I had been right; slipping and skidding across blocks of ice was the perfect summation of a tormented afterlife. Serana and I managed a cautious rhythm of hopping from ice block to ice block. I carried a lantern in one hand, taking care to light our path safely. Urag had also been right; the ocean did freeze, but that made it more harrowing, not less. Every step involved a lot of ominous creaking noises and we had to do a lot of suspicious prodding before we took our next step.

Long, lithe shadows glided beneath the surface of the water. Occasionally one would rise close enough for me to see the long, snaggletoothed jaws. The slaughterfish would assess whether we were close enough to the water's edge to try for a bite, then slide back under the surface to wait. Even at only three feet long, that was plenty big enough to do some serious damage. I couldn't help but swallow uneasily every time the light reflected off a pair of glowing yellow eyes in the water.

Serana handled the cold just fine, and I had thought ahead and purchased potions of Resist Cold. I ended up burning through several of them on our miserable trek away from shore. Our only hint was that he had gone north, so north was where we headed, searching the darkness for something that might tip us off.

Eventually, a light became visible in the distance, guiding us to a massive iceberg ahead of us in the dark. Once we were actually on the iceberg, we found an excavated hole leading into its depths. A small trap door closed the entrance against the icy winds. A pair of torches sat on either side of the doorway; strangely inviting to strangers, considering where we were.

The entrance wasn't locked, and Serana and I found ourselves climbing down a ladder into the depths of the iceberg. A tunnel had been carved through the ice, into what looked like a pretty sizable room within. Peering in, we found a large metal cube with a strange lock on the front; large metal rings seemed to have been rotated out of alignment to seal it. The rest of the room was simple but furnished with a small square wooden table, food and drink, a cupboard, shelving, and a bed. A torch had been stuck in the wall to illuminate the scene.

An old man, who had to be Septimus Signus, was pacing around inside, fixated on the huge cube.

If his book had been a mess, the man himself was more so; he hadn't bought a new set of clothes in years, or particularly bothered to wash them much. His beard was long and unkempt, and if the frazzled wisps of hair sticking out of his hood were any sign, he hadn't done more than tug on it in frustration.

He was rambling to himself, "Dig, Dwemer, in the beyond. I'll know your lost unknown and rise to your depths." Then he giggled, "But when the top level was built, haha, no more could be placed. It was and is the maximal apex."

I led Serana down a winding path, holding up the lantern, and calling out, "Septimus? My name is Lasirah, and this is Serana. Can we talk to you for a little while? We mean you no harm."

Septimus waved lazily at me and frowned at the cube, "How long will it be sung? My feet were set upon the rock but it turned to mud and drew me down." He threw up his hands and turned toward me, eyes bright with frustration, "A few words, a few words. Perhaps this interruption will be to our mutual benefit, hmm?"

"Mutual benefit? What have you found?" I gave the cube a dubious look.

"The ice entombs the heart of a god. The bane of Kagrenac and Dagoth Ur. To harness it is to know. The fundaments!" He spoke the words in a half whisper, as though it were a secret that he wished to share. "The Dwemer lockbox hides it from me. The Elder Scroll gives insight deeper than the deep ones, though. To bring about the opening."

I frowned, picking at what he'd said until I thought I had an idea, then perked up hopefully. "You need to read an Elder Scroll to get inside, to find the heart of a god? Is the Scroll here?"

He sagged a little with a frown, "No, it is not in my possession."

I took a deep breath, then let it out, "Do you at least have an idea of where to start?"

Septimus gave a little giggle, "Oh ho ho ho! I do indeed! I've seen enough to know their fabric. The warp of air, the weft of time." He waved his hands in a fluid, flowing motion, then dropped his hands and watched me, a sly smile on his face. It seemed that he was going to make me pry it out of him.

I wrestled down my frustration. He was a half-crazed old man, living alone inside an iceberg with a Dwemer safe for company. I couldn't get mad at him for craving conversation, however banal, "Okay, so where is it?"

