~ Chapter Nineteen ~

Never Meet Your Heroes

Dolores Hogarth laughed - high-pitched, chortling, hiding her mouth behind a hand. The laughter became a deep cackle, and quickly became more sinister.

"My, you're the smart one, aren't you lass?"

She placed a hand on her breast and took a steadying breath. "Goodness, you've given me the vapors, dear Mittens. I've not had such a profoundly accusatory accusation before. Look at you! So proud to have figured it out… and still get it wrong."

She cracked her cane on the floor and a sharp blaze of multi-colored light bloomed, a swarm of butterflies rising up, tearing apart Dolores to reveal an older man with white hair and a beard. The black dress gave way to a flamboyant purple and red doublet, yet the manic grin remained.

"Now, you're right," Sheogorath said.

The cat about his shoulders elongated and grew until a balding man in a black and red coat hung about the Prince's neck. His sudden change caused Sheogorath to stumbled and the two crashed to the floor.

"Damn it all, Haskill!" Sheogorath kicked himself free of the other man. "You ruined my dramatic entrance."

"Apologies, my lord," Haskill said, picking himself up and dusting Sheogorath off with a red handkerchief he pulled from his sleeve. "But I do not control the forms you grant me."

"Don't make this about you," Sheogorath said, waving Haskill away. "Aureals above, you fuss."

Amity and Luz exchanged a look before Amity turned back to Sheogorath. "Excuse my insolence, My Lord. But what are you doing here?"

"You summoned me," Sheogorath said, matter of factly. "There I was, nary a care in the world. Dangling some fool off the edge of the palace, when bang, boom, off I went." He stalked forward, glowering. "Alador's got a lot of explaining to do. Maybe a few fingers worth."

"Stop."

Sheogorath stopped. Puzzled, he looked down at his feet, moving them as if they were stuck in mud.

His angry gaze met Amity's horrified one. "You… have five seconds - nay, three - to release me, Mittens."

"I-I don't know…"

"Two."

"Please, I didn't mean-"

"One."

"Wait," Luz said, interjecting herself between Sheogorath and Amity. "Surely the great and powerful Lord Sheogorath would not stoop so low as to punish a mistake that resulted in such frivolity?"

Sheogorath's glower turned from Amity to Luz. "Of course, I would! Have you never met me? As someone who has, I can assure you, I would - and will."

"But, isn't this just what you were looking for?" Luz's mind was racing, barely thinking about what she was saying, save for a small nugget of thought that flew by - ' strange that I've met two Princes in just as many weeks.'

"Don't pretend to know what I am looking for girly." Sheogorath used his cane to grab Luz around the neck and pulled her close. "Time's up."

"But you needed something no mortal eyes had seen, right? Isn't Lord Sheogorath at the command of a talented conjuror just that sort of thing?"

Sheogorath's eyes - black except for gold irises and angular pupils - narrowed. "Haskill!"

"Yes, my lord," Haskill asked, having just finished dusting himself off, his tone as flat as it was as a cat.

"Are yee… mortal?"

"A complex question my lord, though for these purposes… no."

Sheogorath looked over Luz's shoulder at Amity. "But you are?"

"I'm the subject in this," Amity said, and Luz was pretty sure she'd caught onto the same gamble. "And you certainly are not mortal, my lord."

"But I am," Luz said. "See? One mortal, witness to something no other mortal has seen. A conjuror binding a Prince."

"You're going to stop saying that. Or I'll eat your tongue out of your head." Sheogorath snapped his teeth shut close enough to Luz's face that she felt blood bloom from a cut on her lip.

Sheogorath released her and shooed her away. "Well come on, Mittens. I've got better things to be doing than standing here all day."

"Ah… Release?"

Sheogorath picked up both his feet in a little jig and, content that he could move again, thrust his cane at Amity. "Now, Mittens. Let's make one thing perfectly, abundantly, dementedly clear. Do that again, and I'll make sure you live to see everyone in your family tear themselves to pieces. Tiny, bloody pieces. Wriggling, tiny, bloody, screaming, morsel-sized pieces. Clear?"

