire arrive, and then you arrived, and I decided to get some kind of revenge."
"I see."
"We were all so stupid. So full of pride, and now look at us, Drev is dead, having spent fruitless years in the wilderness, Gotheren had his day in the sun, but that is ending, for he rules a hostile council, and then there's me. Don't get me wrong, I've done good research here, but I feel as if I have missed so many opportunities. Ah well." He stood up and Winterbell followed.
"I believe you should have this." He reached behind his bookshelf and pulled out the staff. "Assuming you want it, of course."
"I do have a plan for it," Winterbell replied.
"I have no use for it. It is merely a painful reminder of things I should have left behind a long time ago. Take it with my blessing."
"What exactly does it do?"
"Well, Fyr would be the one to give you an in-depth history, but I can tell you that it's called the Staff of Magus and it can heal your wounds and it grants you the power to feed off magical attacks against you, the way you already do naturally. In fact, in your hands it becomes a powerful weapon, nicely enhancing your innate abilities."
Winterbell accepted the artifact and gave some experimental swipes.
"Thank you." She bowed before Baladas, who nodded regally. Winterbell carefully rested the staff against her bag. She looked back at Baladas, who seemed lost in sad thoughts. Winterbell appreciated being told the story, but now she felt even guiltier about the death of the Daedroth-obsessed necromancer.
"Winterbell." He roused himself from his thoughts and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Please don't make my mistakes," he looked into her eyes sorrowfully, "No matter how angry you are, or how much you may have hurt each other, seek them out. Talk, even if it's just to finish things. Because an ending like this is no ending at all." He gave a small, sad smile, "I suppose you don't need to hear this, I just wish that I could tell my younger self."
"I understand," Winterbell replied softly, "and I'm sorry for what happened."
"All this is really past history. Or it should have been. We shouldn't live with such old regrets." His fingers tightened on Winterbell's shoulders, "But I do," he added in a rough whisper.
With a self-deprecating shake of his head Baladas released Winterbell and stepped away.
"Time will heal all wounds. On a hopefully cheerier note, what's been happening since I last saw you?"
"Well, you know the Mage's Guild Monopoly?" Winterbell began.
Baladas listened to Winterbell's news with interest. He agreed that getting rid of Ranis was a good idea, but was more circumspect about the monopoly vote.
"Remember, Telvanni might be tolerating your Guild membership, but the reverse isn't going to apply unless you do some really fancy footwork. They're not going to appreciate the loss of their monopoly."
"They don't need to know that I had anything to do with it. It's not as if I have a vote on the Grand Council."
"Point taken," Baladas said thoughtfully, "we may yet use this to increase your stocks in the Guild. Trebonius is a terrible leader, and this may be your opportunity to prove you're a better one."
"Oh, Aryon says I need a mushroom tower."
"Yes, it is an accessory most Telvanni can't live without. However, since you're trying to stay in the good books of people to the west, I suggest you go and see Dren before you start building."
"Dren?"
"The Duke, of course. He's the one who will grant you permission. Normally we don't bother, but in this case it might be a politically wise move."
"And I get to meet the elder brother," Winterbell said with a crafty smile. "That will be interesting."
"The elder brother?"
"You know the Duke's youngest brother is a member of the Guild. I gather it's not the happiest of families."
"Ah, yes. The Drens have a knack for creating controversy. I remember their grandfather, Arethan Dren. That family pulled itself up to aristocracy on the back of the Empire. You'd think they'd been here for centuries."
"What do you mean?"
"The Drens have only been on Vvardenfell for four generations. The affect to be an old family and they do it well, but there are no tombs on Vvardenfell with 'Dren' inscribed on them"
"That's really very interesting."
"Don't get involved in their politics. There's nothing for you to gain."
"I don't intend to." Winterbell said shortly, although these things happen, she thought to herself.
"By the way, do you have that ring yet?" Baladas asked casually. Winterbell's eyes went wide, and he chuckled. "Am I to take it you've forgotten?"
"Completely," Winterbell confessed.
"Don't worry about it, it's not urgent. But do try and get it before you start tearing down empires."
"I'll add it to my list."
Winterbell couldn't think of anything more to ask, so she stood to take her leave.
"Thank you for visiting me today."
"Thank you for not tearing my head off," Winterbell replied.
"At first the thought did cross my mind," Baladas confessed, "but really, I've made enough mistakes already. You know what I think?"
"What?"
"This year the turning of the seasons may finally mean something again. It's time to put the past where it belongs. I do hope and believe you will defeat Gotheren, Winterbell, but I do not think I will watch and gloat. After all this time, it seems petty somehow."
"I see."
"When I met you, I supported you out of a sense of mischief. At the time I did not consider you could rise so high. Revenge is small-minded. I had a reputation for causing trouble for the hell of it." He smiled, "I think I need to get that back."
He chucked, "I think I might visit some people. That ought to catch everyone off balance."
Winterbell nodded and collected her things, her mind full of strange and melancholic thoughts. She found it difficult to empathise with Baladas; she had had no love affairs, painful or otherwise, to sway her reasoning. She thought herself beyond such things, but as she trod the familiar passage to the front door a vision of her mother's face swam before her eyes.
Her mother had been beautiful, in an ethereal way; nothing like her hard-faced daughter. She had tried to hold the little family together, but Winterbell had inherited her father's iron will. She had convinced herself that it was for her mother's sake that she left, that it wasn't fair to make the woman try and reconcile her broken family. There was some truth in that, but, like Baladas, Winterbell was also fleeing from guilt.
"She probably thought I died," Winterbell murmured to herself. "There's no way either of them would still be alive now." Winterbell shook her head, and pulled her thoughts back to the present. If Baladas could move on from the past, so could she, she decided.
Winterbell decided to head north to Ald Velothi. She strode out of Gnisis thoughtfully, trying to work out why, if Baladas was becoming older and wiser, he was acting so much younger. It wasn't until the Ald Velothi watchtower rose above the horizon that Winterbell realised; over the past year she had been doing exactly the same thing.