A/N: I don't know that I've seen Dremora summon other Dremora ingame, but they can certainly summon Xivilai, and I've seen skeletons summon other skeletons.

Chapter 6

Merodach swore viciously all the way down the ramp. It ended in a narrow circle of walkway with a lever on one wall. Merodach dropped the Sleeper in a heap so that he could pull it. The rusty, bloodstained platform rose upward with a creak, impelled by the enormous drive shaft beneath it. The clannfear watched it rise.

Merodach nudged Sodrinye onto the platform with one boot. She hooked a hand into one of its circular holes as it started down again, triggered by her weight. Merodach shook his head, watching the corpse masher descend noisily back toward the spikes meant to fill the holes.

About an inch above the top of the spikes, Sodrinye let go and rolled off to one side. She dropped the last ten feet or so and landed with a thump that Merodach heard even from the top of the shaft. She rolled to one side bonelessly, and then she was hidden by a rapidly converging crowd of leathery bodies.

All movement stopped. The six lesser daedra stood at quivering attention, tails straight out behind them. One dark hand rose up out of their midst. Sodrinye groped along a motionless creature's head until she grasped the horn on the end of its beaked nose, then levered herself calmly upright. She spoke, lips moving in words Merodach could not hear. The clannfear shook themselves and moved away, resuming their endless pacing. Sodrinye stumbled out of Merodach's view under the rim of the walkway.

Merodach watched for a while. The clannfear did not once pause again, or make any sign that they knew Sodrinye was still there. Eventually he said to himself, "Dagon's bloody fists," and turned and stamped back up the slope to the platform.

Menien Goneld raised his head as Merodach entered his view. He had evidently been looking down the shaft as well.

"What in every burning Hell was that?" he said.

"I have no idea," Merodach said. "It is not a usual krynv – mage trick. Nor do I know what she wished me to tell you. She has told me almost nothing."

"She said she was a Sleeper," the mortal said. "I thought you demons didn't sleep."

"For the most part, we do not, if I understand the word in your filthy tongue," Merodach said. "Yet she is seldom conscious enough to speak. She seems to possess some form of... I am not sure of the word. In the Kyntongue it is ebedan, foresight without the shedding of blood."

"She's a natural diviner?" said Goneld.

"Perhaps. She is a mage of some power, while she is aware of her surroundings. The rest of the time she can no more defend herself than one dead."

Goneld glanced downward. "But she's still not getting eaten."

"So I see," Merodach said.

"I don't see why you're telling me this," Goneld said. "You know she's never going to make it to Nirn."

"Silence," Merodach said. "Damaris is returning."

The footsteps from the walkway outside drew nearer, and then his fellow caitiff shoved the door open and entered the Reaper's Sprawl. Like most female kyn, she carried a bow slung at her back for enemies in the field and a long belt dagger for those closer to home.

"Hail, Ebel-Merodach," she said cheerily. She was accounted among the more attractive of the caitiffs, with scars all up the side of her face and neck from spellfire. One might question the provenance of such a perfect set of marks in a place where they were visible in full armor, especially since both her eyes were intact. One would not, however, be wise to make this inquiry of Damaris. Besides, everyone in the unit occupying the Citadel had seen the duel in which she acquired them.

"Hail, Damaris," Merodach said, eyeing her with cool appreciation. "How went the fight?"

"Brief," she returned. "Mishael is a cautious kynaz. He would not challenge one whom he could not defeat." She grinned, fingering her dagger hilt. "And when he finds his way back, Abednego will not easily rise above churl again."

"Indeed." Merodach grinned back. He shared the joke. Everyone in the unit also knew Abednego had once insulted Damaris, and she had been finding ways to make his life harder every since. "I am somewhat surprised you allowed Mishael to challenge him first."

She shrugged. "Now that he is gone, I cannot torment him further until he returns." Damaris shot Merodach a speculative look. "I am sure I will grow very bored between now and when our new kynval arrives."

Merodach did not get a chance to answer, because then he heard footsteps on the ramp outside. The door creaked open to admit a kynaz in full armor, except for the helm at her belt. Daedric armor looks exactly like Dremora armor in every way. The difference is felt rather than seen. Merodach perceived it easily. This kynaz had worn her armor for so long that it had become, in some sense, part of her. Her hair was cropped very short, probably a necessity of the neat grid of scars that crisscrossed her skull and her visible face and neck. She has been the prisoner of another clan. Sometimes, though not invariably, scars that were earned shortly before death would return with the next incarnation. These must surely be of that type. Even if a prisoner of war managed to escape, her own clan would never trust her again.

"Hail, kynval," Merodach said. It was not a guess. There was nothing else she could possibly be. He kept his face impassive, hiding any admiration for her scars that might suggest he could be manipulated rather than commanded.

The other kynaz looked briefly from Merodach to Damaris. "Which of you is on duty?"

"I am," Merodach said.

