"I'll be back at the Hearth if the night's events find you in need of a strong drink," Faralda called as the group passed.
"Don't wait for me," Nariilu replied. She took care on the broken bridge, moving slower than usual as Etienne shuffled along in front of her without lifting his feet. Gods, if he fell now…well, someone at the College had to at least know something about necromancy.
"Is Archmage Aren still awake?" She asked no one in particular, leading the group towards the Hall of the Elements. "I'm damn ready to put this nonsense behind me," Nariilu muttered. She pushed open the door, not bothering to hold it open for J'zargo or Etienne, whichever one was behind her. Both of them moved near silently, even more so now that Etienne had cast that muffle spell on himself.
"Sleep is for those who haven't moved past it." Nariilu whipped around. Archmage Aren lounged on the bench next to the stairs to his chamber, flipping through a book a few pages at a time. "Etienne Wuldach Rarnis of Karthspire, I welcome you to the College of Winterhold."
"I'm from Dragon Bridge-"
"Are you now?" Archmage Aren interrupted Etienne. "You're remarkably easy to read. I suggest you attend a few lectures on mental fortification, when you aren't acting as my Dominion Advisor, of course." He reached the back cover of the book and shut it, placing it down on a stack beside him and picking up another tome from a much smaller stack on his other side.
"The contract doesn't say anything about being an advisor," Etienne protested.
"It's a joke, Reachman," Stormcloak said. Etienne flinched.
"He's already been through most of Ancano's journals. Did you find anything else?" Nariilu pulled a copy of the contract from her bag and handed it to the Archmage. He put it down without looking at it. Or maybe he did; he was already a third through the book he had just picked up.
"Ancano believed he could hide his reports in a small plane of Oblivion. How simple-minded!" Archmage Aren explained. Nariilu blinked; she'd never heard of anyone accessing any plane of Oblivion, except to summon atronachs. J'zargo chuckled, though Nariilu was almost certain he was doing it for show to seem more competent than he was.
"My work is done," Nariilu said, more of a question than a statement. Hopefully Archmage Aren didn't demand she do anything else. She had important things to do behind the Archmage's back, like find the Augur of Dunlain. Hopefully J'zargo had figured out who-and where-the Augur was in her absence.
"Yes, yes, you can go," Archmage Aren said with a handwave. He began speaking in a sharp lilting language Nariilu assumed to be Aldmeris.
She turned and left. "Did you find him?" She whispered to J'zargo, half hearing Etienne explain the terms of his contract and protest that he could only read and write Aldmeris, not speak it.
"You said you would never travel with a companion again." J'zargo whispered back, his eyes briefly darting to Stormcloak.
"I know what I said. Did you find the Augur?"
"Yes, he is in the Midden. Somewhere. I been too busy to search." J'zargo held open the door for her.
"Good. We'll go down tonight. And hopefully tomorrow we can-" She suddenly realized she didn't hear Stormcloak's loud plodding steps. "Hold on." Nariilu walked back in the Hall of the Elements to pull him away from where he was standing and staring at the Archmage and Etienne pour through journals and loose parchment and discuss the contents. "Let's go."
"He's Forsworn," he hissed once they were in the courtyard. J'zargo lowered a snowball when Nariilu shot him a look.
"And now he's saving us from a war with the Aldmeri Dominion," Nariilu replied, noticing the harsh scowl on Stormcloak's face. She suddenly recalled all the conflicting reports of the Markarth Incident. First-hand accounts ranged from a claim that Stormcloak had ordered the deaths of anyone in the Hold who'd refused to lay down their life for Talos, to him valiantly retaking the Hold from primitive witches. Nariilu'd never known or cared which version to believe; she imagined it was somewhere in the middle. All she knew was that the Forsworn tended to want her head on a pike if she wandered down the wrong path, but there wasn't much wrong with being territorial especially if the more violent accounts of the Incident were true.
"He speaks Aldmeris."
"So does the Archmage. What does that have to do with him being Forsworn?"
"The Archmage learned it for magical study. Where and why did the Forsworn thief learn it?" Stormcloak paused for emphasis. "He's a Thalmor spy."
"Maybe so he could study magic," Nariilu said, "Or to become a more efficient forger. If you'd asked him on the cart-"
"I don't speak to thieves. Or Forsworn."
"You don't have to speak to him. He works for the College, now."
"You've swapped one Thalmor for another."
"You think just because he can speak Aldmeris, he's Thalmor."
