A/N: Song reference, Kathy Mar's "Calm Down," and can be found on YouTube.
Chapter 17: In Other Words
The Bat Cave was impressive. Curved walls of bonemold, very Morrowind. Some furniture pieces were Dwemer. Curtis had always been disappointed that Game players weren't permitted to take Dwemer furniture to use in player homes. He didn't need urns, cups, or plates; he coveted the fancy golden chairs, dressers, and shelves. He loved the Dwemer spider table with its really nice, expensive glass table top.
This place was underground and built below the Cornerclub with a door made to resemble part of the wall stonework of the basement of Sadri's establishment. Savela's manner as she'd brought him here conveyed that this was not a place open to just any visitor, so Curtis was properly appreciative of the honor. Somehow, he knew that this was Sadri's place. His wife, the Dragonborn, had all the other properties he managed through all her housecarls, but this office was his private man cave and held things he valued.
The first thing Curtis saw as the fake wall opened was the niche on the opposite wall with shelves holding miscellaneous items. He also saw the cushion and low table where candles and offerings could be set. This was that thing he'd read about it in a Morrowind game book, The Waiting Door. A place whereby the family ancestor ghosts were welcome and could come and go. In the center of the room was a small ash garden with ash yams. Beyond that, along the same wall, were three more shrines. The weird feathered snake swallowing a sword was Akatosh, the anvil was Zenithar, and the last — hey, that was a new one — an owl perched on a pyramid.
"So, Sadri knows Jhunal," Curtis said aloud.
"How do you know him?" asked Savela, eyes wide with curiosity. "Master found him on Solstheim, an old god from the Skaal who said he used to be a god of their Atmoran ancestors. I'm told there are still Nord cults that worship their Ancestor Gods and reject the Nine of the Empire and Altmer.
"I know him 'cuz he's the reason I'm here. He brought me back to life when I'd died." He grinned with a touch of self-mockery. "I'm his champion."
"Truly?" Savela's eyes were wide in astonishment. They'd talked a couple more times since their first meeting, and she felt more comfortable around him. And while he was disappointed that she'd declined a leading role in nutritional research, he knew he'd gotten a prize of an ace administrator and fund-raiser. "He's a most curious god, is he not? I like him, and I'm eager to learn more about him."
The room temperature was hotter than the rest of the building. He shed his coat and looked for a place to hang it. Savela gestured to a bar hanging just behind the door. Curtis gaped in astonishment as he recognized the Wabbajack. "Yes, that's where you can hang your coat," Savela blithely affirmed.
"You do know what that is, don't you?"
"Is it something special?" She glanced at the staff and shrugged. "It's just something the master brought back from Solitude."
"Hah! You only get that swizzle stick if you survived having drinks with the Joker Prince himself." He looked around for somewhere to sit. The lounge chairs near next to the spider table looked comfortable. "So, uh, where's Master Sadri now?"
"I do apologize on his behalf, sera. Jarl Ulfric summoning him back to Whiterun was quite unexpected. The master has been inundated with demands to meet before he can leave the city. I am certain he will be here soon." She set down a tea tray and sat opposite him. "Do you mind if I ask you questions about Jhunal?"
"I don't mind. But, honestly, I know almost absolutely nothing. Once you get to Winterhold, then you'll know as much as me. And I've never really talked to the god. The only one I've talked to is Savos, the Mouth of Jhunal. Master Revyn knows tons more than I do."
"Oh, I see," she said, faintly disappointed. "I had the honor of meeting Archimage Aren before he took up residence on Solstheim. But he was ill at the time and spent most of his time talking with the Master. I had the tale from the Master of how Savos Aren gave his life to gain Jhunal's entrance into Apocrypha. So, you say he is now Jhunal's Mouth; he serves the god."
"Seems so. Seems to have snagged the job as courier. I wonder if it's also because he's the first mer to the Atmoran god's flock."
She nodded. "I hope he has found the peace he desired." Curtis nodded. When he'd played the Skyrim game, he'd always favored the Warrior route. He'd joined the College once because he'd wanted to complete the Gauldur Amulet quest. His younger brother was the Wizard, and from him he knew that Savos Aren had desperately conceived a plan to trap a dragonpriest in its tomb. Unfortunately, it depended on him successfully backstabbing two friends and damning them to eternal combat with the dragonpriest. That is, until the Dragonborn freed their souls to get at the dragonpriest and the Quest Object staff it was holding.
Revyn Sadri arrived soon after. "Apologies, Sera Curtis, for my tardiness. Savela. If you please?"
She promptly nodded to Curtis. "I'll see you later, sera," she said and left the room.
"Thank you for meeting me here on such short notice," said Sadri, and got right to the point, which told Curtis that something was going on he probably didn't want to know about. "I know your group is returning to Winterhold tomorrow morning. The attempted capture of yourself and trial of your captors has wasted much of your time. And then all the people who want to know about your work and Skytemple. But this attempt was not just because of Skytemple, but because you are an interesting commodity. Unfortunately, it's not going to get any easier. With so many spies working in Winterhold, keeping Skytemple a secret will be almost impossible. We will let it be known that Skytemple is an exciting excavation of a long-hidden intact Dwemer ruin. The secrecy is simply the college being selfish to monopolize studies. The sleepers within must be revived and removed to the last Falmer Vale hidden in the mountains between High Rock and Haafingar."