"Out," the kynval said to Damaris. The caitiff bowed her head briefly and departed. The kynval turned back to Merodach. They looked at each other for a moment. "You are the caitiff Ebel-Merodach," said the kynval.

"Yes, kynval," said Merodach.

"The one who found Belteshazzar," said the kynval.

"Yes, kynval."

"And is his soul to your count?" she said.

"No, kynval," Merodach said promptly. "He was torn by lesser daedra. I nearly was as well." From the corner of one eye, he saw Menien Goneld had resumed his regular quarter-turns inside his cage, but he had no doubt the prisoner was still listening.

"So I hear," said the kynval. She folded her arms. "But that is not true."

Merodach did not rise to this. After a moment the kynval said,

"I knew Belteshazzar before he was assigned here. He could hardly have summoned one scamp, and even he could have defended himself from such a creature."

Merodach shrugged. "He was all over the walls when I found him, kynval. The room contained a daedroth and two clannfear. It seems unlikely they could have wandered in from outside."

"No, the outer door is kept locked," the kynval said. "Nor does it seem likely you could have summoned three such yourself. And your injuries when Mishael found you certainly were not self-inflicted."

"I have not the means of inflicting the marks of daedroth jaws on myself in the absence of a daedroth, no," Merodach said dryly. The kynval raised an eyebrow at this borderline insubordination. Merodach did not lower his gaze.

"You are old for a caitiff," she said.

"Yes, kynval."

"How old?" she demanded.

"Twenty-five hundred souls, kynval," Merodach said.

The kynval considered this. Merodach was fairly sure he knew what she was thinking. If he had indeed killed Belteshazzar, yet refused to count that soul or claim his rank, it would be because he had not done the killing by demonstrably honorable means. And one who would kill someone else of his own clan for a reason unconnected with soul count was likely to be dangerous to his next superior, particularly if he was old enough to be a physical threat.

This particular kynval did not strike him as stupid, however. And it was equally obvious that Merodach was both not a krynvelhat and could not have gone from outside the Citadel (where clannfear and daedroths might reasonably be found) to the Rending Halls while injured as he had been when Mishael found him.

It was not entirely impossible, from those circumstances, to deduce Belteshazzar's death at the hands of a very powerful mage.

Merodach wondered whether the kynval would conclude he was an accomplice, or merely that he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He supposed what had actually happened was unlikely enough that she would not guess at it.

He was only partly wrong. It was not a guess.

"Caitiff," said the kynval. "Do you know why we occupy this Citadel?"

"No," Merodach said. "We found little treasure here, and its lands are not desirable."

"But you did find a cage," said the kynval.

"Belteshazzar found it, yes," Merodach said. She could have, and probably had, learned that from the krynvelhat caitiffs who had examined it. Enough other members of the unit had seen the dark kynaz that Merodach was not at all surprised by the next question.

"And you saw what was inside it," said the kynval.

"Yes, kynval," Merodach said. "There was a kynaz inside."

"And what manner of kynaz was she?" said the kynval.

Merodach shrugged again. "Unconscious. Very ugly. Thin. I assumed she was ill or cursed."

"And you knew that Belteshazzar took her for a plaything," the kynval said.

"As was his right as ranking officer, yes," Merodach said. The kynval snarled suddenly, hand moving to the pommel of her belt dagger.

"Worthless fools! I should kill you where you stand. I would kill Belteshazzar, were he not dead already. Do you not know what you have permitted him to do?"

"No, kynval," Merodach said. His confusion was only partly feigned. He was beginning to have an inkling, however. He stood perfectly still in the face of the kynval's anger. To Merodach's practiced eye, she had five thousand souls if she'd a single one. And if she did kill him, he would not be free from his debt. He would merely be a debtsworn thrown back to the churl caste with no souls to his name, all his work wasted, and since he would certainly coalesce at the Citadel of his first incarnation, he would have to find his way all the way back here as well.

"Our Lord's spies learned that the master of this Citadel had in his possession a great treasure indeed," said the kynval. "A kynaz who could see the future, stolen in war from another clan. A powerful krynvelhat who is seldom aware long enough to speak. Do you take my meaning now, caitiff? Belteshazzar had orders to find and preserve the cage. He apparently assumed that meant he was free to do as he wished with what was inside it."

"No one has seen this kynaz since Belteshazzar's death," Merodach said.

"I know," growled the kynval. "His death at the claws of creatures he could not summon. The Sleeper could have done so easily. No doubt she somehow made her escape while you were busy bleeding on the floor, caitiff."

"Then she cannot have gone far," Merodach said. "Not if she cannot remain conscious for long." He pretended not to hear the sound of the corpse masher ascending behind him. The kynval did not appear to notice.

"It will make no difference to you," said the kynval. "Perhaps you have not been deliberately negligent, but you have had enough hand in this disaster that you cannot be allowed to live." She drew her bow and an arrow in one smooth motion. "And you have caused enough annoyance for me that your death will not be quick. Would you like to guess what is on this arrow, caitiff?"

"No," Merodach said. "All things considered, I think I would not."