And once again I must apologise for my appalling lateness! I've been away for a few months on a boat, which didn't leave much opportunity for writing (and no opportunity for netting!). But all the same… I've been thinking I should get a Beta, if nothing else they could kick my arse until I get writing! If anyone's interested send me a PM.
Chapter 12 – Splatypus
Vicente turned another page in the volume of forgotten lore over which he pondered, as he sat reclining upon a cushioned seat, the light of the dying fire working its shadow on the floor. The vampires eyes stayed trained on the text as he took a sip from the glass of port on the little table next to his chair, and spoke; "Good evening, Belisarius."
The aging Imperial man stepped out of the shadows which could not conceal him from the vampire's superior senses. "Vicente," he greeted. "I trust you are settling in to your new position?"
"It's quite a bother," the vampire murmured. "But a temporary one, and the perks are rather nice." He took another sip from his glass, "an excellent vintage, and very difficult to acquire." He raised his glass to toast to his fellow Speaker in thanks. "Can I pour you a glass?"
"Thank you," the Imperial smiled, pulling up another violet velvet lined chair. "These are difficult times, as you are aware," the Speaker began.
"I understand," interrupted the vampire, handing his visitor a glass of the deep purple liquid. "The disappearance of our Listener has everyone on edge, especially after the unpleasantness of that traitor business." Vicente placed a marker in his tome before closing it and setting it on the table next to his port. "And I suppose many feel… undermined… by my – ah – rather convenient reassignment before the purification."
Belisarius nodded slightly, taking a sip from his own glass. "Arquen in particular resents your promotion to Speaker status, and while she would not have dared act against you when you had the support of our Listener, now that she is gone…" the Imperial allowed the sentence to hover meaningfully.
"Gone?" Vicente's pale eyebrows raised in inquiry. "I had not heard from her for some time, but I assumed her duties had her occupied."
"Did you not know of the plan between her and Lucien Lachance?" It was the Imperial's turn for raised eyebrows. "I thought they would have included you; Lucien trusted you so."
"You do not believe that Lucien was the traitor?" he inquired shrewdly.
"It makes no sense," shrugged Belisarius. "Lucien was far too intelligent to form such a plan when he has had unrestricted access to the Black Hand for years."
"But you went with the Black Hand to Apple Watch," the vampire stated. "You would have helped kill Lucien along with the others."
"Certainly," the Imperial admitted nonchalantly. "Lachance was unpopular with the Black Hand; professional jealousy no doubt, but I had to choose a side, and I judged that Arquen would be the victor. Besides," he took another sip of port, "it has been far too long since I partook in a kill."
"You mentioned a plan between Lucien and Loria," Vicente inquired impassively.
"Yes indeed," Belisarius nodded, setting his glass down on the table beside Vicente's book. "You know, no doubt, that Lachance disappeared from the house where we had him cornered." Vicente inclined his head in acknowledgement, and Belisarius continued. "It has come to light that he teleported away by means of a scroll given to him by Loria for that express purpose. Where he went is unknown, even to the Listener herself, but it seems she is determined to find out, hence her recent disappearance."
"You believe she has gone wherever Lachance has gone?"
"Our intel is that she hasn't yet found out; or rather, she knows where the scroll goes, but has yet to find a means to get there."
"Then where is she?" asked the vampire. "And where is Matthieu Bellamont?"
"That remains unknown." The Imperial leant forwards in his chair, lowering his voice conspiratorially; "and that, as much as anything, has me worried."
Vicente smiled inwardly; as he sensed that they were finally nearing the reason for Belisarius' impromptu social call. "And why is that?" he prompted.
Belisarius licked his lips nervously, he had judged that Vicente was trustworthy enough to confide his concerns, yet in this business it always paid to play things close to your chest. Nonetheless, he could not pursue this on his own. "I believe the Bellamont may be the true traitor."
"What makes you say that?"
"I still believe that the traitor had links with the Cheydinhal sanctuary, and given recent events, they would have had to have access to the Black Hand in some form." He paused; presumably for dramatic effect, Vicente thought. "That leaves Lucien and Matthieu. Bellamont was furious that Lachance escaped; far more so than I would have expected. It seemed… personal."
"It may be that he blamed Lucien for the deaths of his former sanctuary colleagues," the vampire reasoned.
