Uhther looked around himself as he followed Faralda across the bridge. The college had changed almost as much as the town had in the past five years. It seemed that the new Arch-mage had been able to do what Savos Aren had not and finally repair the bridge that led across to the great rock on which the college stood.
Uhther remembered how last time there had been great chunks missing from the bridge, as well as holes as wide as a man's outstretched arms. Now though, the bridge was whole and, for want of a better word, pristine. It almost glittered in the blue, ethereal light that rose in a column from the college.
In spite of himself, Uhther was impressed. This Safiya al-Ruuz was clearly more affirmative in action than her predecessor had been.
They crossed the bridge and arrived at the gate that barred the college from the outside world. Uhther saw, again, the five-pointed star with the eye at its centre, now staring at him from the gate, as if demanding to know what he was doing there.
Faralda unlocked the gate and led him into the courtyard. It was a large, open area, flanked on all sides by the thick, stone walls that surrounded the college. At its centre was a large statue and it was from this that the pillar of blue light rose. Not far from them, a group of novice mages were practising warding, under the watchful eye of a Breton mage who Uhther thought he had met last time he'd been here. A short, thin woman with a very stern face.
One of the novices saw them approach and, after deflecting a small fireball from one of the other novices, quickly dropped her ward to come over to them.
'Lord Dragonborn!' she greeted them, enthusiastically, waving her hand familiarly. Uhther thought she looked familiar but was having difficulty putting a name to the face that was now smiling at him. The girl stopped in front of them, lowering her novice hood to reveal a head of long, blonde hair. 'Lord Dragonborn,' she said again, still smiling warmly, 'it's me, Sissel. You used to come to my village and take Erik off on adventures.'
It took Uhther another moment but he finally remembered.
Sissel had been a small, good natured girl who had been cursed with a less that satisfactory family. Like she had said, Uhther had met her a few times when he had come to Rorikstead to recruit his friend Erik the Slayer for some adventure. It had been on these occasions that Uhther had also met her father, Lemkil, a sullen and violent tempered man who had been a little too fond of beating his children for their supposed laziness.
I must remember to get in touch with Erik, Uhther thought, privately, he would certainly be good to have around in the days ahead.
'It is nice to see you again,' Uhther said aloud. He was being truthful. He had always been fond of the girl and had always stopped to speak with her when he passed through Rorikstead. He just wished he could have done more to help her. 'What are you doing here?'
Sissel beamed and looked back to where her instructor was looking straight at her, somehow looking even sterner than she had before. 'Jouane said I was finally ready,' she said, apparently unperturbed by her teacher's glowering. 'He gave me some money and some food and paid for the carriage driver to bring me here. We had to do it quick, to make sure my father didn't know.' She looked back to him, still beaming. She was clearly overjoyed by the way her life had turned, though given where she had been living, that was hardly surprising.
Uhther heard a patient but insistent cough and turned to see that Faralda was waiting for him, a politely expectant look on her face.
Sissel also heard the cough and looked past Uhther at Faralda. Her eyes widened.
'Why are you here?' she asked, her voice thick with curiosity.
'The Arch-mage wanted to see me,' Uhther answered. He saw no reason to lie to the girl. It was not as though he was scheming anything. At least, not yet.
'Oooh,' Sissel gasped, clearly impressed, 'why?'
But before Uhther could answer, Faralda was at his shoulder, scowling at the girl.
'If you wish to be raised to apprentice this year, Sissel,' she said, her voice brooking no argument, 'I suggest you stop wasting the Dragonborn's time and return to your training.'
Sissel's face flushed, quite an accomplishment in Winterhold weather, and stammered an apology. Faralda sniffed, turned on her heel and walked away in the direction of the opposite side of the courtyard.
Bidding Sissel a friendly goodbye, and assuring her she had not been wasting his time, Uhther followed Faralda to the main tower, through the great double doors, up the winding staircase and finally arrived at a new door. It was carved of oak and upon it was embossed the college's sigil of the eye at the centre of five-pointed star. Uhther was already getting a little tired of seeing that thing staring at him wherever he went. The Divines only knew how the college students felt having to live with it. Did they ever get used to it?
Outside the door, Faralda turned to him.
'The Arch-mage is expecting you,' she assured him, 'I must return to my studies.' And with that she walked back the way they had come, leaving him outside the door.
Uhther hesitated. He was very aware of the fact he was about to be alone in a room with one of the most powerful mages in all of Skyrim. In spite of wearing his best set of armour, dragonscale enchanted with spells of strength and endurance, he felt nervous. He knew that the Arch-mage, this Safiya al-Ruuz, possessed powers he could only dream of, perhaps even powers that would render his armour completely useless. He had no skill with magic himself, not that he had ever really needed it. A good sword had always been enough to suit his purposes. He gripped Dragon's Breath's hilt tightly now before he knocked on the door. He did not expect he would need it, but it never hurt to be prepared. Especially with a mage.
At first there was no answer. It was as Uhther raised his fist to knock that he finally heard a voice from within.
'It's open, Dragonborn!'
Uhther took a deep breath. He did not understand why he was so nervous. He'd faced powerful mages before, Miraak was a prime example. Was it the uncertainty of what this one wanted that was making him feel this way? He supposed that at least with Miraak he'd known where he stood.
Trying to appear confident, Uhther pushed the door open.