"Here," he said that single word with finality, then paused and put his hand to his chin. "Well, 'here' as in this plane of existence. Mundus. Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking. On the cosmological scale, it's all nearby."

I pressed both my palms to my face, "Serana, do you know how to brew a potion for headaches?"

"Sadly, no," her voice was apologetic, but I could detect a hint of mild amusement in her tone as well.

"Do you know exactly where the Elder Scroll is?" I asked, praying that a direct question would be more effective with this scatterbrained old coot.

He wagged a finger at me, "One block lifts the other. Septimus will give you what you want, but you must bring him something in return."

"That sounds fair so far," I agreed cautiously. "What do you want?"

Septimus gestured grandly at the huge cube that loomed over us, "You see this masterwork of the Dwemer. Septimus is clever among men, but he is but an idiot child compared to the dullest of the Dwemer. Lucky then they left behind their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls."

My head snapped up, a surge of hope rolling through me. Do the Dwemer have ways of safely getting information from a Scroll? Gods above, that would be a blessing and a half for the two Scrolls we still need!

But then I felt a trickle of foreboding when the old man continued airily, "In the depths of Blackreach, one yet lies. Have you heard of Blackreach? 'Cast upon where Dwemer cities slept, the yearning spire hidden learnings kept?'"

"I… haven't. I don't usually muck around in dwarven ruins," I admitted. "Vampires usually prefer caves over citadels full of hostile machinery. Where is this… Blackreach?"

"Under deep. Below the dark. The hidden keep. Tower Mzark. Alftand. The point of puncture, of first entry, of the tapping. Delve to its limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond. But not all can enter there. Only Septimus knows the hidden key to loose the lock to jump beneath the deathly rock."

Why was I not surprised? If we wanted to find the Elder Scroll, we would have to traverse through a Dwarven citadel, which was bound to be full of traps and guardians. Then somehow make it to the deepest point, only to go even further down to this… Blackreach place. Search through THAT to find the Scroll, only to muck around with Dwemer technology in the hopes of somehow using it correctly to get Septimus what he wanted.

It sounded like an exercise in futility to me, but at the same time, what choice did we have?

I took a deep breath and let it out wearily, "Okay. So we make a deal then; you give us the key to get in. We use the Dwemer machines to get you the information you need. We keep the scroll but give you the information to get into this lockbox of yours. Does that sound fair?"

"More than fair!" Septimus said happily. "Two things I have for you. Two shapes. One edged, one round." He rummaged in the shelving and turned back to me, placing two items in my hand, "The round one, for tuning. Dwemer music is soft and subtle, and needed to open their cleverest gates. The edged lexicon, for inscribing. To us, a hunk of metal. To the Dwemer, a full library of knowings. But... empty. Find Mzark and its sky-dome. The machinations there will read the Scroll and lay the lore upon the cube. Trust Septimus. He knows you can know."

The two items were made for related uses. Though one was spherical and one was a cube, the etchings on their metal surfaces were identical to the etchings on the Dwemer lockbox.

"You said the sphere plays… music? You mean the Dwemer-made locks that can only be opened by hitting the correct notes?" The thought that something could be locked using musical notes sounded like it would be incredibly complicated, and risked sealing something away forever should the sphere ever be lost.

Perfect security for an Elder Scroll, I suppose.

"Oh yes. The deepest doors of Dwemer listen for singing. It plays the attitude of notes proper for opening. Can you not hear it?"

"I'm afraid I can't." I shook my head. If the thing was playing musical notes, they were of a range that I couldn't catch.

"Not all can," he admitted. "Once the round has been used, the edged must then be employed. As I have said in my book; to glimpse the world inside an Elder Scroll can damage the eyes. Or the mind, as it has to Septimus." He gave me a small smirk, as though fully acknowledging that he was crazier than a Hammerfell hyena hopped up on skooma. Then he tilted his head like a bird, "But the Dwemer found a loophole, as they always do. To focus the knowledge away and inside without harm. Place the lexicon into their contraption and focus the knowings into it. When it brims with glow, bring it back and Septimus can read once more."