"Very." Amity bowed, Luz following suit. "My apologies, Lord Sheogorath. Had I known when I cast the spells, I would have at least afforded you proper respect."

"Oh, stop that." Sheogorath tilted them both back upright. "I hate groveling. Just call me Uncle Sheo. Now, come along lambs. We've got a library to peruse. Ooh, I can't wait." He let out a little squeal and hop-skipped through the open doorway.

Haskill stode by them, handkerchief to his nose. "Goodness. It will take me ages to get the aroma of Mundus from my clothes. Hop to it! You heard the Lord."

Amity and Luz shared a deep sigh of relief and then looked at each other.

"Humphrey's gambit from Memoirs? Really?" Amity asked.

"It worked."

"Do you even know what frivolity means?"

"Basically," Luz said, helping Amity step through the doorway. "Though, you need to tell me what tenacious means. You keep calling me it, and I'm pretty sure it's not an insult."

Amity waved her away. "Oh… it's just that you don't know when to give up."

"No, I do not," Luz said. "So… how did you summon a Daedric Prince? That seems like it would be a big deal."

"Summon and bind." Amity put her head in her hands. "Gods, if I knew, I'd undo it. Dad's notes didn't mention Lord Sheogorath. It's not his summoning day. And he's been playing along for almost two weeks now? 'Why' is a better question. And he's the Mad God. There is no 'why' for what he does."

Luz lapsed into her own thoughts as they traveled down the dark tunnel - a strange meshwork that was now distinctly lit by a green-yellow glow.

It was indeed odd that Sheogorath, a Daedric Prince, had subjected himself to being Amity's teacher, as well as disguising his form. Having experienced a Prince's power firsthand, it seemed that she and Amity were missing something important.

Not to mention how he had dropped the hint to Amity about 'when a door isn't a door, it's a wall.' It felt like he had wanted them to open the door. A door that he specifically could not see. So how did he know the hint to it?

And what did Saarthal, the orb, and Jyrik all have to do with the Library?

Luz tried to remember what she'd read from Memoirs of a Madman.

It was short and hard to read. A lot of the prose was edited from the original - for clarity - and while she'd heard there were other copies and additional volumes, she'd never seen them.

It followed Humphrey and Morgan's journey into the Shivering Isles, dealing with adventures in Passwall, defeating the Gatekeeper and a steady supply of ghastly horror as they tried to travel through the lowlands of Dementia to New Sheoth. At some point, Morgan and Humphrey parted ways over a dispute, but there was clearly an amount of cut information that Humphrey had not expanded on.

From then, he'd traveled up to Mania, gotten drunk, drugged, robbed, and lost until he met Morgan again at some shrine, where he saw Morgan light himself on fire and carry the 'Sacred Flame' to New Sheoth, where Humphrey remained.

He mentioned living in Bliss for a while, occasionally meeting with Morgan, who seemed to be steadily descending into his own madness.

The last mention of the Champion was a poem that seemed to be an esoteric elegy to the Champion but descended into a list of items that were presented for burial.

The book ended with a series of poems that also got steadily more deranged as they went on, ending with a song called 'We're All Mad Here' that Humphrey claimed to have gotten the Mad God's attention with.

He ended up moving to the Palace soon after the Greymarch had ended and Sheogorath had defeated Jyggalagg.

The speech she had given Sheogorath was from when Humphrey had reunited with Morgan and had first met Sheogorath. Inadvertently insulting the Prince, he claimed to have presented him with the same logic - that if it was a funny insult, the Mad God should appreciate it.

It had worked in the story, and it was only now - after having met two Princes, namely one from said story - that Luz started to wonder if Humphrey had more than a general retelling of the stories.

"Luz…"

Luz abandoned her thoughts as Amity pulled on her robe's sleeve, causing her to look around the room they had emerged in

At its heart was a massive, twisting tree, luminous butterflies circling it. Its roots dug down through the green-black mesh, vanishing into darkness further than Luz could see.

Carved out of the tree in clusters, were bookshelves, crammed with tomes of every shape, size, and color Luz could think of.