"From what I understand he didn't get along with them all that well; he never expressed any dismay over the purification. If anything, he was… pleased. Moreover, it has come to my attention that he has an unhealthy sway over other members of the Black Hand. Arquen, in particular, seemed upset at his disappearance. His absence has weakened her…"
Ah, the point emerges, thought Vicente. He gave Belisarius a long hard calculating look, then, setting his port down once more, he stood and strode over to his desk. Taking a key from his pocket, he unlocked his bottom drawer and extracted a musty old book, still smelling faintly of decaying flesh. Returning to his seat, he handed the book to the Imperial man, who took it gingerly, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant smell. The vampire chuckled softly at his reaction. "You truly have been out of action too long if the smell of death offends you," he remarked.
"I would make a poor assassin if I lingered at the scene of the crime long enough to watch the evidence rot," he pointed out.
Vicente's chuckle turned to a laugh, as he conceded the point.
Belisarius opened the tome at the beginning, and proceeded to read each entry carefully, his every reaction observed closely by the vampire. At the end of an hour, the Imperial's eyes narrowed as he read the backwards conclusion of the diary, then closed it and set it down on top of Vicente's book, causing the vampire to wince in sympathy for his rare and priceless codex.
"This could only belong to Bellamont!" cried the Imperial in triumph.
"Indeed, unfortunately even Shadowmere was unable to get Loria from Anvil to Applewatch in time to stop you," noted Vicente.
Belisarius suppressed a shudder at the mention of Lachance's vicious horse. "That hardly matters now," he dismissed. "We have the evidence we need to pin the treachery on Bellamont, all we need is to find him."
"Ah, but what if he has already been found?" the vampire smirked.
xox
In the corner, Molag Bal and Boethiah were engaged in a rousing game of whack the scamp, egged on by Clavicus Vile and Meridia. Sanguine was unashamedly chatting up Haskill, who was looking wistfully at the whimpering Bellamont, as if wishing he could trade places with the Breton. Matthieu was glued to the wall, squealing as he was stuck with pins bearing wriggling oversized rattails, wielded by various blindfolded daedric princes. In the corner, Malacath was staring.
The platypus sidled up to a couch where Azura and Hermeus Mora were engaged in the only civilised conversation in the room. Well, she assumed it was civilised, but unfortunately, it was in a language which she couldn't understand. Sensing the approach of their host (Loria supposed that moons, stars and books couldn't actually see her), the two conversationalists helpfully switched to Cyrodiilic.
"So they're generated by iteration of a map or the solution of a system of initial-value differential equations that exhibit chaos?" asked Azura
Hermaeus Mora nodded sagely, but turned to address the platypus who was listening intently and nodding in what she guessed were the right places. "I sense you have many questions to ask of us, none of which concern the nature of fractals."
The platypus told the two daedric princes about what had happened in the Dark Brotherhood, how a traitor had caused chaos from within, how the Black Hand had turned on its most loyal and skilful member. She told them about the scroll she had found, and where it went; she explained her desire to find her Speaker, and all the while the two daedric princes listened. When her tale was over, Hermaeus Mora was the first to speak.
"Lightning flashes, sparks shower, and in one blink of the eye, you have missed seeing."
Loria blinked. "Wha –?"
"Because it is so clear, it takes a longer time to realise it," he explained. "You must understand that the river tells no lies, yet standing at its shores the dishonest man still hears them."
"Interesting," she said, before the book could utter any more inanities. "But it doesn't really answer my question…"
Sensing an impending confrontation, Azura stepped in. "The answer is right before your eyes," she said, directing her gaze out of the window to the bouncy castle, where Vivec was performing some spectacular acrobatics.
"Mephala?" Asked the platypus. "Why would Mephala help me?"
"That's really a question you should be asking the androgyny," replied Azura shortly, before turning to the book-Mora, and continuing her cryptic conversation.
Steeling herself, the platypus scampered across the great hall, dodging Sanguine as he tried to spray her with UV glitter, but coming up short when she was confronted by herself, wielding several cans of silly string, all aimed in her direction. Molag Bal let rip.
xox
Lucien's temper, so easily roused these days, was on the rise again. His new 'help' had finally shut up, but was now walking several paces behind him, and he could feel her gaze burning his ass as she checked it out. He gave a passing rat the kind of stare that would have had anyone in Tamriel quivering in their boots. But she wasn't wearing boots. She was wearing shoes. High heeled shoes. He aimed a vicious kick at a strange bug-eyed creature that was staring at him. It dodged. She giggled. He snapped.
