Winterbell went straight from Ald Velothi to Dagon Fel. Before Ranis had been removed she had informed Winterbell that she would need a wizard's staff to gain promotion in the Guild, and that one might be found in the home of an ex-guild member and necromancer on the northern island.

Winterbell hoped this necromancer didn't turn out to be someone else's old flame; one mistake like that a lifetime is enough.

It was a long, hard fight. The necromancer's cave was designed with defense in mind and her skeletal archers were deadly accurate. By the time Winterbell prized the bloody staff from the necromancer's hand it was well past sunset.

Winterbell spent an uncomfortable night on the waves, making her way down the western coast of Vvardenfell to Ebonheart. She remembered stumbling sleepily from one ship to the next at some ungodly hour. Yawning and cracking her joints Winterbell arrived at Ebonheart just as the sun was rising.

Her breath caught. The orangey morning light spilled across rough hewn stone and slate rooves, and the air was redolent with the smells of smoke, cooking and the faint tang of garbage.

"Home," she murmured. Memories of a thousand mornings like this one washed over her, of returning to her tiny room above a butcher's shop after a night spent brewing potions illegally at the Guild Academy.

Wintebell shook her head. No, this wasn't home, and home wasn't worth remembering. Here the buildings did not stretch for miles; the world was not a slate-grey. Here there was the sound of the ocean, and the salt-laden breeze would carry away the odor of people living and dying.

Winterbell wandered over to the inn to get a couple hours sleep before she faced the Duke.

"My name is Winterbell, and I am a Spellwright of the Great House Telvanni, and I request an audience with his Lordship. This is the fifth time I've explained this; don't you people ever talk to each other?" Winterbell snapped at yet another underling.

Representatives of all three Houses were milling about downstairs, and the Telvanni contingent had informed Winterbell that there really wasn't much for them to do except get ready for the meeting of the Grand Council which was to be held in the castle's huge dining room in a mere two weeks time.

"Will the Councillors themselves attend, or will they send their Mouths?" With the Mages Guild Monopoly on the agenda Winterbell was less than keen on attending the meeting.
"They generally send their Mouths, but I hear Master Aryon himself is attending this year, although I suppose you could come too if you'd like. Things are really shaking up back east aren't they?"
Winterbell nodded her agreement and took her leave, silently blessing Aryon and his foresight.

Now, nearly an hour later, she was finally being admitted to see the Duke. As expected he was flanked by a tough-looking contingent of knights. Not that their shiny armour would do them much good against her, Winterbell thought to herself.

The Duke was a distinguished-looking Dunmer, his beard and hair beginning to grey. He had the same courteous and reserved air as Aryon, and Winterbell watched her words carefully. He regarded her with caution, not hostility, although the guards beside him were very thin-lipped at the sight of the Telvanni.

"I am here to request a construction contract for my proposed tower at the site of Ulrith's Grave."
"A Telvanni asking permission, how refreshing." Winterbell didn't know who the other man was, and so she simply ignored him and waited for the Duke's reply.
"I see," Vedam replied thoughtfully, "and are you, Winterbell, prepared to use this stronghold in the defense of my people? You must forgive me, but Telvanni has a history of building these towers to protect themselves and no one else."
"I swear that, should the people of Morrowind need aid, I shall give it."
The Duke looked surprised, but unconvinced. With a shrug and a regal nod he motioned one of his underlings to supply Winterbell with the contract.

The mage blinked in surprise as the parchment was placed in her hands and then remembered her manners and bowed low before the Duke. She was about to leave when he held up his hand.
"And how is Marayan doing, anyway?"
He knew! Of course he knows, Winterbell chided herself, he's about as highly ranked as a Hlaalu can get.
"He is well," Winterbell replied, wondering just what was expected of her, "I'm afraid I can't tell you more than that. We don't see each other often."
"Of course, you must be very busy; the Grand Council Meeting is once again upon us."
"Uhh, yes, your Lordship."

Winterbelll was most relieved to get away from the castle, and boarded the next boat to Vivec. So Vedam knew, but he hadn't told Marayan. She shook her head; Dren family politics were unfathomable.

"Baladas is right; I should leave the whole bunch of them alone." She couldn't, of course. With her interfering in Ilmeni's problems she was involved, one way or another. The best she could do was hope that she wasn't too involved.

Vivec was next on her list, just a quick stop to make her promotion official. Gadar looked even more haggard than he did last time, and Winterbell wondered what Aryon had said to Dratha about him. Trebonius was as flakey as usual, although he did seem rather pleased about something. Winterbell questioned one of the other mages, and discovered that he had cursed an Ordinator who had called him a flathead. Winterbell was highly amused, both at the aptness of the insult and at the fact that one of the snobby Ordinators was getting his comeuppance.
"I wonder if we can goad them all into insulting him?" she wondered.

Winterbell recalled back to Balmora in good spirits. She was sorting through her latest batch of ingredients when she remembered what state she had been in when she last left the town. She could feel her face heat up with embarrassment again.
She sighed, "I should talk to him, shouldn't I? It's not his stupid fault." She didn't really want to hold this conversation in the middle of the Guildhall, so she spent the afternoon catching up on more missed sleep.