"J'zargo cannot speak Aldmeris," J'zargo chimed in. Nariilu put a hand to her face.
Stormcloak pointed at J'zargo. "The Khajiit is Thalmor?"
"I am from Corinthe," J'zargo said as if he was explaining what air was to an idiot. "This one is a fool." He told Nariilu, not bothering to hide his words from Stormcloak.
"Do you know who this is?" Nariilu asked J'zargo.
"I already said this one is a fool."
"Quiet," Nariilu told Stormcloak, before he could get a word in. "Elsweyr is part of the Dominion." She turned to J'zargo and gestured. "This is Ulfric Stormcloak." J'zargo shrugged. Nariilu realized that J'zargo, of all people, would be the one person in Skyrim who hadn't heard of, or cared to remember, the things Stormcloak did. She groaned. "Did you even know about the war?"
"The Great War? Of course." J'zargo crossed his arms. At least Stormcloak had dropped the scowl in favor of an astonished, confused look.
"The Civil War. In Skyrim. Between the Empire and the Stormcloaks." She held her fingers to her temples. J'zargo narrowed his eyes. "The one I left to fight in."
"I did not know there was a war."
Nariilu took a deep breath and exchanged a look with Stormcloak. She steepled her fingers and pressed them into her forehead. "We can discuss this later. Just…come on."
She crunched through the snow to the Hall of Attainment. "You know," J'zargo said, "J'zargo could have killed Ancano as well. If I wanted to. I am a very busy man, and do not waste my time with matters that are beneath me." She heard Stormcloak sigh.
The Dragonborn set her saddlebag down next to the wardrobe and motioned to do the same with the bags he was carrying. "Right," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "You can go ahead and sleep here. I have other work to do tonight."
"What kind of work?" Ulfric didn't care, but he did enjoy how candid the Dragonborn tended to be with only a small bit of prodding. She really thought that answering whatever question he came up with would win her his trust. She would make a horrible politician, as easily as she spoke of her past and future. There would be no telling how her reign as Jarl of the Rift would go, if she managed to actually be accepted as a Jarl by the Thanes. Divines, she'd cause a succession war, even with the contract.
"Magic," She said. Not the explanation Ulfric was hoping for. "I'm planning to leave for Whiterun tomorrow. Leave your armor on the short wardrobe; I might be able to get it enchanted for you in the morning."
J'zargo scoffed. "It is armor, not a necklace. How is this one going to enchant that?"
"I was going to get Turrianus to do it," the Dragonborn replied, "but thank you for your confidence in my abilities." She knelt down and dug through her saddlebag, pulling out three potions. They were slightly-off red, with patches of thick blueish grey residue marbling the bottles. J'zargo faked a gag. "I'll let you bleed out before I pour one of these down your throat if you keep that up."
Ulfric thought about pressing for more information about her night's plans but decided against it. He had little interest, and the thought of sleeping in a bed after days of catching rest where he could had him ready to call it a night. Whatever the Dragonborn and Khajiit were about to do seemed dangerous, if the potions were anything to go by.
Come to think of it…the potions looked like health potions but, with these being obviously homemade from some nonstandard formula, there was no telling what effect they had. Ulfric nodded and the Dragonborn nodded back, standing and attaching her potions to her belt.
"If you need anything while I'm gone, Onmund should be back from the Arcanaeum soon," she said, picking up a flower from the magicka well. She rolled it between her fingers as she held it by her side. "Wait," she turned to J'zargo. "He wasn't at the Hearth, was he?"
"Of course not."
"Good. Goodnight, then." She and J'zargo left. The door shut with a muffled thud. Three potions. Ulfric made a note to watch her balance on her horse tomorrow.
Ulfric looked around and sat on the bed, beginning to work out of the cuirass. It was wet with melted snow, dripping down onto the furs and blankets of the bed. Whoever this Onmund fellow was, Ulfric wasn't too keen on meeting him. Those he'd met at the College so far were just as strange as their reputations told of, even though none of them seemed to be as dangerous as Jarl Korir always complained.
Still, Ulfric wouldn't like his odds against any of them in a fight.
They all had such strange energies about them, something that Ulfric would be found superstitious for if he disclosed it to anyone. It was almost as if he could feel the magic bleeding from their skin into the air around them, leaving Ulfric choking on the thick feeling in the room. The Archmage had it the worst; he had been scarcely able to breathe the few minutes they turned over the thief in the lecture hall. At least the Dragonborn didn't seem to carry such an aura. Come to think of it, neither did any of the other mages he had been around for more than a few minutes, not that that number was very impressive.
