Chapter 22: Worlds Apart

"Get out of my sight, before I plunge something in you!"

Castorius had been seen out with more pleasant parting words, but on the other hand, he'd gotten worse ones too in his time. His face was a bit tender where the woman had struck him. It hadn't been one of the blows she'd dealt him before their "making up" or even those she'd dealt during, for the healing potion he'd ingested afterwards had taken care of those, but from the latest one, the one she'd planted on his cheek as he'd requested a "kiss for good luck". Clearly the concept had an altogether different significance where she came from.

It mattered less, however, for despite his decline from a sub-par spy to a poor-quality dinner for one having looked just about inevitable, no one could deny he'd come out on top at the end. In a manner of speaking.

So in a good mood he certainly was.

"Good day!" he bid a haggard gentleman stumbling out of the Inn, and wasn't sure whether the man's slurred reply was "indeed" or "eat shit".

Castorius shrugged, and pushed open the swinging door.

Nightgate Inn looked every bit the same as all the rest of them. One was always struck with a certain sense of déjà-vu in these places, the setup, the atmosphere, the smell, even the clientele being pretty much always exactly the same. Castorius nearly felt the red of shame rise on his cheeks from the memory of the night before at Windpeak Inn. He had to remind himself that there were a few mountains between that place and this. Nobody here would have seen him. Most likely. And, it being just a little bit after noon, the place was mostly empty anyway.

He marched to the counter behind which a burly, bearded Nord stood with his arms crossed. The man regarded Castorius with his one good eye, the one which did not have a nasty vertical scar running under it. The eye had the sort of wariness about it as if it was constantly on the lookout for someone trying to get it too.

The man gave Castorius the slightest of nods. He was bald, and wore a stained, once-white shirt below his take-no-nonsense expression.

"Good day!" Castorius said, not exactly holding his breath for any friendlier reply than the one he now suspected having gotten from the earlier man.

"And a good day to you, sir," the man replied, "how may I help you?"

The man's voice was warm like the Sun's Height afternoon sun in your face; the low, raspy purr of it like the crackling of a fireplace on a windy Frostfall night.

Castorius, caught unprepared, tried to find a position to take in this unexpected dose of bonhomie. "Uh, I'm, er, looking for somebody."

"Ah," the man said, gave a superfluous gesture at the room. "Anyone here satisfy your tastes?"

Upon a closer look, it became obvious the place was actually completely empty. That was, if one didn't take into account the older-than-heavens man fast asleep at the back. Castorius did not.

"Um," he said, "no. Someone else. A man by the name of Sang—Sam. Sam Guevenne?"

Unless the one in the back was another one of his disguises. No, but he'd said something about not being able to fool the same person with different faces. Who knows, he may have even been telling the truth.

"Ah," the man said again, "he said you'd come." He nodded contently.

"And . . ." said Castorius after an uncomfortable silence, "he would be . . . where?"

"Ah," said the man, like each time he repeated it was an attempt to hit a lower, more enticingly wise note, "he's here." Thankfully, instead of another pause, he tossed his head back. There was set of steps leading down behind him. "He's downstairs, waiting for you."

"Thank you," Castorius said, and started to circle around the counter.

"Funny fellow, that one," said the man, "kind of odd."

"Yeah," Castorius said, smiling indulgently, and walked on.

The man would not be content with simply letting him go. "But we like him here. A loyal customer, tips well. Brings people with him, too."

"Uh huh." Castorius took the first steps down. Shut up, now.

"Oh, one more thing!"

Castorius stopped, and sighed. He flashed one more pained smile at the man.

"He told me to tell you, what was it? Oh, yeah: 'just courageously step into the void.' Yeah, that's it."

Castorius held a pause, in case the man had more to say. "That all?"

The Innkeeper nodded, and gave a little laugh. "Like I said: a funny fellow, that one."

Indeed.

The cellar was dim, many of the lights in the goat horn wall sconces blown out. It looked to have been quite a while since anyone last cleaned up, cobwebs hanging off the pillars and rafters, the cracks of the floor tiles powdered with dust. The space itself was larger than the Inn upstairs, only much more crammed, and with the ceiling hanging lower. Barrels, wine tanks, hay bales, and piles of crates were scattered amid the myriad wooden pillars.

But there was no sign of Sam. Castorius blinked at the shadows for a few heartbeats, listening. What was that odd faint noise he was hearing? A sort of squeak or moan, continuing in a steady rhythm. A hive of skeevers, maybe? Castorius felt his skin crawl at the prospect.