A depraved smile on his face, he spun round, whipped out the Ebony Blade, and pounced.
A shrill squeal echoed up from the rainforests of Kush, putting all the birds within a half mile radius to flight. One hand wrapped itself around her scrawny neck, the other pressed the point of the Ebony Blade into her midsection. "Listen to me carefully," he growled. "You will do as I say, and only as I say. You will keep your mouth shut." He increased the pressure with the Ebony Blade, just enough to break the skin and activate the life draining magicka of the sword. The woman whimpered as she felt the life slowly start to drain out of her. "Shhhh," whispered the assassin; the woman quieted at once, her eyes wide as saucers. "You will speak when spoken to." He pressed a little harder, smirking as the wench began to tremble. "One more sound, the tiniest squeak, and I will cut your throat and do this by myself. Do you understand?"
His hapless victim nodded frantically, desperately trying to suppress the squeak that was eking its way up her throat. In the blink of an eye, the assassin had sheathed his blade and released her, and was once again making his silent way through the jungle. Now she realised why Chaiya had warned her not to upset him, and suddenly she was struck with the suspicion that it was he who was behind the recent murders in the City of Light.
Now following at a respectful distance, she kept her eyes trained over his left shoulder, and studiously ignored his rather fine ass. Murdering ass, she corrected herself. Yet as volatile and dangerous as the man was, it was hard not to admire the graceful way he moved through the trees; it was almost as though obstacles in his path were stray beams of light that fled from his shadow as he approached. But it's the other way around, she reminded herself. Shadows flee the light. Yet watching the assassin, she found that hard to visualise, indeed, she began to wonder how she could have ever believed such a thing.
xox
A writhing mass of neon green worms arrived at the bouncy castle. It went unnoticed until its venomous ankle spur ripped into the side of the bouncy castle, which rapidly began to deflate with a klaxon-like wail. Panic ensued as various daedric princes attempted to flee the wilting structure; some beating the flaccid walls in an attempt to find an exit, others endeavouring to tear a breach through which they could escape. When all of the party goers were accounted for except for Mephala, the silly string covered platypus steeled herself, and ventured into the depths of the deflated bouncy castle.
The suffocating mass of yellow rubber pressed down on her like a hundred feet of ocean. The heat intensified with every step, until the platypus was covered in sweat, and beginning to fear for her life. Just as she was about to give up and attempt to retrace her steps to freedom, she came across a pocket of air preserved in the depths of the beast. In the middle of the clearing slept Mephala, Vivec's form bathed in a cheerful yellow light. Loria sidled up to the slumbering daedric prince and cleared her throat.
Mephala slept on.
Sighing, the platypus proceeded to batter the androgyny about the face with her fatty tail.
"Alright, alright!" Mephala stirred, fixing the platypus with a formulating stare. "What do you want?"
"I want to reignite the magicka in a teleportation scroll I have. The original was expended, but I made a transcript of the incantation," she pulled the scroll out of a pocket in her pelt and handed it to the daedra.
Mephala gave it a quick once over, and resumed looking at the Lady of Madness. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Why would I help you? You lead the Dark Brotherhood, mortal enemies of my Morag Tong, you want my help to find another of your dark brethren." Before Loria could cut in, the Webspinner spoke again. "You wear the mantle of a daedric prince, yet you would worship at the feet of a mortal. You are everything that I am not, why should I not despise you?"
Loria paused, she hadn't expected this. The clouds of madness that enshrouded her each time she visited the isles parted for a moment – or perhaps they intensified? Swirling thoughts of a shattered mind, eternally changing, until in one moment of time; a fraction of an instant, the fractals form into a picture, luminous and incontrovertible. "Lightning flashes, sparks shower, and in one blink of the eye, you have missed seeing," she said. "All of this, the party, the costumes, the sounds and words, they're just interpretations of my mind; my mind which is still too mortal to perceive the nature of daedric princes. Yet I perceive you clearer than any of those others in there," she gestured towards the hall. "Mehrunes Dagon with his insignificant power struggles; Clavicus Vile with his meaningless business dealings; Sanguine with his transient pleasures.
