The Dementia priest, Arctus, looked up at my approach.
"Sheogorath wanted me to ask about the process of replacing a Duke or Duchess," I said. I wasn't even going to bother asking Dervenin about Mania.
The priest made a thoughtful hmm sound and rubbed his chin. "Interesting. Not many wish to hear about such things, but I would be glad to oblige. Becoming the Duchess of Dementia requires passage through the Ritual of Accession, specific guidelines set forth by Arden-Sul himself. Did you want to hear the history of the Ritual?"
"No. Just tell me what I need to do."
"Very well. Spoken like a true daughter of the Demented. To become ruler of Dementia, the current leader's heart must be cut out and brought to the Altar of Arden-Sul in the Sacellum." He pointed to a basin on the altar. I grimaced. Cut her heart out? "Once this is done, I can pronounce the heart-bearer a Duke or Duchess. Then, all that is required is the blessing of our Lord, Sheogorath."
Sheogorath was still waiting in the pews when I finished speaking with Arctus. The Daedric Prince got to his feet, waiting.
"You're back!" He said. "How nice for you. Does that mean you've made a decision? Or are you lost? Suicidal? Just let me know."
"I have made my decision."
Before I could say any more, he held up a hand. "A friendly word of warning before you choose. Once you have decided which Duke to replace, there's no turning back. One choice. No more, no less. Try not to do something stupid." He abruptly banged his cane on the sacellum's floor. I jumped. "So, which is it? What will it be? Mania? Dementia? The suspense is killing me. Or you, if I have to keep waiting."
"I choose Syl," I told him.
He grinned wickedly. "A dangerous choice. I like it! She's gotten to be a bit much, anyway. Thinks everyone is out to get her. Which they are, in this case. So be it."
"What should I know before I try to take her down?"
"Syl is as crafty as she is beautiful. I'd watch my back if I were you. Oh, this is so much fun!" He chortled. "But first…"
He snapped his fingers. Once he'd gotten Arctus's attention, he called, "Bring the Raiment."
The priest rummaged around at the back of the room for several moments, returning with a bracelet wrapped in black velvet. At Sheogorath's approving nod, he placed it around my wrist. The instant it touched my skin it began to grow, sliding up my arm and over my body. When it was done, it had become a gown. The whole thing was black, trimmed with an abundance of ebony-colored lace. The skirt was full, the neckline both wide and low. The ends of the sleeves nearly covered my hands. I looked down at it, frowning.
"If you're going to be the Duchess of Dementia, you might as well look the part," Sheogorath said. "And, if not, it'll be far less messy this way. Bloodstains never show up well on black."
Shrugging my shoulders in irritation, I pointed out, "I can't fight Syl in a dress."
"Who ever said you would?"
He snapped his fingers and the fabric rustled again, reshaping itself into a suit of light, form-fitting armor. I held up a hand and stared at my fingers, suddenly covered in black material.
"And it can change back?" I asked.
"Any time you wish."
Interesting.
When I stepped into the throne room, bow in hand, Syl was nowhere to be seen. The room's only occupants were Anya and Kithlan sitting on either side of the throne, looking respectively nervous and sullen.
"Where's Syl?" I demanded.
Anya flinched and whispered, "She's staying well out of sight. No need to take unnecessary risks. She fears that Sheogorath no longer favors her presence and wants her replaced."
"And what if he does?" I asked her. "What would you do then?"
She stared at the bow in my hands. A slow smile appeared on her face and she looked at Kithlan. "Perhaps I've misjudged you. All right, I'll help. Just remember me when you take over her position. What can we do to help you?"
"I need to get close to her."
"That may be difficult," Kithlan cut in. "Syl has been hidden from public sight lately. Anya?"
She shrugged. "Well, the best I can offer is help with the guards. I can distract a few of them and get them to leave her wing of the palace. That should help you to get in there a bit easier."
"This may help as well." Getting to his feet, Kithlan fished around in his pocket and pulled out a small black key. Handing it to me, he said, "Take this key. It should unlock any door in her wing. You still need to be wary of the guards that Anya can't distract, but it should help."
Kithlan stayed behind in the throne room while Anya and I made our move. She went through the door at the end of the chamber which she said led into Syl's private gardens. I went through the side entrance off of one of the palace's outer halls. Once I was inside, I watched from the shadows as Anya streaked across the desolate garden. She said something in a hysterical voice to the guards on the other side. They followed her out, back into the throne room, and I made for the door.