He took a tentative step further into the room. "Sam?" he called cautiously.

No reply, and no change in the sound either. It if had been skeevers, surely they would have been stirred by the sound of his voice.

He slowly walked further. The space opened up further to the left, to where the strange sound was coming from. There was an unobstructed doorway there, leading to a separate room.

As Castorius approached, it became evident what was causing the noise.

He stopped in his tracks, jaw dropping. In the room was a double bed, and on it were two people engaged in a most fervent form of copulation. A man lay on his back, holding on to the headboard, while a woman with the palest skin Castorius had ever seen rocked back and forth with a nearly violent motion. He head was tilted backwards, her eyes closed on her face twisted into a grimace of ecstasy. Her long black hair matted with dirt and sweat hung all the way down to the bedding. A steady moan escaped her throat, playing together in perfect harmony with the squeak of the bed.

The man under her also had his eyes closed, and a content smile on his lips. His muscular, hairy chest was arched faintly, dabbled with sweat.

Castorius simply stared. He wasn't particularly shocked by the sight, let alone aroused. If anything, he was surprised by this unexpected display of carnal passion. A faint voice in his head told him he should probably not be there.

That very sound realization did not, however, have time to prompt a proper corresponding action, before the woman's eyes flew open. She wrinkled her brow.

Castorius tensed in anticipation of her scream, but to his surprise it didn't come. The woman merely frowned at him, slowing her rocking somewhat, but still not altogether seizing it.

"Who are you?" she asked, sounding more curious than angry.

"Uh," Castorius replied.

The man had also opened his eyes, and was in turn frowning. He peered past the still swaying woman. "See anything you like?" His voice was a bit more irked, but it was still nothing like full-blown outrage.

"Um, um, sorry," Castorius muttered. "I didn't mean to . . . uh, I'll just be going now." He started backing up. "Sorry."

"By all means!" the man called behind him once his back was turned. The woman had started to moan again.

A little shaken, Castorius walked further toward the back of the cellar. What's going on here? He honestly would not have been surprised to find Sam in that bed, but it had obviously not been him. So where was the man? Or the demon, whatever he was.

There were no other rooms, just the clutter all over. Castorius walked on all the way to the back, but there was no one there. "Sam?" he called again. "Uh, Sanguine?"

Nothing, just the groaning and creaking in the background.

Castorius stood there for a few seconds, nonplussed. He shook his head, and was just about to turn on his heel when something caught his peripheral vision. He turned, and despite himself, dropped his jaw anew.

In the right back corner, behind a large wine tank, a massive orb of light had appeared from nowhere. A white light sprang outwards from its center, which itself was of the darkest of dark—less like a color, and more like the absolute lack of any.

As Castorius' eyes were irresistibly drawn into that center, he was filled with an odd sensation. As if, staring into that complete absence of qualities, he himself was drained of all of his.

"Courageously step into the void, huh?" he mumbled.

He tore his eyes off the apparition and looked at the ground, giving his head a clarifying shake. When he looked back, the thing was just the same, but the odd feeling was starting to subside.

He shrugged. Why not.

Castorius took a deep breath, and walked right into the center of the void.

Every hair on his body pricked up, and a powerful but brief sensation like a shock wave ran though him. He closed his eyes, feeling a tide of nausea. Perhaps this was a bad idea, after all . . .

When he opened his eyes again, everything had changed. It was like he was outdoors again, but this clearly wasn't the Pale, as there was no snow in sight, and the sky was of an unnatural dark blue color. A thick gauze of mist hung in the air all around him, carrying a strange musky odor Castorius could not remember ever smelling before. There was an unmistakable alien quality to the surroundings, a sense of complete unreality, like being caught in someone else's dream.

Right in front of him purled fast flowing rapids, over which ran a narrow stone bridge. Across the bridge, Castorius saw some lamps hanging in the mist, and between them he could decipher a walkway. He started walking across.

After the rapids, the walkway curved to the right, leading to another, shorter bridge. Crossing that one, Castorius started to hear some noise in the near distance. It was unmistakably people this time, animated murmuring pierced by bursts of raucous laughter. Sounded like a whole crowd of them. In the midst of the voices, there was the clinking of dishes. Sounded exactly like a banquet in progress.

Immediately Castorius started to feel hungry.