"The truth is that none of those things really matter, in the grand scheme of things. Because the truth is that there is no truth. No grand scheme. Nothing that any of us do really matters; the Dark Brotherhood, the Morag Tong. There is no Destiny; just the machinations of a few small minded deities. But there could be. That is what you strive towards. The Webspinner, they call you; rather – Spinner of Destiny."
"If none of these insignificant things matter, why would I help you find some nothing assassin lost in a black land?"
"That doesn't really matter either; it doesn't even matter whether or not it matters. You'll help me because I understand. No other reason."
The Webspinner considered the latest addition to their fold; this one could prove useful, it thought. A pity such clarity will be a rarity whilst she wears the mantle of Sheogorath. But perhaps in time she will grow into the role, then will madness claim her, or will she change the nature of her daedric essence itself? Aloud, it said "You understand less than you think you do, yet at the same time, more.
"Your Speaker has been transported to a land that no one can reach, unless they already know the way." Loria's face fell, but the Webspinner continued. "We have met before, you and I; I gave to you the Ebony Blade. Its essence is linked to me always, so that I may reclaim it at any time. I see its location, and can send you there."
"Lucien still has it?" the platypus squeaked in excitement. "Just give me some time to prepare!"
Black Hands Mephala merely nodded, and the two began the lengthy process of extracting themselves from the fallen castle.
xox
Lucien took a long draught from his water skin. After a long trek (in blessed silence after his little episode), they had arrived back at the tomb, and proceeded inside. Lucien had led them to the chamber in which he had first arrived, and they had spent the next hour stripping the corpse of Nefernis of its resplendent armour. The smell had made the girl gag, and Lucien was certainly glad that he would not be the one who had to wear it. Dividing up the armour, they hauled it out of the tomb, sealing the door behind them with magicka once more. Then they began the long hike back to the city.
It was early morning when they stopped just behind the tree line beyond which lay the path to the city. After taking a rest, during which they polished off their remaining stores, Lucien turned to his new companion. "Alright Miss Haise, get dressed," he directed.
The woman opened her mouth to protest, but caught herself just in time as she saw the assassin's eyes darken in anger. Silently, she donned the silvery armour, which despite the bad smell was remarkably light and comfortable, though she doubted it would remain so when the sun reached its height.
Once she was properly disguised, Lucien called forth Kushiel, and the three made their silent way up the path to the city. Exposed as the path was, by the time they reached the gates a great crowd had gathered. Lucien held up his hand to shush them, and a tense silence descended upon the gathering.
Miss Haise stepped forward, shadowed by Kushiel. The Midday sun glinted like white fire from her armour, liquid light seeming to run through each engraving, giving the impression that the carvings were glowing with a supernatural light.
"Behold," cried Lucien, his flare for the dramatic wriggling in delight. "Your Queen has returned! All hail Queen Katesha!"
With a psychic nudge from Lucien, Kushiel bowed low before the shining figure, and after a stunned moment, the crowd, which included the entire council, followed suit.
xox
Loria emerged from the wreckage of the bouncy castle to be met with a scene of utter devastation. Daedric princes and Shivering Isles citizens were running every which way. Shrill screams and shrieks cut through the air, punctuated by the wails and bangs from fireworks which were creating an impressive strobe-effect. Visibility was vastly diminished by the sheer quantity of bubbles in the air, and by the smoke from the fireworks. The champagne pyramid seemed to have exploded, then frozen; the liquid and glass shards hung suspended in mid air. The chocolate fountain had gone into overdrive, and was spewing out the brown fluid like a sprinkler. Various individuals and items of furniture were coated in spray glitter, and the ground could not be seen beneath a layer of party poppers, confetti and streamers. Sanguine was capering through the madness, waving glow sticks and laughing inanely.
In the centre of the chaos, the culprit responsible, Molag Bal, was celebrating his victory in the best costume competition. The last thing Loria saw before the darkness was an inbound cream pie, as it was drawn with ravenous hunger towards her face. Somewhere in the distance, a voice seemed to make itself heard over the din, and a single word echoed around oblivion: splatypus.
Right, credits… well, I borrowed some imagery at the beginning from The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe. The Hermaeus Mora quotes are from Oma Desala in Stargate. I'm no good at cryptic myself!