"I know you're thinking of their safety, but these people are waking into a totally alien world. Everything they knew is 5000 years gone. Keeping 'em sane will be hard enough. And the sleepers are both Falmer and Dwemer. When they find what one of them did to the other…"
"I understand, and I grieve for the pain they will feel," interrupted Sadri. "Thalmor won't care. A lot of people won't care. Most Nords would only sympathize by putting them out of their misery and establish once and for all that 'Skyrim is for the Nords.'"
"Man, that's harsh," Curtis muttered.
"Yes. We both know Nords who do not share that sentiment. And we remember them because they are the exception to public opinion. And the conservative Nords have just won a victory and their freedom from the Empire. Do you think they will let go of the newfound surety of their pride and power to care about the hurt feelings of the previous mer landowners who, by all rights, should be long dead?"
"I got it, I got it. But it still sucks balls."
"Yes. And I would be very careful about bringing up Molag Bal's name. It's only very recently his grip in the Reach has been loosened. And there are still vampire Falmer roaming the underground depths of the Vale."
"No, I meant…" Curtis stopped, thinking about it, and realizing the other hadn't misunderstood, just twisted the words to yet another warning. Yeah, there was violation going on here, and it was a particularly dark, haunted, and dangerous House the sleeping captives would have to be extracted from.
And there was no way in hell any of it could be sugar-coated and made easier. They were gonna bleed.
"OK. Soon as we wake 'em, we move 'em. Gonna arrange a ship or do we march 'em through Blackreach?"
"I can arrange for a ship," said Sadri. "Fast and with mages so that it's shielded from detection from any of the Thalmor naval ships that have been sneaking around the north coast."
"Northwatch Keep would be closest port," mumbled Curtis. "And a hard march from there through the upper Reach. Hopefully, no more Thalmor patrols."
"Worry about that later," advised Sadri. "You have enough to consider currently. By the time you leave I will have a packet for you to give to Tolfdir and Urag. And one for Ralis who will be there to watch Gelebor's back.
"Now, the reason I asked you here is that I am told you have questions about your role as Jhunal's Champion and that I may somehow be able to assist you."
"Says who?" That came out automatically, and Curtis instantly knew the mer had heard it as a rude challenge by the way his lips had tightened.
"A rather large bird told me, sera. However, if you think different…"
"No, no! I wasn't dissing… I mean, I didn't mean any disrespect, dismissal, or, uh, dishonor. I am not saying you wouldn't be able to give me good advice. I know better. I know you got the dope. You know a lot of, uh, hidden, maybe even forbidden, knowledge. Confidential stuff, I mean."
"Ah, I misunderstood. Forgive me. Of late, I've had… Well, that isn't important and has nothing to do with you.
"Savos or Jhunal think I may be able to help you, but they didn't tell me what I was supposed to be helping with. I understand you have many good friends at the college, so I do wonder what I could add that they cannot."
"Maybe that right there." Curtis edged up in his chair and sat forward. "They talk to you. Not in your dreams, right? Like they do me. One dream anyway. And I'm supposed to be Jhunal's Champion. So, what the heck does that mean? And there's no priest of Jhunal that I can consult, you know. Maybe get some feedback on what Jhunal might want. But I hear gods and ghosts talk to you. Everybody around here says you're the real deal."
"Ah." Sadri sat there, eyes downcast, thinking.
Curtis sat back to wait. He'd been told by Urag that Sadri was a reluctant mystic, that he had a lot of untrained power potential. Yet, even if he had been interested in training, the college had nothing to offer him because Mysticism was no longer taught as an independent discipline. Its teachings had been divided between Illusion, Alteration, and Restoration. It was also because Sadri's mindset took a more spiritualistic approach to power, more the purview of the priesthood. The college, a secular institution, did not deal with that approach. Curtis knew many of its members were religious, yet put aside the conflicting parts of their personal religions to make the college work.
"Just continue to do what you do," said Sadri at last. "Jhunal went to the trouble of searching other … other worlds beyond Aetherius for you. Not just because of your skills, I think, but because of your nature, your own motivations align you to his purpose. All he had to do was place you in a time and place where you would be the most effective and then let you go about your business.
"As for a priest, I do believe one will come along eventually. I feel that Jhunal will make the most of his tenure as a Daedric Prince and intends to come out of Julianos's shadow. Hermaeus Mora will eventually reclaim his realm. But by then, I believe Jhunal will have firmly re-established his own religion, likely among the mer since the Nords rejected him."
Sadri stood up and gestured for him to rise. He led Curtis over to the owl shrine. "Take this with you," he said. "I can have another one made since the crafter still has the mold. Make a shrine somewhere for him. I'm not asking you to assume the duties of a priest, but if people ask, just tell them who he is and that this is your way of thanking him for saving your life. That's all. Curiosity will do the rest.
"And, Curtis, I think you might want to be careful of what you ask of Jhunal. He could not have taken over Apocrypha if his nature did not allow it."
"How so?" asked Curtis.
Sadri was quiet for a long while, and his gaze was fixated on the owl god. Curtis recognized the mer was in processing mode. He could practically see the animated "busy" icon overhead.
Finally Sadri looked at him, and his expression was one of utter confusion. "Jhunal says his followers number ten — 'those that understand and everyone else?'"
Curtis thought carefully about it. The daedric symbol for ten… A neuron tripped.
In other words, Sheogorath wasn't the only Joker Prince around. If he went all the way back to the familiar Indo-Arabic forms of his past life and to those jokes and songs and the work his brother so loved — "Calm down, it's only ones and zeros; calm down, it's only bits and bytes." Ones and zeros. Close and open. On and off. Curtis growled, "Shit. OWLs. That's also a computer language for processing web info where I come from. Fucking geeks jokes from the daedric dark web."
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