He followed the path towards the sounds, and soon arrived at the clearing where they were coming from. There was a a long trestle table there, set in the middle of some birch trees. Ropes had been rigged between the trunks, and the lanterns hanging from them made for a peculiar lighting in the middle of the eerie blue glow that so dominated the strange surroundings. Somewhere around ten people of different races and both sexes sat around the table, eating, drinking and making loud conversation. They didn't seem to notice Castorius drawing near.

He stopped a couple paces away, and still no one showed any sign of seeing him there. They were apparently too busy stuffing their faces with the assorted delicacies the table was laden with. Grease glistened at corners of the mouths which couldn't find the time to finish chewing before it was time to take a drink from one of the myriad goblets and bottles lying around. That, or to engage in spirited conversation with either somebody sitting at the other side, or a person at the opposite side of the table, or—by the looks of it—not with anyone in particular.

And although not in the most liberal recess of his mind could Castorius find it in him to call it in any respect an appetizing sight, he couldn't help feeling an odd hunger. And what was even stranger, he could have even gone for a drink just then.

"Cas! You made it!" A familiar voice from his right gave him a tiny jump.

There by the side was Sanguine, lounging on a maroon plush couch. Castorius could have sworn he hadn't been there just a second ago.

The daedra prince looked just the same as he had before—a giant black-and-red monster with horns and a wide grin on his lips. On both sides of him, there were two other creatures nearly identical to him. Nearly, that was, except for the fact that they were female. Sanguine had his arms draped over their shoulders, and they themselves were looking cozy in his embrace, hands resting on his muscular upper body.

The creatures were eyeing Castorius with lazy feline curiosity in their obsidian eyes, as if just to offer a contrast to the animated sparkle in Sanguine's.

"So glad to see you!" reveled Sanguine, throwing his hands wide.

"Uh," Castorius said. Wish I could parallel that claim.

"So—how'd it go? Did you deliver Jaree-Ra my little gift?"

A gift? "I gave him the jewel, if that's what you mean."

"And . . .?" Sanguine leaned forward, cocking his head in anticipation.

"It, uh, exploded," said Castorius. "Jaree-Ra's ship got half-buried under a hunk of collapsing rock."

"Ha-ha!" The Daedric Prince let out a barking laugh, slamming his giant hands together. "Better than I thought!" He hooted with laughter.

Castorius had no reply. He just stared at the cackling demon doubling over on the couch.

"Hey, wait up," Sanguine said abruptly, seizing his celebrations. "You said half-buried. What happened to the other half?"

"What does it matter? The ship was just about to enter their hideout was when the thing went off. Could barely escape the ship myself."

Sanguine raised a brow. "You? What were you doing on it?"

"Never mind that," Castorius muttered.

"Oh well," said Sanguine, lounging back beside his demonic escorts. "It was still a good prank, don't you think? Showed him to hustle me, huh."

Castorius frowned. "Prank? You call that a prank?"

"Sure. Why not?" Sanguine shrugged.

"Killing someone hardly qualifies for a prank!"

"He died? I assure you it wasn't purely my intention."

"Oh?" Castorius was feeling inexplicably outraged by the monster's nonchalance, but couldn't find words to express it.

Why was he even feeling the inclination to argue against the murder of someone who was himself a murderer?

"Well, did he?" Sanguine demanded.

"Actually," replied Castorius, "I don't really know. There was a whole lot of commotion."

"Well, then. I suspect that weasel found out a way out of it. Of course, I hadn't meant the thing to go off until they'd gotten inside the grotto. So I suppose you could say according to my original plan, he likely would have died." He shrugged his hefty shoulders. "Probably better this way, actually. After all, what's the point of a prank if no one's alive to remember it? Am I right?"

"So you did know about his hideout? You tricked me!"

Sanguine laughed. "A little maybe. It was fun, though, wasn't it?"

"I wouldn't actually go and say that." Castorius felt his anger somewhat frozen inside him. "So there never was any rose, was there?"

"Oh, there is. That much is true. And I did lose it; I just, well, rigged the truth about it just a bit."

What's the use? Castorius rubbed his the bridge of his nose, suddenly depleted of all desire to continue arguing. In addition, his head had started to throb.

"Either way," said the Daedric Prince, clearly oblivious to any discomfort on the part of his guest, "you certainly came through. You've well deserved your reward."

He looked thoughtful for a while, glancing around with a frown. His expression cleared then. "Hey, how about a little roll in the hay with these two?" He gestured at the "ladies" around him.