A ramp, made of gently pulsing green vines, twisted around the tree, leading up to platforms above.

Craning her head back to try and see the top, Luz felt a wave of vertigo overcome her, as if she was looking down from a great height - but not before she saw a shape duck back around the edge of one of the platforms.

Amity caught her shoulders, steadying her as Luz shook her head. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just… a long way up."

"Well, walk faster," Sheogorath said from astride Haskill's shoulders. "Young people today, Haskill. Giddy up!"

Haskill let out an audible sigh and did his best to walk up the ramp, knees shaking from the weight of his lord.

"How are we supposed to find anything here?" Luz asked, politely slipping by Haskill with Amity. "There must be hundreds of books here."

"There should be a keeper to the library," Amity said. "That's what I've read at least. But details are sparse, to be generous."

The pair of them reached the first landing and stopped.

Squatting in the center of the platform, surrounded by a dozen books, was a pale-looking man. Or, at least, what was once a man. His limbs were overly long, and his fingers sported long nails, a couple of them caked with black ink. His face was what made Luz recoil though.

It was a lipless, ear-less visage, eyes long since sealed shut by the fungal growth that consumed half of his head, tangled with the thinning grey hair that hung like morbid cobwebs from thin mushroom stalks and shelves.

Between its teeth were a few pages of a book, black ink spilling down his chin like fresh blood.

Despite his inability to see, their voices and footsteps had clearly been enough to alert him. The figure stood and turned in one fluid motion, arms swinging like a half-controlled puppet.

He croaked something at them, but as Luz cast a look to Amity, it was clear she didn't know what to do either.

The creature croaked again, holding up his hands - thin and curling things, twitching at the tips, reaching for them.

"Ah," Amity tried. "Are you… the Librarian?"

Another croak, but his head twisted to Amity, the growths over his eyes splitting open, green-blue filaments extending toward her.

Luz took a breath in an attempt to recover her sudden nausea again, just as Haskill came up the ramp, panting from carrying the Mad God. He dropped to his knees, allowing Sheogorath to march forward over him.

"Featherwilt, you old bean. How are you doing?" Sheogorath asked, shoving between Luz and Amity, arms flung wide.

"Humphrey? Featherwilt?" Luz asked, incredulous.

"But…" Amity tripped over her words for a second. "He'd be over three hundred years old. He should be long dead."

"Not when you feed him only the finest Gnarl ambrosia," Sheogorath said. "And some other things…"

Humphrey croaked again, leaning in close to Sheogorath, the feelers from the eye sockets running over the Mad God's face briefly before recoiling as if burned. The whole man crumbled to the floor, curling into a ball, whimpering.

"Now, now," Sheogorath said. "Is that any way to greet an old friend, Humpdee? It's been years! At least a decade? Century? Ah, who counts these things? No matter. I need a book. And then you can aide these fine ladies."

Humphrey made some horrible sucking sounds and Luz came to the sudden realization that he was speaking but had no tongue or lips to form the words he was saying - or, at least, thought he was saying. With the way his ears had been sealed by the growths, he likely couldn't hear them either, nor himself.

"What… happened to him?" she asked, her feet frozen to the spot.

"I did," Sheogorath said, a dark look passing over his face. "Now. Humpdee. Book. The Book. You know the one."

A series of croaking and gurgles before Humphrey held out his hands.

"What do you mean, gone? How do you lose something like that?"

More traumatic gurgling.

"Damn the Seekers!" Sheogorath exploded, whipping his cane around, making Humphrey, Luz, and Amity duck. It cracked into the tree, causing hundreds of butterflies to dissolve into being from the spark of light. "I lock up the one blasted thing He wants, in a place He can't get it, and He's got it? What cheek! Cheat! Philanderer! I'll flay Him, eyeball to slimy eyeball!"

Luz couldn't stop herself. "Who?"

Sheogorath rounded on her and Luz had a brief flash of fear, a memory of wine in her lungs, blood in her nose.