The first thing he noticed was the small garden that grew in the middle of the room, illuminated by soft blue light that shone all around them. His eye went to the white tree that stood in the centre of the garden. It seemed like a strange thing to have growing here, at the top of a tower. Banners showing the college insignia hung behind the garden. More of those eyes staring at him.
'Thank you for arriving so quickly.' Uhther's attention was snapped away from the garden and the eyes behind it and turned instead on a woman who sat behind a desk in the corner of the room. She wore the fur-trimmed blue mantle of the arch-mage, though she apparently preferred to wear the hood down. Her dark hair hung in a braid over her shoulder, her darker eyes were fixed on him. Her face was set in an expression that seemed cold yet determined. This was a woman of serious intent, Uhther realised, not a will to be underestimated.
From the easy way she sat in her chair, Uhther could tell this was someone who was used to being in command of whatever room she was in. He would need to show equal will or else this arch-mage would run rough-shod all over him.
Drawing himself up to his full height, Uhther met Safiya al-Ruuz stony stare for stony stare.
'Well I have never received anything from you before,' he said, being careful to keep his voice level, 'I assumed it must be something important for you to want to get in touch now. Even when the cult of Miraak threatened this very coast, calling for the "False Dragonborn", I heard nothing from you. And you had been arch-mage for a few months by then.'
Safiya nodded and rose gracefully from her seat.
'It's true,' she said, her voice like silk over steel, 'a meeting between us has been overdue. But there was always something going on here, something that needed my attention. My duty has always been to the College, you see? While yours has always seemed to be everywhere but here.' She smiled a small smile to herself, picked up a quill and scribbled something down in what Uhther assumed was a journal.
'So why now?' Uhther asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the words being written, and failing. Safiya closed the journal with a snap and looked back up at him with eyes like flint.
'Because something is coming, Dragonborn, something unlike anything you have faced before. And if we are to survive it, it will take all of us working together.'
Uhther was taken aback by the sudden change in her voice. The silk was gone now, showing only the bare steel, sharp and deadly. It was almost enough to have him reaching for Dragon's Breath.
'What is it?' he asked, trying hard now to keep his voice as level as the Arch-mage's. Safiya sniffed.
'That is something, I'm afraid, that I alone cannot answer,' she said, and there was a note of impatience in her voice now. She moved out from behind her desk and began making for the door. 'Come,' she said, 'take a walk with me.'
Hesitant but intrigued, Uhther followed her out of the room and up a set of stairs he had not noticed on the way in. They walked together, Safiya leading the way, until they reached a landing that opened out onto a terrace. Uhther thought he saw dim daylight and heard what sounded like the howling of the wind. But that couldn't be, there was no chill in the air. If anything, the air was now warmer than it had been inside.
They walked out onto the terrace and Uhther saw that they were indeed outside, on top of the tallest tower of the College, but the winds that howled all around them did not touch them, no more than the snows that swirled and flurried but never settled atop the tower.
'Magic,' Uhther breathed as he watched the heavy snows swirl around them but never onto them. He could not help but be impressed. He had the power to clear the skies of these snow clouds with nothing but his voice, but this dome of clear air was beyond his skill.
Uhther was so distracted by the magic around him that he almost did not notice the figure waiting for them. He was tall, too tall for a man, and wore yellow robes with a deep hood drawn over his head. It was not until he turned to face them that Uhther's suspicions were confirmed. He was an elf, a High Elf of the Summerset Isles, like Faralda.
Uhther felt his hackles go up. It was true that not every Altmer was a supporter of the Aldmeri Dominion but, in his experience, it was best to assume so unless proved otherwise. He had known Faralda from his last time here, he did not know this one. He felt the fingers of his right hand twitch as he fought the urge to reach for his sword.
Safiya moved forward to make introductions.
'This is Quaranir,' she said, indicating the elf in yellow, 'a sorcerer of the Psijic Order.'
Uhther's eyes never moved from the elf, but he did relax a little. He knew a little of the Psijic Order, no more than anyone else did. The first magical order in Tamriel, from whom the Mages Guild had been created, centuries ago. Uhther remembered hearing that the sorcerers kept themselves independent of Thalmor rule, though that could just be rumour for all he knew.
Quaranir inclined his head to Uhther.
'Truly, it is an honour to meet you,' he said. He did, at least, sound honest, 'word of your many deeds have reached us in Artaeum. In truth, I had thought to try to meet you sooner but there did not seem much point given your lack of magical ability, no offence meant.'
'None taken,' said Uhther, who had never thought of his lack of magic as a disability. Turning to Safiya he said, 'so what is this thing we need to be prepared for?'
Safiya shook her head.
'Not yet,' she said, 'there is one more person who needs to hear this. I rather thought she would be here by now.'
'I am,' came a new voice. I deep, imposing voice with the inflections of the east. The air beside the door they had walked out of seemed to twist and glimmer and suddenly there was a figure there where none had been before. A figure clad in close fitted clothing the colour of storm clouds and shadow. A deep cowl of the same shade covered her head while her face was obscured by a mask. A cloak that seemed to shimmer through different shades of grey hung down her back. At her hip hung two daggers that appeared to be made of ebony. She regarded the three of them with appraising eyes. She held up a scroll marked with the same blue seal as the one Uhther had received. 'So,' she said, 'what is this all about?'
