Chapter 4:
This wouldn't do. She had to do something with herself, and Portia knew it. She sat on the edge of her bed, the bloody bandages that she had just removed lying on the floor by her feet, and a hand gingerly rubbing a burn mark on her neck. She couldn't sit here all day and think about her dream or the burn that the chaos sphere had caused, even if the night's events consumed her thoughts. Her mind kept turning inward, visualizing Mehrunes coming toward her, and she wondered what exactly had happened. Perhaps she could ask Gilthan, but then again, speaking openly with him might prove difficult. The Arcane University was off limits to most people, and if she was granted access, the other mages would know of her presence.
And what was Arelius up to? Surely he wouldn't harm her, but she didn't think that she could speak to him about her personal distress either. Besides the fact that he was an authority figure, she didn't want to overstep her bounds and make him think that she was the same, adoring girl from before. Gods, but she could imagine him now, sitting across from her at a tavern table on one of the rare occasions that he went out with his subordinates. And she had been foolish enough to speak to him about private matters, namely, the death of her parents and her desire to become something other than an orphan. He had been kind and offered comforting words, and perhaps it had been the alcohol in both of them, but he had mentioned that he too felt the urge to control his life and make it worthwhile. It had made Portia think that they were two of a kind, and maybe in some sense they were, but she never wanted him to see her as that smitten, fresh recruit ever again. The man had probably shaken his head at her suppressed feelings whenever her back was turned.
No feelings now, she thought. Now she just wanted dreamless sleep and a path that didn't involve holding other peoples' lives in her hands. She stood and moved downstairs, briefly pausing beside the entrance to the sitting room when she heard a cup rattle against a saucer. Lucretia tended to take her morning meals here, while the children were busy with lessons and Arelius was away at work. Portia was more interested in finding Gilthan, but she knew that she owed her hostess some attention and gratitude.
"Morning," she greeted, popping her head into the room. Lucretia smiled and lifted her eyes from the book that she was reading. The woman really was lovely with her raven colored hair and elegant features.
"And good morning to you, Portia. You seem to have slept better last night." Portia inwardly winced, knowing full well that Lucretia and Arelius heard her screams whenever a nightmare was particularly rough. The first time that she had screamed, Arelius ran into the room with a drawn sword, thinking that there was an attack. He and his wife had quickly learned to bear the unexpected yells, and Portia, for her part, had tried to sleep with her face shoved in a pillow.
"I took a potion," she explained. "It helped."
"But you still have nightmares?" Lucretia guessed.
"I think that I'll always have nightmares." Lucretia's book was set aside, and she calmly regarded Portia with the eyes of someone who understood troubled nights. Her entire demeanor spoke of a patient and conditioned strength that Portia rather envied.
"Sometimes all you can do is bear the worries," the woman stated. "Sometimes, you can even get used to and accept them. Arelius has a dangerous job, and sleep does not always come easily."
"For you," Portia knew.
"Yes," Lucretia said with a soft smile. "He, of course, sleeps soundly. I'm the one left to toss and worry, but it's easier now. I've had years of practice. It's mainly the children that I worry about...life without a father would be difficult." And Portia wondered if the man who'd died under her watch had left an anxious family behind. As her sword parted his skin, had he thought about his children? She didn't particularly want to know, and she distractedly shifted her eyes to Lucretia's hand, which was reaching for her tea cup. Portia tried to think of something to say, but conversations with Lucretia tended to be a bit stilted. The women simply didn't have much of a basis for interaction, at least not one that was apparent.
"He wishes to speak with you later," the elder woman told Portia. "He'll be home late, but I suspect that you are used to odd hours. He mentioned that you once worked under him." Portia made a low sound of acknowledgement, and Lucretia gently smiled. "He said that you wouldn't want to talk about it."
"That I don't," Portia agreed.
"And he'd like you to see a healer about your injury. You're bleeding more than you should, even if the wound won't fully heal. You'd be wise to take his advice." Portia nodded, trying to gauge how much Arelius confided in his wife.
"Thank you for your concern. I'll look into it when I go out today." Not likely. She was off to investigate how best to contact Gilthan.
"There's no need for that," Lucretia softly smiled. "A temple healer will be here within the hour." Akatosh above, the woman was as bad as her husband, even if she looked more innocent when making such subtly maneuvers. Portia nearly smiled, feeling a sense of affinity with her hostess for the first time. Even if this was meddlesome, it was the first that they'd interacted at a level beyond strict business and politeness.
"He told you that I wouldn't go if you didn't make me, didn't he?" Portia knowingly asked.
"He might have implied it, but I arranged this myself."
"He'll be pleased with you," Portia sighed as she sat down beside Lucretia, and the other woman tilted her head with a bright sparkle to her eyes.
"You can't come from the social circles that I do without learning a few things about people, and while you are my guest, I will see to your health. Would you like anything? I can call a servant." Portia had never been waited on by a servant in her life, except maybe when she'd been undercover once at a ball, and that had been years ago. The rest of the time, she had usually been acting as a commoner or herself, watching from a distance and then switching into her armor for action. There had been better equipped agents—women like Lucretia—to move on more social missions. Of course, she could always ask Lucretia if she was a Blade, but she was certain that she wouldn't get a straight answer.