The air was better outside than it was inside, and if it weren't for the cold and snow, Ulfric had half a mind to walk down to the inn and sleep there. But it was warm inside and smelled of a soft spice that reminded Ulfric of Windhelm. Not in a sad way; thinking of Windhelm since it's capture was painful. Not this. This fragrance floated just above the thick air and left him comfortable and content, just as he had felt before the Civil War, watching as the nobles and Thanes in his court danced and drank enjoyed themselves in his home.
"Ugh." J'zargo muttered. He pulled back his sleeves and buttoned them up away from his hands. "Where has that been?"
Nariilu swallowed. "If you want some, you just need to ask." She took another bite of the flower, feeling a small bit of magicka spread from her stomach. She rolled her eyes when she saw that J'zargo's disgust wasn't a joke. "It never hurts to be prepared. Remember the last time we came down here?"
"My fur grew back."
Nariilu cast candlelight and let J'zargo lead the way, barely. She stepped into sync beside him and slightly behind. He could see much further than she could; her vision was limited to the reaches of the light, a dim, shaky thing that followed just behind her. "What have you learned about the Augur of Dunlain?" She asked, keeping her voice low.
"Only what Marence would say," J'zargo replied. He continued down the stairs to the winding crypt hallways. "An experiment that went foul. Then she started to criticize me about my own experiments. I ended the conversation."
"You should be careful."
"Why do you think J'zargo does not test his own scrolls?"
They both went quiet as they walked through the Midden, stepping over old skeever bones and empty bottles of alcohol and piles of ice and ash. "Do you know where we're going?" Nariilu asked after J'zargo confidently turned at a fork in the corridor.
"We are going to the Augur of Dunlain, of course."
"Do you know how to get to him?"
"Does this one?"
Alright, that was fair enough. She fired an ice spear at a Draugr patrolling just ahead. It hissed and turned. J'zargo finished it with a lightning bolt. He kicked the body as they passed, reaching down when he heard a jingle and pulled off a small coin pouch on its belt. He opened it to count out his coin as he walked.
"Why do you have a companion?" J'zargo poured the coins into his alchemy satchel and dropped the pouch. "You said-"
"I know what I said, J'zargo, and I wasn't going to put another in danger again," Nariilu snapped. She took a breath. "Sorry, that was harsh. I've been on the road all week, nothing but a single dragon to keep me occupied."
J'zargo shrugged.
"Stormcloak isn't a child playing adventurer," Nariilu continued. "He's not going to die because nobody taught him to use a sword." And nobody was going to banish her from Windhelm if Stormcloak died traveling with her.
J'zargo stumbled on an uneven stone and seamlessly regained his stride. "Neither is J'zargo. You stopped letting me travel with you."
"I had to fight in a war. Wars are more dangerous than bandits and Draugr, even for you." Nariilu walked over to the edge of the room, peering through iced-over bars. It was a small cell with a few bones strewn around and a new sleeping roll set over in the corner. No hidden hall in sight. She moved back to the center, resuming on the path with J'zargo. "Besides, it was between the Nords and Imperials. You'd have gotten bored watching Men hack at each other with swords and axes."
"Who is he?"
Nariilu thought for a while. Stormcloak was a lot of things: good, bad, level-headed, temperamental, powerful, renowned. "He was the Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion. He wanted Skyrim to be independent from the Empire," Nariilu said. She decided to leave out the part where he wasn't very fond of anyone who wasn't a Nord, or at least a Man. Though, she supposed the Forsworn were Men and he seemed to dislike them as much as any Altmer or Argonian. "The Empire wanted to me to kill him at the end of the war. I didn't. Stormcloak is too important, too influential. I'm never going to take my throne without his support."
"But he does not like you."
Was it that obvious that he was only barely beginning to do more than tolerate her? "You didn't like me when we first met."
"No, J'zargo did not care who you were. You impressed me," J'zargo admitted. Nariilu would've been touched if she weren't beginning to believe he was leading them in circles around the Midden. Still, remembering the look on his face when she cast Blizzard in the middle of the courtyard all those months ago made her smile.
But J'zargo was no Ulfric Stormcloak. J'zargo's apathy could be broken by favors or raw power, of which Nariilu had in droves. Stormcloak and his cryptic morals and honor didn't even seem to flinch when she quite literally devoured the soul of a dragon.