"Who? Who, who?" He laughed a little, putting his hand to his eyes. "Who who… ha! Who! An owl's got the wisdom, the dragon's got the voice. But He Knows Things and who am I, but a Mad God!"

He doubled over, shaking, before he threw back his head, hideous laughter echoing through the branches.

Luz and Amity backed away, both very aware of their squishy mortal bodies. Humphrey likewise retreated quickly to the edge of the platform, hiding behind a moldy armchair.

"My Lord," Haskill said, daring to approach Sheogorath. "My Lord? Far be it for me to question the time for uncontrollable mirth, but-"

"Yes!" Sheogorath spun, his cane twisting around and with a flash it drove through Haskill's stomach, a black blade emerging from the other side. "Yes, it is far from you, Haskill." He turned away, leaving Haskill to crumple to the floor around the sword that lay within him, while Sheogorath stormed off, giggling to himself.

Luz made her legs move and she slid down next to Haskill, turning him over.

"Haskill?"

The man sighed. "I do wish he'd find a better outlet. Third coat this month."

"Are you alright?"

He glowered at her and sat up with a groan. "Of course I'm alright. If you could remove the sword, however, I'd appreciate it."

Luz took the handle of the blade and pulled it free, getting a good look at it.

It was made of a black metal, with flecks of gold turning to pure veins, running the length of it. The hilt was a tangle of twisted, ruddy brown metal - like dried blood. In the center, an eye was carved, like one you would think you saw in a knot of wood.

Gripping the black leather of the handle, she could feel it twisting under her palm like it was alive. A strange feeling of dread and sadness started to overcome her, and her skin started to prickle, like during a lightning storm.

"At least it wasn't the Dawnfang," Haskill was muttering. "Burn marks are always so much worse to repair. The withering of Witchbane, however -" he reached out and tried to pluck the sword from her hands. "Is not to be taken lightly. Best to return that to the Lord-"

The sword screamed, a red blaze running up the blade to cut at Haskill's fingers. The leather grip wrapped around her fingers, then her arm, cutting into her robes and bruising the skin.

"Ah," Haskill said, withdrawing. "It's taken a shine to you. Always did hate me, that one. Very well, if it insists. Return the blade to the Lord, Mss Luz. And be quick about it, lest it takes your arm. Humphrey! The Lady Blightward needed a book."

Luz tried not to think about what Haskill had said as she hurried up the ramp where Sheogorath had gone.

Everything was crumbling down around her ears, like a house made of puzzle pieces. Humphrey and Sheogorath. Witchbane?

She looked at the sword in her hand and felt a great deal of conflict well up in her.

On one hand, she was holding the Blade of the Champion. On the other hand, it was trying to cut its way into her skin with a leather strap that was starting to show teeth, already twisting up to her shoulder.

She reached the next platform, finding Sheogorath sitting on an ornate bench, carved to look like a rather lewd depiction of two spriggans.

Then one of the heads turned to look at her and Luz forced herself to stop thinking about it.

"Ah, Lord Sheogorath?"

He looked up, the manic grin she had been getting used to replaced by a calm and serious demeanor, which was actually more off-putting.

"Yes?"

She held up her hand. "Ah… Haskill wanted me to return this… to you." She winced - her whole arm was going numb.

Sheogorath nodded. "Aye. He doesn't bleed, my chamberlain. Stopped him from doing that ages ago. Best feed it, girl. Or it will take what it wants from you."

"Huh?" Sheogorath mimed Luz drawing the blade across her other hand and Luz swallowed. "Oh."

"It's just a little blood," he said, turning back to gaze at the floor. "What's that to you?"

"Well, I like my blood."

"In you? Or out?"

"In."

"Then let some of it out. Witchbane will take your whole arm and then you will have a lot less in you than on you."

Luz sucked in a breath and laid the sword in her hand. It was warm, and when she drew it back, pain bloomed through her whole body, but was quickly replaced by a gentle warmness, an uncomfortable combination.

The leather slackened and slowly withdrew, snaking back under her palm.

Pins and needles rushed into her arm, and she held the sword out to him.

The Mad God took it, holding the blade carefully in his hands, as Luz's blood vanished from the blade, like water on sand.