"I'm fine," Portia said. "I don't usually eat breakfast." It was nauseating to eat when she woke up in pain.
"Understandable, but surely you would like something to drink? Alcohol this early in the morning is not the best thing." So the woman had seen her little collection of bottles beside the bed. It really wasn't surprising, and Portia was sure that Lucretia knew much about her personal habits. The servants probably reported everything to their mistress, for it was Lucretia who ran the household. Arelius was too busy with Blade and guard business, and Lucretia was certainly capable of handling things on her own.
"I'll take some tea, since you've trapped me here with your healer," Portia allowed.
"Trapped is a rather ungrateful term to use. If I don't do this, I'm afraid that the servants might murder you for dirtying so many linens."
"I'd like to see them try, but I am sorry about the sheets. I do bandage my wounds before bed. Sometimes it's simply not enough..." And just then a servant walked in to announce the healer's arrival. Lucretia and Portia exchanged a secretive smile when the servant glared at Portia, and a nonverbal understanding gently passed between them. Perhaps friendship was possible after all. It would make Portia's presence much easier on the household, and she sensed that Lucretia would be a worthwhile connection in times of trouble. Her instincts told her that such considerations were not only positive but necessary.
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"And then the bubbles erupted into fireballs, and all I could do was hide beneath a table," Gilthan stated with a wide sweep of his arms. "Ridiculous, if you ask me. If J'mira does one more reckless experiment, I'm going to request that my rooms be moved. I'm surprised that I'm still standing." He grinned as the people around him chuckled in humored understanding.
"Come now, Gilthan," an old, female Breton smiled. "We all know that you love the excitement, and stop acting that you're a victim." Gilthan was about to reply when another mage entered the room, his voice muffled by the large stack of books that he carried.
"Someone is here to see you, Gilthan." The high elf's eyebrows shot upward in delight, for he loved guests—depending on who they were. Really, he spent so much time tied to the library under Irlav Jarol's research directives, that even he got sick of books. Of course, he had been getting even less sleep than usual the last few nights, for he'd been sneaking about to read about oblivion and Mehrunes Dagon. Progress was slow, and the counsel kept its eye on who was accessing books with darker content. It was a nuisance to be sure, and with one misstep, someone might start to question why Gilthan was suddenly interested in a daedric prince. Discovery might then lead to harsh repercussions since the subject of chaos spheres was so touchy. His forefathers help him, but he wasn't suppose to know as much as he did.
"And where is my guest waiting?" he asked.
"She's on the steps out front," and the overloaded herald shuffled off.
"Another admirer?" someone asked Gilthan.
"I cannot help that I am attractive and witty," the elf huffed with faked disdain. "I shall see you all at some later date. Goodbye." He was off, walking the familiar corridors and wondering who was calling on him. When he exited the university's front gate to be met by Portia, he was truly surprised and a bit concerned about the attention that her presence would bring to him. Another mage was standing nearby, easily within earshot of their meeting, and Gilthan knew that this would not look good.
"Hello, Gilthan," Portia greeted with a huge smile. "I was hoping that we could have that lunch that you promised." His nerves relaxing, Gilthan thanked the gods for his reputation as a charmer. This would be perfectly believable if he simply acted like himself.
"And hello to you, fair Portia," he said, walking forward and winking at her. "I thought that you hadn't taken me seriously."
"I take you very seriously," Portia stated. "And I know the perfect spot for a meal, if you're interested."
"Of course I'm interested!" Gilthan beamed, honestly delighted at the prospect of going out for the afternoon. His eyes swept toward the basket in Portia's hands, and he glanced questioningly at her.
"Picnic," she explained.
"Ah, that would be perfect. Lead the way." They strolled side-by-side, Portia directing them out of the university and a short way along the coast. She kept her eyes out for mudcrabs, and Gilthan kept scanning the air for any residue signs of magic. Portia might have been oblivious, poor with magic as she was, but Gilthan could sense attention on them. From the university, certain mages might be tracking Portia, and even if they weren't eavesdropping, the picnic would not go unnoticed.
"I hope that this won't be a problem," Portia commented as she sat on a grassy patch of land beside the water. She faced the shimming depths of blue while keeping a small hill to her back, the slope of which afforded a convenient back rest. "I know that the mages are keeping tabs on me, but I needed to speak with you, and I didn't know how else to contact you."
"It's quite alright," Gilthan assured as he flopped down beside her, his blue robes spreading out around him. "I should have told you how to contact me. I'm afraid that you're request to see me might be..."
"Conspicuous?" Portia guessed.
"To certain people, yes, but I believe that we are safe to talk here. So, what would you like?" Portia slightly frowned as she stared out over the water. Mountains rose in the distance, clouds crowning their peaks, and the river's surface danced with insects and lilies. It would have been beautiful if not for her concerns.
"I'd like to ask you a few questions about a dream I had," she said.
"My dear lady," Gilthan gasped. "There's no need to jump straight to business. Please. I was actually asking what you'd prefer to drink." Portia blinked.
"I only brought water."