Castorius regarded the unnatural pair. They replied to his look with coy, suggestive smiles on their lips. Only the briefest flicker of curiosity sparkled within him before he squashed it down. "Um, I'm going to have to pass on that."

"You sure? They're quite the demons in the sack, you know. Real fierce!" Sanguine's grin was wider than ever.

Castorius gave the things one more look. It was almost like they were pouting, but then he could have just imagined it.

"Yeah, I don't doubt that," he said. "It's still a no, though."

Sanguine shrugged. "Suit yourself. Your loss." He stood up, stretched his long arms. "So, how do you like the place?"

"The place?" replied Castorius, looking around. "Where are we, anyway?"

Sanguine looked a bit surprised, as if Castorius should have somehow known. "Why, it's Misty Grove, one of my planes. Obviously."

Obviously.

"We're in Oblivion?" the realization was not a comfortable one.

"Well, of course," Sanguine replied. "Where else? What, you've never been?"

"Uh, no," Castorius said. "No, I've never been to bleeding Oblivion!"

"You sure about that?"

"I think I'd remember!" Castorius' eyes blurred, and this time he had to lower his head? between his knees. "Ah! Why do I feel so disoriented?"

"It happens," said the Daedric Prince. "Something about the change in dimensions or some-such. Then, it could also be the drink."

"I haven't had any," Castorius pointed out.

"Ah," Sanguine shrugged. "Guess it's just me, then." And, to emphasize his point, he produced a flask—the same one he'd thrown away back on Nirn, it looked, or at least one that looked exactly alike—and took a long guzzle. He didn't bother to try and offer it to Castorius this time around.

"How do I get out of here?"

If indeed he even could anymore!

"In a hurry to leave already?"

Yes, why on Nirn would I want to do that? "Is it possible?"

"Of course it's possible! Why you're in such a hurry is a different matter."

Castorius shook his head, as if trying to get everything back in its place. It hardly seemed to work. "I didn't think it was possible to cross the barrier anymore. Like, something Martin Septim did to seal the gates?" He'd been told all about it back in school—in fact over and over again—but he'd had more pressing matters on his mind at the time.

"Oh no!" replied Sanguine. "You've got it all wrong. It's not possible to make an invasion from Oblivion anymore; Martin took care of that. Supposedly, at least. But it's still perfectly possible to travel between the planes. After all, how else could I have come to you back in Mundus?"

"Oh."

That obviously made sense.

Sanguine assumed a sly, oblique smile. "I see you're not terribly curious about the relationship of your world and mine."

It hadn't even popped into Castorius' mind. "Well, I don't know—"

Sanguine chuckled softly. "Brother, if I had to explain what I know about it, I've no doubt your brain would implode on itself before I even got to the really juicy bits. And I don't even really understand it, myself. Though you may find that, for a Daedric Prince, I know peculiarly much. Did you know, for example, that you and I are not really talking right now?"

Castorius frowned. "Huh?"

"Well, we are, of course," Sanguine said with a pleased grin. "But only in a manner of speaking."

Castorius let his silent stare work as a prompting for a clarification.

"I can't really explain it, but the only reason we can now communicate—or indeed even perceive each other—is because, despite all our divergences, we share something. There's something in each of us that our minds are able to interpret, and so we are able to interact. But that doesn't mean that the way we see each other is how we actually are."

"You're saying you're the product of my own mind?" If that's the case, there must be something seriously wrong with me.

Sanguine spread his arms. "And you mine!" He chuckled. "Well, no. Not exactly. But close."

Castorius stifled the urge to slap himself again.

"Are you sure we've never met before?" Sanguine asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm sure I'd recall." Insufferable fools Castorius never forgot. Supernatural or otherwise.

Sanguine shrugged. "If you say so. Anyway, the bottom line here, my friend, is there's much more to me than your senses can discern. And the same goes for you. You're not able to even understand yourself completely. Do you think all of you is limited to what you can understand? This here time and space?" He shook his head. "Make no mistake, what you are, what you can be, stretches into far many more directions and dimensions than you realize."

"That doesn't—" Castorius started.

"Tell me," interrupted the Daedric Prince. "Why is it that a Daedric Prince is so much more powerful than, say, a regular man on Nirn?"

It seemed obvious enough. "Well," Castorius said, "it's because—" —it's because he's a Daedric Prince . . . But the circular nature of that all too obvious answer no longer felt satisfactory.