"So…" Luz sat down next to Sheogorath. "You… want to talk about it?"

"You are foolish," Sheogorath said, looking at her sidelong. "Or fearless. One is often the other I find."

"I see why you got along well with Amity," Luz said. "You both talk around your compliments."

"Oh, my dear lass," Sheogorath said. "It wasn't much of a compliment. More of a tempered warning."

"If you keep pushing people away with threats, you won't have many people left."

"Not many people left without them." Sheogorath spun the sword deftly over the back of his hand and somewhere between there and when he caught it again, it had returned to his cane. "At least there aren't any new ones."

He stood and offered Luz a hand. "Let it never be said that the Mad God has no manners."

Luz let him take her hand and draw her up again, realizing only as she stood that her hand was still bleeding.

Without thinking about it, Sheogorath started to lick his hand clean of her blood, as Martin did after stuffing a boiled cream tart into his face.

"So," Luz said at long last, trying to look anywhere but at him. "Amity, huh? A pretty powerful mage, right?"

"You're really looking for an excuse for me to eat your tongue, hm?"

"What's the deal with tongues?" Luz asked, throwing her arms up. "First Eda, then you. Sanguine wasn't so eager, and I'm pretty sure he wanted to. I've seen that look before." She cringed. "Eugh."

"Who was that now?"

"Sanguine?" Luz turned back to Sheogorath. "Figured you would know one of your fellow Princes."

"No," Sheogorath said, frowning. "The other one. Eda? That wouldn't be Edalynnae Clawthorne, would it?"

"I never heard Edalynnae," Luz said. "I just called her Eda. But she mentioned you before. Oh, did she lose a bet to you about Hooves?"

Sheogorath slapped his knee, his wide grin returning. "Ha! Oh, she's still stuck with that thing, is she? Ho-oh, the poor lass. I'd have guessed she'd tried to have killed him by now."

"Nope," Luz said. "Still alive and kicking, as far as I know. Say… you wouldn't be willing to tell me what happened, would you?"

"Not on your despicably short life," Sheogorath said. "Eda… and how would you know her?"

"She's my mentor."

Sheogorath narrowed his eyes at her, down to golden glints. "You're lying."

"I swear, I'm not. How else would I know the 'most powerful witch in Skrim'?"

"I suppose. Never really saw her as the teaching type."

Luz shrugged, smugly. "Well, maybe you don't know her as well as you thought you did."

"It's true," Sheogorath sighed. "I've been away for a while. So much to do, so little time."

"You're immortal."

"Doesn't mean the rest of you are."

Luz opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. "You've got a point."

"I've always got a point."

Sheogorath let his comment hang in the air for a few minutes, long enough to make anyone else uncomfortable.

Luz, however, took it as a challenge.

"I'm sure that you have better things to do - like you said - than help a mere mortal with her academic studies. And Amity is powerful and all, but from what Humphrey wrote about you, almost no one can tell you want to do.

"And if Humphrey is still around, is Morgan alive too? You have his sword… I just thought…"

"Anyone ever tell you," Sheogorath asked, scowling. "That you ask too many questions?"

"Several," Luz said. "Do you think this library has the missing volumes of the Memoirs? Did you ever read about the Champion? An immortal Mad God, like yourself, should really take the time to savor everything the world has to offer. I know the writing can be a bit much sometimes, but they aren't all that bad-"

"Bad?" Sheogorath let out a mirthless laugh. "That drivel 'Hum Wilder' printed deserves to be burned. He couldn't stop himself, even though I tried. He's lucky I left him his hands."

"You don't seem to care for him," Luz said. "What could he have done to upset a Prince so much? Did you eat his tongue? Ew… that was a thought…"

"Mephala's mammories," Sheogorath cried. "Enough. No more talking for you." He slapped his hand over Luz's mouth and a sharp pain shot through her.

Her hands shot to her mouth, only to find thread stitched across her lips, holding her mouth shut.