There was a flash of shimmering blue. J'zargo hit the ground before Nariilu had time to react. A ice wraith had flown into him with such force it knocked him down, gnawing at his face. J'zargo did his best to hold the wraith back by its snapping jaws, reluctant to use any spell so close to himself.
Nariilu leaped over, grabbing the wraith by its tail and yanking it off, throwing it at the wall. It hit with a crack as its physical body shattered like glass. It's essence, a glowing, shapeless orb, flew around wildly. The wisp hissed at them before disappearing through a wall. "Do you think it'll be back?" Nariilu asked, reaching down.
J'zargo took her hand and pulled himself up. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing. "J'zargo is fine, thank you for asking." His hands were scratched up and bleeding. Frost dotted his face where the wraith hit him and breathed, but Nariilu couldn't tell if he had frostbite through his fur.
Nariilu handed him a health potion. "I'd expect nothing else from the great mage." She took back the bottle once he finished half of it and hit the cork back into a seal. J'zargo stretched his fingers as the potion worked its way down.
"Your potions taste worse than I remember," J'zargo mentioned as they continued through the Midden.
"Learn to make your own," Nariilu replied, ignoring the small ember J'zargo flicked at her neck in response. She'd missed this banter. J'zargo could give life to even the drabbest cave with barely a glowing mushroom in it to make it worth their while.
She cracked open a door, peering around to catch any threats on the other side before they saw her. Seeing none, she swung it open with a loud creak. The hinges gave way and the door fell to the ground, knocking up a thick layer of dust. Nariilu cursed and sneezed.
"When is the last time anyone was here?" J'zargo asked, his voice muffled. He had pulled his hood around to hold in front of his mouth and nose. "We have come too far. The Augur is behind us."
Nariilu shook her head. "Look." She sent her candlelight around the small chamber, revealing flaking bloodstains over the walls and floor and broken, dusty alchemical supplies haphazardly stored along the walls. "Experimental magic, you said?" She walked into the room, sneezing again and kicking a glass vial, watching it roll into a black soul gem.
Books lay strewn around the room as if they were thrown, open to show pages that had decayed over however many years. Nariilu crossed the room, picking an exit door at random. J'zargo followed a comfortable few steps behind. She walked down the hallway briefly before stopping to examine a door decorated with bones and an Oblivion sigil. J'zargo leaned over her shoulder to get a better look. "J'zargo will wait at the door."
"Don't be a coward," Nariilu muttered, but she understood. Daedric Princes seemed to seek her out for one reason or the other, and she was worried that more of the less benevolent Princes would decide to name her their champion sooner than later. The Oblivion sigil meant Mehrunes Dagon may have some sort of shrine beyond the door, and Nariilu had grown up hearing enough stories of the Oblivion Crisis to leave her more than apprehensive about opening it. She stood at the door, building up the courage to open it and looking for a handle at the same time.
She turned, feeling the back of her neck tingle, noticing another, less ominous door behind her. Nariilu decided to try that one first, walking forwards and pulling then pushing on the handle. "There is no solace in knowing what is to come."
"Did you hear that?" Nariilu asked. J'zargo shrugged. Nariilu rolled her eyes; more strange magic. She tried the door again.
"Your perseverance will only lead you to disappointment."
Nariilu knocked on the door and waited. Then she knocked again. She backed up, readying to charge the door and ran at it, shoulder first. The door swung open right as she reached it. Nariilu slid to a stop just before she crashed into a low-wide well. J'zargo padded into the room behind her. "Good work," he said.
A bright light forced Nariilu to turn away. "Welcome to the Midden!" The Augur of Dunlain dimmed and Nariilu looked back.
"You're the Augur?" Nariilu asked. She was expecting something a little more…corporeal. J'zargo looked just as surprised.
"I am that which you have been seeking. Your efforts are in vain. It has already begun. But those who have sent you have not told you what they seek. What you seek."
"How is this about the Eye?"
The Augur flashed. "The Eye of Magnus is powerful. All power comes from the Knowledge that which you, which all who wield magic seek. Knowledge consumes, corrupts, destroys. Knowledge shelters you as you spiral towards your own destruction."
Nariilu could have choked. "Are you saying I'll die in my battle with Alduin?"
"I will not interfere with that which does not concern me. It is merely a warning, and not a warning to be interpreted with haste. The one who calls himself Ancano was a fool to scoff at the Knowledge he sought from me."
"Ancano came here?"