"Ah, but I can remedy that. Red or white?"
"Red," and she found herself smiling. This high elf really did know how to catch her off guard. He was the polar opposite of the people whom she was accustomed to working with, namely Arelius a few other blades whom she'd grown close to. It was business first, leisure later with those types of professionals, but Gilthan...Well, as she watched him grin and summon a bottle of red wine from thin air, she wasn't sure how to characterize the man. Certainly he was jovial and a bit impulsive, but she was willing to bet that he was rather crafty and intelligent as well.
"Here you are," Gilthan said as he passed her a filled mug. "Now, what were you saying? And please don't forget to unload that basket. I can smell the fresh bread from here." Portia began unpacking the food as she thought about what she should tell the elf. Honesty seemed the best approach, for despite his lackadaisical nature, she found herself trusting this man.
"I had a very strange dream last night," she began, and from there the story unraveled with every possible detail. Gilthan munched on a sandwich as he listened, and Portia noticed the sharp, thoughtful gleam to his eyes as he digested her words. His face even twisted into a frown at one point, and by the time she was finished, he had forgotten about the food.
"So you are unsure whether the dream was only a figment of your imagination or something more," Gilthan contemplated. "I'm inclined to agree with the latter. Dreams are funny things, but from what you've said, and the burn mark on your neck...You're sure that the burning coincided with Mehrunes' touch?"
"Yes." Portia poured herself more wine.
"Interesting...the chaos sphere is probably affecting you, but the question is in what capacity. Its influence will definitely increase with time, which is why it's important that the mages find a solution soon, but...hmmm. The dream itself probably wasn't dangerous, so I wouldn't worry about that. Visions never result in physical harm to my knowledge, but whether or not you'll be negatively affected in other ways, I can't say. Magic is a funny, fluid thing, and when it comes to powerful artifacts, there's no telling what could happen."
"Do you think that it'd be wise for me to continue exploring the dreams?" Portia asked.
"I really don't know enough about it to say, but I don't think that you're in danger since technically, you were in your room the entire time. It was only your mind pulling you deeper, and for all my jabbering, it might have been absolutely nothing."
"I wasn't actually in oblivion? I could have sworn that I was. It all felt so real, and it wasn't illogical like a normal dream. I actually felt like time was moving at a regular pace for most of the time."
"Being in oblivion would have been impossible," Gilthan decided. "Do you remember when I said that people sometimes have connections with other dimensions?" Portia nodded. "If you are indeed one of those people, visions and dreams still don't physically move you. They only allow you to see into another place, and we don't even know if what happened to you was a vision. It's possible that the sphere painted the scenes in your mind, and it's even possible that since Mehrunes wears the other sphere, that a brief connection formed between them. Twin artifacts have been known to retain strong ties to one another, and with a willpower like Mehrunes searching for the other earring, I'd say that what you experienced was part fantasy and partly oblivion's doing."
"That doesn't sound as bad as I thought it would," Portia sighed in relief.
"Keep in mind that this is speculation, but unless you have evidence that you're experiencing something that goes beyond your own mind, I don't know what else to tell you. Everyone that I could ask would, unfortunately, be unhappy with your knowledge of the sphere, and then it'd probably be out of the guild for me."
"I'll let you know if anything happens," Portia promised. "And thank you for your help."
"Oh, dear," Gilthan said. "Don't make me out to be a knight or anything. And have you looked at the book that I recommended?"
"I'll do that soon."
"Good. Now pass the jam if you would."
"Sometimes I wonder about you," Portia commented.
"Really? Me too, but you have to admit that I have character." That he did. "And strawberry jam is my favorite," he beamed when he realized what flavor he was holding. Portia nodded absently, for she was distracted by the sound of furious hooves beating against the path overhead. Both she and Gilthan turned to watch a rider charging in their direction.
"Black Horse rider," Portia stated.
"Yes, and a bit winded isn't he?" Gilthan said, standing. He brushed himself off and walked up the small hill to hail the rider. Now was as good a time as any to grab the news. "How goes it, friend?" he called. The rider slowed but did not fully stop.
"No time to talk," he bellowed. "I've got to get this news to the press."
"And what news is that?" Portia asked, curious. The rider looked like he hadn't stopped riding for hours on end.
"It's Skingrad," the man shuddered. Skingrad? It seemed to Portia that she had recently been thinking about the city, but she couldn't remember exactly why.
"What about the city?" she asked.
"It was attacked. An oblivion gate opened, and half the town has been destroyed." With that, he spurred his horse into action, and dust again flew about the path behind his disappearing form.
"Damn," Gilthan cursed. "Something has got to be done about the dragon fires. It's hard to sit and do nothing, isn't it?"
He received no answer.
"Portia?" The woman had gone incredibly pale, and the elf was suddenly concerned for her health. "Portia? Is something wrong?" The woman merely shook her head and muttered something about dremora. With a gentle touch, Gilthan forced her to look at him.
"I think something is definitely happening when I sleep," she stated. It was going to be a very long night, but she decided then and there that she needed to get another sleeping draught and see if perhaps there wasn't valuable information to be found in the palace of her nightmares.