The halls beyond were brighter than the rest of the Dementia wing. Cold-faced statues filled the chamber, casting eerie, flickering shadows in the light of the candles. Glowing blue-green mushrooms grew in planters set into alcoves along the hall. I nocked an arrow. Everything was too quiet. There weren't any guards. Why?
The hall led into a large bedchamber. Sprawled across the covers of the enormous bed was Syl.
I approached the body warily. Glassy eyes were aimed unseeingly at the ceiling above her. Her dark hair was in disarray. I lowered my bow. She certainly looked like the Duchess...
"Don't be fooled," Kithlan said, coming up to stand beside me. "The Ritual isn't over. The body on the bed isn't Syl; merely an impersonator. The real Syl uses many such decoys to throw would-be killers off her trail."
There was another set of footsteps and Anya appeared, looking worried. Kithlan sighed.
"Syl has made her escape through the hidden tunnel in the gardens outside her quarters. She must not get away."
I squared my shoulders and made for the door. "Right. I'm going after her."
"Be wary," the steward warned as he hurried to catch up with me. "I fear that her escape may be a ruse to lure you into an ambush."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Once we were back in the gardens, Kithlan pointed to an old stone bust of Sheogorath set into the courtyard wall.
"The tunnel is beneath that statue. There should be a switch on the back."
I reached around it and felt a small button on the other side. When I pressed it there was a low rumble. The statue turned around on its base and slid aside, revealing a metal ladder leading down into a dark hole. Nodding to Anya and Kithlan, I climbed down.
The tunnel below was so dark that I could hardly see a thing as I crept along. An arrow was ready should anyone appear. I strained to listen for any sign of life, but heard nothing. Ahead I saw a light. I cautiously walked toward it, bow at the ready.
The light came from another tunnel. Burning torches lined the walls. As I walked down it, I heard a rushing sound and barely stepped aside in time to avoid the fireball that streaked past. From my place against the wall, I peered down toward the end of the tunnel. There I could see a statue of some kind of daedric monster. As I watched, another fireball burst from its mouth and I hastily leaned back. Breathing hard, I steeled myself to run.
I winced as I felt the burn marks on my face melt away under the careful touch of my healing spell. What had first appeared to be a single tunnel turned out to be a labyrinth, the whole thing laced with traps in the form of those fire-spewing statues. As much as I hated to admit it, the armor that Sheogorath gave me kept away most of the damage from the flames.
Stumbling down the stairs at the end of the maze, I pushed open the door at the bottom as quietly as I could. On the other side was a large chamber. A bridge spanned the room, and on it two Mazken guards were waiting. I aimed and shot them down. Their bodies hit the chamber floor with a loud clattering sound. I cringed, waiting to see if anyone would appear to investigate the noise. No one did. When I was reasonably sure I was safe for the moment, I kept going up a flight of stairs and over the bridge.
On the other side of the bridge was a smaller chamber lit by flickering torches. It appeared to be a dead end. I glanced around, frowning. Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere? Back in the fire-trap maze, maybe? If so, why had Syl posted guards nearby? As far as I could see, there was nothing of importance in the room.
There was a rumble and a loud grinding sound. Suddenly a panel in the back wall slid down and two Mazken leapt out to attack me. I shot down the first before she could get close. The second swung a mace at my head. I ducked and kicked out one of her unarmored knees. Before she could scramble to her feet, I shot an arrow through her neck. With both of them dead, I climbed through the passage they had appeared from.
On the other side was a winding hallway that led down to a small room. Old purple tapestries covered the dark stone walls. All of the chamber's furnishings had been piled up against the door on the other side of the room and into a short barricade across the center. Drawing an arrow, I shot down one of the waiting Mazken before she even noticed that I was there.
I heard the sound of a bowstring being drawn back and ducked behind the doorway to avoid the arrow that a second Mazken shot at me. Nocking another arrow, I stumbled into the room. She fired again and I dodged before firing back. She cried out, dropping out of sight behind the makeshift barricade. I lowered my bow.
As I walked further inside, avoiding the silver bowls and goblets that lay scattered over the floor, I saw that the barricaded door was, in fact, the only door. I moved the chairs and overturned tables aside and tried to open it. No good. The damn thing was barred from the other side. I stepped back, pursing my lips. There had to be some way to get through. I looked around the room again, searching the floor and the alcoves around the walls for any kind of trapdoors or secret passages. Sure enough, I felt a button set into one of the walls, nearly invisible against the stone blocks. When I pressed it a panel in the wall slid down, revealing yet another passage.
I couldn't say I was really surprised at the number of traps and secret doors Syl had throughout the place. She wouldn't have lived up to her reputation of paranoia without them.