Winterbell went to the Eight Plates as evening fell and perched at the bar to wait for Marayan. The Eight Plates was a Hlaalu hangout and Winterbell was less than comfortable under the cold stares of the other patrons. And yet Marayan was apparently oblivious as to her House connections. He really must not like other Hlaalu, Winterbell thought to herself.

Winterbell waited patiently, hoping the mage hadn't decided to stay back and work at the Guildhall. Winterbell was just about to order some dinner when the door opened and Marayan strolled in, a few scrolls under his arm. He nodded politely to the barmaid and then stopped in surprise when he saw who was waiting for him.

"Well this is unusual," he said, taking a seat beside Winterbell.
"I owe you an apology, and an explanation."
"I see. Here or upstairs?" He tilted his head towards the stairway.
"Neither really, this isn't my kind of place."
"All right, let me put these scrolls away."

Winterbell waited by the doorway and eventually the other mage joined her. They took a meandering path out of the town and past the temple.
"The last time we met," Winterbell began, "I was on my way to Ald Ruhn to do some rather unpleasant business with the Redorans."
"Business?" Marayan asked.
"It's all sorted out now; it was to do with the Guild and trade concessions. I don't know why I had to do it. Anyway, that's irrelevant now."
Marayan nodded, "Go on."
"Well, I'm not much of a negotiator, and I guess I'd heard Ajira's sales pitch once too often. Anyway, it's not something I'm proud of, but I used that Telvanni stuff." Winterbell started talking faster, "So it's really not your fault what happened, but you see why I was so annoyed, and why the whole thing was rather foolish and it won't happen again I assure you."
Marayan held up his hand to stop the flow of words, "All right Winterbell, I believe you. It's fine. It wasn't the proudest moment for either of us."
"Well, I'm glad that's cleared up."
"Well…yes, I suppose so." Marayan did not look convinced. "Congratulations, by the way, on your promotion."
"News travels fast. And thank you."
"If you'd gotten promoted just a bit earlier it could be you running the Guildhall now."
"No, I'm not exactly the type to stay in one spot and organise people and talk to customers. How is Estirdalen getting on anyway?"
"Well, I think she was a bit overwhelmed at first, but now that Ranis is gone Ajira and Galbedir are on much better terms; that makes life much more pleasant."
"That's good."

"Winterbell, I've been hearing rumours about you."
"What rumours?" Winterbell was instantly on her guard.
"That you might be going to challenge Trebonius."
"Ah," Winterbell was relieved, "I'm not going to deny it. But it's not really any desire for power on my part, but that flathead just makes me so angry. He's making the Guild look bad, and who knows what else?"
"Well, I can't say I'd be sorry to see him go, but Winterbell do you think you're really up to the task?"
"Of challenging Trebonius? Of course," Winterbell said confidently.
"I meant of running the Guild. You're good at getting things done, and you're a powerful mage, but I can't see you staying in one spot long enough to be an effective leader." Marayan paused, "Not that I mean any disrespect."
"No, you're right. And I thank you for your honesty. I have a lot of things to think about before I try anything."
"Well, just so you know," Marayan looked at her seriously, "you have my support if you do want to challenge the leadership."
"Thank you." She smiled.

Marayan nodded and looked up at the star splattered sky, "The seasons turn once again."
"It will be festival time soon."
"What? You know about the festival? After your recalcitrance on the Night of All Souls I thought you'd sworn off all festivities."
"The Night of All Souls has little to interest me. But the First Seed festivals, they hold the contests." Winterbell grinned predatorily.
"Ah, so that's what interests you. Do you gamble or just watch the latest crop of young men show off?"
"Oh, a bit of both really." Winterbell said breezily, "In Cyrodil there was no way I'd get to compete, but here…I don't see why not."
"You want to compete?"
"In the archery contest. I've gotten quite good over the past year." She waved her hand, "All the cliff racers you know."
Marayan laughed, "I see. Maybe I should compete as well; you know I've been practicing."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? It's not as if the archery contest is dangerous, but if you want to fight…you'll be going up against the Fighter's Guild apprentices."
"And?"
"They're going to be at least twenty years younger than you."
"That's twenty years less experienced."
Winterbell raised an eyebrow, "Experienced?"
"Well, I want to test my skills without picking another fight with the Camonna Tong."
"You have a point there. At least they're not aiming to actually kill you in the contests. Still, you might ask Ajira to brew you up a few healing potions."
"What does that mean?"
"I mean you'll probably need 'em."
"Nice to see you have confidence in me. If you're so sure I'm going to fall on my face, how about a little wager then?" His eyes glittered.
"Wager huh? What do you have in mind?"
"Well, the person who ranks highest in their chosen contest gets…uhh…"
Winterbell laughed, "How about a thousand gold?"
"No, this has to be more than mere money, Winterbell. Something more valuable…"
"You don't have anything I'd consider valuable, I'm afraid." Winterbell smirked.
"All right then, if I lose you get two thousand gold. And if you lose-"
"Yes?"
"I get another dance with you, at the party at the end of the festival."
"That's it?" Winterbell asked disbelievingly. "You sir, have a bet." She smiled.
"Shake on it?" He held out his hand.
She nodded and took his hand briefly, "You're a weird one Dren; do you know that?"
"I had a fair idea."