"He now lies dead, bringing about his own destruction, as is the fate of all who blindly tamper with Magnus' Eye."
"But he wasn't killed by the Eye," Nariilu protested.
"Yet his magic failed him when he needed it most. Nirn and its children are not equipped for the power the Eye holds."
"Tolfdir has done nothing but study the Eye," J'zargo mentioned.
"And he is a fool in search of Knowledge. To see through the Eyes of Magnus requires his Staff."
"And if we don't use the Staff?" Nariilu asked.
The Augur was silent. "Was this one listening?" J'zargo hissed. "Nirn will be destroyed."
"Now I have to save Nirn twice?" Nariilu snapped. She had half a mind to leave and let J'zargo clean up this Eye business. "Wait," she said, "If we don't tamper with the Eye, it'll be harmless. Is that what you're saying?"
"If you choose to remain idle, know the Eyes have remained dormant for millennia. They have also remained untouched for millennia. I advise you to take knowledge of the Staff to your Archmage." The Augur dimmed.
"Eyes, eyes," Nariilu muttered. She looked down to think. The Augur's glow was distracting her and making her head hurt. "You're saying there's another?" She looked up again; the Augur had disappeared, leaving them in darkness. She cursed and cast candlelight. "Wonderful. I have more questions than five minutes ago."
"Then we must ask them to the Archmage," J'zargo replied. He peered over the low wall into the well, and, finding nothing of interest, turned to leave. "Perhaps the Staff is hidden behind the Oblivion door."
"Don't even joke."
More Ice Wraiths attacked on their way out, led by the Wisp from earlier. Nariilu Shouted at them, Fire Breath. The one Word she knew was enough to leave them in half-melted piles on the ground. J'zargo stopped to collect what teeth he could. They exited into the courtyard. No one was around, and wind howled, trapped between the tall buildings, kicking up dry snow in little spirals.
"Go and rest," Nariilu told J'zargo. "I'll find out about this Staff. I'll be back soon; this shouldn't take too long."
J'zargo looked up, eyeing the moons in the sky, both near their peaks for the night. "Do not forget to sleep. I will not pick you up when you fall from your horse again." Nariilu pushed him just enough to make him take a step to regain his balance. J'zargo pushed back. "J'zargo will make sure the Man does not kill anyone else." He waved his goodnight.
Nariilu entered the Hall of the Elements and found Archmage Aren and Etienne still up. Etienne seemed to be demonstrating his skills with a quill while the Archmage nodded along. She cleared her throat to get their attention. "We have to find the Staff of Magnus," she announced.
"I'm sorry, what?" Archmage Aren asked. "I'd certainly love to have such a powerful staff, but I'm not sure any of us need it. It's rarely wise to have too many powerful artifacts in one place." Etienne began to say something but the Archmage held up his hand. Etienne shut his mouth.
"The Augur of Dunlain said tampering with the Eye is dangerous." The Archmage frowned at the mention of the Augur. "We need the Staff to keep it from killing us all. The Psijic Monk said-"
"You spoke with the Augur? I'm impressed with your initiative." The Archmage cut her off. She nodded. "Something as specific and ancient as the Staff of Magnus, surely you can comprehend the legends it holds. How many adventurers like yourself have died looking for it?"
"I'm no mere adventurer, Archmage," Nariilu argued. She crossed her arms and leaned against the cold stone wall. "The Psijic Monk said that the Eye would rip Mundus apart if I don't do something about it."
"Sorry, what?" Etienne interrupted. "That…that thing," he pointed at the Eye of Magnus floating benignly in the center of the hall, "can kill us all?"
"Most you will find in this College can kill us all," Archmage Aren confirmed. "So could a dedicated fox. It's not as much as an achievement as you make it seem. Regardless," He took a step closer to Nariilu. She stood up straight; his eyes betrayed a sort of anger in them, and Nariilu wasn't sure if she could take him in an honest fight if it came to that. "You've proven very enthusiastic in your studies despite your odd circumstances of enrollment. Keep this up and you'll do quite well for yourself, Scholar."
Nariilu blinked. "A promotion won't keep me from looking for the Staff."
"I know; however, it'll make your memorial service sound nicer when you die trying to recover it."
"Tell me where the Staff is so I don't have to go behind your back again," Nariilu said. "Save us both the trouble."
The Archmage walked away, stopping to look at the Eye. He spoke without turning. "Thank you, Etienne. That will be all for tonight. Nariilu, if you would please show him to Ancano's old chambers?"