The tunnels led further and further down, barely lit by dim green flames. Outlines of twisted statues were barely visible at the edges of my vision and the sight of them made me shiver. In the distance I heard voices and armored footsteps. I readied an arrow. There was a flight of stairs ahead. I climbed them and shouldered open the door.
Below was a large chamber. A Mazken waited inside, as well as a Bosmer in similar, if not more elaborate, armor. Syl. I drew back the arrow, and–
The Mazken looked up, her eyes fixing on me. "Your Grace!"
She fell, my arrow sticking out of her throat. Syl saw me, her eyes narrowing. When I fired again, she ducked behind a nearby pillar. Dropping my bow, I drew my sword and hurried down toward her. When the Duchess reappeared, she hefted a massive, spiked hammer. I froze.
"You'll be but another notch in my hammer!" She shouted, swinging it at my head. I ducked and spun out of the way. I wasn't so lucky with her next strike. I managed to dodge the full weight of the blow, but the spikes still slashed across my upper arm. Gasping, I leapt back and looked down at the damage.
An ugly red gash cut across the skin, the spikes having torn through the armor. But, as I watched, the edges of the tear fluttered, stretching and looking almost like butterfly wings before sealing closed again.
When Syl ran at me, her face contorted with rage and her hammer raised high over her head, I stabbed her in the stomach with my blade. Her eyes bulged. The hammer fell from her hands, cracking the stone floor when it made contact with it. The Duchess stumbled back. Her lips were parted and a thin trail of blood trickled over them. She collapsed, dead at my feet.
I pulled out my knife. Steeling myself for what I was about to do, I knelt down beside the corpse.
Sheogorath, Arctus, and several Mazken were waiting by the altar in the Sacellum when I returned. Passing them, I dropped Syl's blood-drenched heart onto the altar. The instant it touched the surface, it burst into emerald flames and was gone.
"Once again has the Ritual of Accession come full circle!" Arctus cried. "The heart of Syl has been consumed by Arden-Sul's will, and the Demented welcome you with open arms. I now declare you to be Duchess of Dementia of the Shivering Isles! May your wrath and anger be your guide."
He bowed and stepped back. Sheogorath clapped me hard on the shoulder of the arm that had been injured in the fight. I winced.
"You've done it!" He crowed. "The Ritual is complete, and you've survived! Oh, who'd have thought? Now, onto other–"
"Wait! I must speak!"
I looked around to see Thadon entering the sacellum with a host of Aureal guards.
"Halt! Cease! Desist!"
Sheogorath glared at the Duke. "Thadon, how dare you interrupt me? Only I interrupt me. Like just then. I'm speaking with someone. We'll talk later. Or not. When is later, exactly? Not now, I'm sure of that. Guards. I think Thadon forgot how to use the door. Kindly show him out. Before I forget myself."
The guards all looked at each other, including the Aureals.
Thadon looked around at the small assembly, blinking in confusion. "Syl… my… Syl is dead? This can't be right? Is this right? What have you done? Have you done this?"
"Hold your tongue, little Duke, or I'll tear it from your mouth," Sheogorath growled.
The Duke's gaze suddenly turned on me. "But this… stranger?" Someone new? From somewhere else? Not here. I'm sure of that. I don't understand. Or I can't."
"Calm yourself, Thadon. You're making my teeth itch. You still hold your office. I suggest you see to your duties."
"Ridiculous!" The Duke scoffed. "You can't do this! Although… you're omnipotent. Or just tall. It's one of the two, I'm sure. And a fool!"
Sheogorath's golden eyes flashed. "Fool? Visionary! Change is in the air, Thadon. Breathe it deep! Bathe in its scent! Bottle it up. Save some for later."
"Order approaches. It's taken the Fringe already. With Order clothes and Order hats! And you speak of "change"?" Thadon snapped.
"Change will preserve us! It is the lifeblood of the Isles. It will move mountains! It will mount movements!"
The Duke of Mania watched the Madgod with cold eyes.
"No. No, certainly not. This isn't good. I'm sure it's bad. I can't do this anymore. No more."
"Then go, Thadon," Sheogorath said, shooing him away. "Have your Greenmote. Take a bath. But leave before I decorate my throne with your insides."
Backing away with a mocking bow, the Duke told him, "Yes, that's it. I'll go. Away. Far away. Working for them is like working for us, but without all the dying."
All of the Mazken and Aureals present drew their weapons. Sheogorath waved his hand to stop them.
"No! Let him go!"
Thadon stopped and looked over his shoulder at us, smirking. "I go to Jyggalag. I give myself to him, as a priest of Order. This isn't done, Madgod. I think it's just started."