Sheogorath smiled and hummed. "Ah. Peace and quiet. No, don't faint on me now, little mortal. You wanted to have a game of twenty questions. We've got time." He shoved her back onto the spriggan-bench and sat down opposite her, a gleam in his eye.

Luz slowly took her hands away and tried not to think about her breathing through her nose. Couldn't panic in front of the Prince. It was what he wanted, and if she wanted answers, she needed him to talk.

"So," Sheogorath said, leaning his chin on his hands, resting on his cane. "You want to know about Humphrey?

"Long story short, he annoys me. Still does. Until I've burned every last one of those damned books, he's going to serve as the librarian here, in my little slice of Apocrypha. Old Woodland Man lost it a while ago, adrift on the Waters of Oblivion, until I had an old student of the College anchor it here. Nice fellow. Hecubba Gauldur. Thought that he could fly to Secunda and rediscover Lorkhan.

"Professional tip? Doesn't work like that.

"But Humphrey… no, he pissed me off too many times too many. I was patient with him. I took his tongue so he couldn't sing that infernal song anymore, but then he just started to eavesdrop.

"So I took his ears too.

"Then he wouldn't stop scribbling away. Used up all the ink in Bliss and Crucible. Started using his own blood, and other people's blood. Well, I couldn't have that. New Sheoth isn't a particularly ordered place, but it's as safe as anywhere else.

"Can't have the citizens killing each other in the streets willy-nilly. That's what Thumping Turdas is for."

He twisted his hand, producing a glass of smooth green liquid that fizzed. Taking a sip, he offered it to Luz. "Where are my manners?"

Luz shook her head, and Sheogorath shrugged. "As for the Champion's sword? It's mine. Won it off him. Damned fool he was. Got himself killed against Ol'Jyggy. Shame. Handsome fellow. Good corpse."

He waved a hand to the ramp. "As for your little lass down there, scurrying about for those stuffy Psijics - she made a mistake. What am I going to do? Punish her for some minor frivolity?"

He smiled at her and Luz frowned. She tried to mumble something but even a twitch of her lips made her squirm, her guts tying themselves in knots.

Sheogorath chuckled. "Oh, how horrible it must be for someone with so many questions to have no mouth. Well, how about it's your turn? I'll take the threads away and you can answer some of my questions."

He waved his hand and Luz felt the threads snap. She gasped for air, wiping at the blood dripping down her chin.

"So, Little Puddle," Sheogorath said. "Is your Mami worried about you? Feeling any quilt about running off? Not telling her what's happened to you. Nor how many times you've almost died.

"Do you think Edalynnae will actually teach a lump like you any magic? Now that her son wields power like the Voice? You only know the two spells, and you can't even use them all that well.

"You and I both know you're a squib. A dud. That the only thing you'd amount to is a barmaid. All your grand adventures - your Champion? They're lies. Humphrey was a great storyteller, but one wasn't what he thought he could sell, and the other was what the first needed to be.

"How can you become what you've idolized, when it was all a lie anyway?"

Luz smirked through the small drips of blood on her lips.

"How'd you know all that?"

"I'm asking the questions," Sheogorath snapped. "To wit- why are you smirking?"

"Because you're just trying to get under my skin." Luz folded her arms and crossed her legs, trying to look down her nose at him, like Ancarno did. "Of course I feel guilty about not telling my Mami everything. Do I think she should know everything? Yes. But can she get up here? No. So I'm not going to worry her.

"Eda sent me here because she needs to focus on Martin right now. And yeah, she's not the most law-abiding person, but I can tell she's honest - deep down."

"Deep down," Sheogorath said.

Luz ignored him. "Magic doesn't come easy for me. But that just means I have to work harder and smarter. I can do that.

"As for Humphrey and the Champion - just because a book was more fiction than not, doesn't mean that my feelings for the characters are different. I still look up to Morgan for his clear head and proud heart. His courage, even in the face of defeat.

"Even if some of those deeds aren't his, I've still tried to live my life by them. Honor, decency, bravery. Doing the right thing, even if it's the hardest thing."

She leaned back. "So, Morgan LeFhrey. Tell me who you really were, if you weren't all those things."