"Indeed," Sanguine said, smiling as if he could read the doubts in Castorius' mind. "It is my own theory that it is simply on account that he believes himself so to be. It is this conviction of his, reality manifested, if you will. And because others come to believe it too, it thus becomes shared reality." Sanguine nodded, visibly satisfied by his own exposition.

"I'm not sure that makes . . ." Why do you keep trying? Castorius closed his mouth.

And Sanguine opened his. "There is always much more than meets the eye. So many of your limitations are self-imposed—if you could only fully realize that, there'd hardly be any limit to what you could be. Who you could be."

"Now you're starting to sound like someone else I know. Have you met—"

In the true manner of those enraptured by their own narrative, Sanguine wouldn't stop to listen. "When you really look into the void, into the heart of nothing, you can see how it can be anything. The limits of reality, of what can be, are highly malleable. Sometimes all it takes is a little . . . push," he emphasized his words with a thrusting motion, "and the walls between what you took to be the difference between you and me, between here and there, between what's possible and what's impossible, simply give in."

If Castorius had been in a lot of situations lately where he'd been out of things to say, the entire content of his mind felt just about sucked into the void right now. He passingly wondered whether it was possible for Daedric Princes to lose their minds.

If so, here was exhibit A.

Probably B and C, too.

"But I'm not really the expert on these things," Sanguine went on. "My area is more," he wiped his hand over the view of the people around the table, "this."

A fight had broken loose, two men drunkenly pounding each other with fists. Some others were yelling at the combatant, abetting one or the other, or simply, it appeared, calling out random remarks. One woman barely staying on her feet stood up on her chair, applauding and giggling uncontrollably. Others were simply content to continue their eating and drinking.

Sanguine chuckled, shook his head lightly "Oh you guys!" He then turned his attention back to Castorius. "If you want answers you should go to Hermaeus Mora, really. Though his answers most likely would end up just raising even more questions. Or perhaps he'd simply smack you in the face with one of those peculiar tentacle-things . . ." He squinted, like in the face of a particularly puzzling conundrum. "I still don't understand what those are supposed to be."

Castorius frowned. "I'm sorry, what are you talking about now?"

"Never mind," replied Sanguine. He smacked his lips. "Well, perhaps since you're in such a hurry, it's better you go. It was nice that you could make it and all, but . . ."

"What about my reward?"

"What reward?"

"My reward!"

Sanguine spread his arms. "I don't really know what it is you want. I've offered you a good time . . ." he gestured at the female creatures who now, in the absence of their host, had started to fondle each other, " . . . but if you're not interested, I don't know what to tell you. Besides, isn't a job well done really its own reward?"

"You're ripping me off!" I can't believe this! Well, actually . . .

"I'm not!" Sanguine claimed. "Besides, I get the feeling I have rewarded you."

Castorius pshawed. "You have not! Words of wisdom don't quite cut it!"

Words of lunacy was more like it.

"Careful, now!" Sanguine said with an edge to his voice. "I may be easy-going in general, but even I have my limits."

Castorius merely tossed his arms in disbelief, shaking his head.

"Look," Sanguine said in a conciliatory tone, "if it's really so important to you, let's say you can keep my rose if it turns up. How's that, huh?"

"A rose? What am I, a botanist, now?"

"Like I said before, it's no ordinary rose."

"Whatever," Castorius said, sounding—and feeling—like a let-down child denied a new toy. So this is the thanks for putting my life at risk to get you your petty revenge. Guess this ought to teach me to do the bidding of your ilk.

Sanguine, apparently intent on making this a friendly departure, laid a comforting hand on Castorius' shoulder. "You may not know it, and even I may not understand it, but I have a feeling you'll get your due reward. I might have even saved your life, for what it's worth."

For what it's worth? "The only way I can think you might have saved my life is at the same instance you put it at risk," Castorius said, but he was running out of zeal. "Ah, what does it matter. Just show me the way out, alright?"

"It's just the same way you came in. Trace back your steps, and the portal should be waiting for you."

"Alright," Castorius muttered. "Thanks. I guess." Without a second glance, he started to walk back towards where he came from.

"Hey, Cas!" Sanguine called one more time. As Castorius turned back to frown at him, he said, "Just remember: the way things seem to be?" he shook his head, "That's seldom how they really are."

As the Daedric Prince clearly had nothing more cogent to say, Castorius waved his hand at the creature, and walked on.

Wherever the world might end up taking him, he prayed to all the gods he'd never believed in that he'd never have to face one of these troublesome and superfluous beings again.