Chapter 56: Sweet Dreams
"You doing okay, Ireyna?" Curtis could see pain in the tense crinkles around her eye and flexing of jaw muscles when she clenched her teeth. "I can watch the kid. Take a painkiller and take a nap," he ordered.
She knew better than to argue with him. He didn't hesitate to drug her food and drink to make her sleep. He had the look of a ruffian. But while his manner of speaking was, at times, curt, and he sometimes had that low, growling manner one associated with ash-born natives of Morrowind, his touch was gentle. And the drugs he made her take were ultimately for her benefit.
"Don't you think I'd know my own body's limits?" she'd once challenged.
"Sure you do," he'd shot back. "When it's working right. But it's not working right, and you're pushing yourself because you're trying to hold to a standard of health you ain't got no more."
She sighed and gave the Falmer babe to Curtis, who carried it over to the hammock cradle installed in the carriage. He then came for her and held the little blue bottle of the painkilling drug. She put a few drops in her tea and drank it. It took the edge off the brittle glass shards of her pain.
"Ready?"
"Yes," she answered, and he planted his feet against the slight swaying of the coach floor and bent to present his arm. She appreciated that he did not grab her hands to pull her or pick her up.
He would if she didn't stand up without good reason.
She tugged on her cotton gloves, snugging them on tighter. It was an automatic, nervous action done unconsciously. It was one pair of the dozens he had given her. A flimsy piece of armor against touch. She had scoffed at first, wondering why he gave her so many cheaply made cotton gloves that could be thrown away or even burned if she felt that way. Those were useless in childcare and only fit for finding dust. It was because she couldn't stand to touch or be touched by anyone else, and she had eventually realized he had understood that. And so he had given her the illusion of safety.
His fingers were curled in a loose fist. He only offered his arm to hold and press against. They slowly walked to the back of the carriage, where the bed was. If they hadn't come to a town by nightfall, Curtis slept outside with the soldiers.
"This is truly a wonderful carriage," she said. "I would sooner think we were rolling over the smooth marble avenues of Alinor than a dirt road heading to Whiterun."
"Sway bars could use some tweaking, but it's pretty good, yeah," grunted Curtis. "You need a little more painkiller?"
"No, I can manage. Thank you, my lord."
He stood beside her bed, waiting for her to settle in. He was staring at his curious magic hand mirror. It looked like a hand mirror, but she had once chanced to glimpse into it only to see it reflected nothing. Instead, she saw strange text. At least he wasn't staring at her, although she knew he was watching her. The bed he'd created for her was unusual, coils of metal springs stuffed with cotton and each encased in silk. The springs were then packed into a box frame, the silk sleeves allowing each spring to move independently to any weight. And then topping it was thick, springy sheepskin.
She was floating on a warm cloud, yet she still felt the twinging of pain.
He set down the single-dose bottle of a sleeping potion on the ledge within her reach. A swallow of that, followed by a cleansing mouthful of cold black tea, and she was in a dreamless sleep.
She'd be out for the rest of the morning. He checked on the mutant Falmer babe. It didn't need changing, and its tummy was full. He set his wrist timer to check in another hour.
A call came in from Jalen to report the latest conditions in Whiterun and the public relations project with King Stormcloak Curtis had abruptly put on him.
"I'm glad to hear you're on your way to Markarth, Jalen. I'm looking forward to watching the video."
"The king was surprisingly easy to work with. Good ears, good timing. Excellent vocal control." This was high praise coming from a Dwemer. "If he'd had the patience to continue his mastery of the Voice, he'd come as near to rivaling the Dragonborn as one could get without actually being one."
"Yeah. That was obvious. He's got all the talent to be strong as a Greybeard but just wasn't a good fit in their way of life."
"Yes, my lord. So, aside from breaking security codes on the teleporter in Nchuand-Zel, is there anything else you want me to do?"
"Nothing I can think of right now. I'm sure we'll all have a better idea of direction once I get to SkyTemple."
They talked a bit more, then ended the call. Curtis played the Sovngarde music video with King Ulfric singing the part. Yeah, the master bard, who did the original vocal, couldn't match Ulfric's Greybeard-trained intonations.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
The offices of Staerk-Skjold Engineering Consultants were in the Wind District. A subsidiary of Snow Crown Investments with the primary research and development office in Winterhold. It was a business that didn't have physical products to sell and needed no storefront to attract street traffic for customers.
Curtis had created the company to handle all the job offers he was receiving at Winterhold and then let it be known that any proposals sent to his Winterhold office would automatically be rejected without review. Promising graduates of Winterhold's Community College for Crafters, if they didn't have employment already lined up, could come here if they qualified for an internship as an alternative to journeyman years gathering experience, so he saw familiar faces when he walked into the ground floor of offices and workrooms. There was a basement for storage, and the upper two levels were living quarters for Jalen and the interns.
However, he rented a house a couple hours' walk outside of the city to stay at. It was owned by Harbinger Farkas. Tundra Homestead, it was called. The Harbinger intended to make it a future home with his wife and future kids — a place separate from their respective businesses of Jorrvaskr Hall of the Companions and Honningbrew Meadery. It was a pretty piece of property near the White River. From there, one could easily see Honningbrew and the no-longer-secret tunnel entrance to Jorrvaskr, a secret exposed a few years ago when the Silver Hand invaded Jorrvaskr, murdered who they could in there, and stole the fragments of Wuuthrad.
Only two werewolves left in the Companions — Aela and Skjor. The Inner Circle of the Companions had done away with the beast blood requirement. The Companions were no longer Hircine's dogs. Kodlak had started that change when he dared to make Nicholas Faustus Felix, a staunch rejector of the blood, the next Harbinger. Then Felix, nearly two years later, was adopted by the Emperor and declared heir apparent of the Empire. He selected Farkas as the next Harbinger. Farkas had reinforced the rejection of beast blood when he and his brother, after Curtis told him how to break the curse, had taken the heads of the Glenmoril witches to offer to Ysgramor as an apology for accepting the beast blood.
Since it was his fault Jalen was in Markarth, Curtis handled the building paperwork at Staerk-Skjold while his group rested in Whiterun for the week. It wasn't too hard to catch up on the Whiterun projects since he could phone Jalen. The rest of the pile-up were proposals Jalen and Shivhis had already reviewed and were forwarding to Curtis's Winterhold office to accept or reject. And Shivhis was still here to help him when she wasn't out doing jobs for the Companions.
"Yes, I did find the Second Era teleport platform on the eastern side of Throat-of-the-World," Shivhis confirmed. "It's about three hours from Ivarstead. There's still a dirt path to it, what's left of what must have been a major road. A lot of frost wights in the area, too."
"How's the power level?"
"Weak."
"I wonder where the power moved to?" Curtis wondered aloud. Yeah, a lot of the world's power lines had been jerked around since the First and Second Eras, according to the one-night cram session done in Apocrypha. Tracking down all the teleport stations in Skyrim had started with Revyn Sadri in Windhelm, who had been desperately seeking travel alternatives for his wife ever since Curtis had told him about the Skyrim Game of Curtis's past life and the importance of Skuldafn. Sadri had known about Skuldafn from his own knowledge of Ebonheart history when the Pact used to meet in that city, and he knew there had been a teleport gate there. However, try as he might, none of his sponsored teleport projects worked, and his wife was forced to capture Odahviing and ride him to Skuldafn. Once she reached Skuldafn, only then was Sadri was to force the recreation of the Candlehearth Hall gate and connect to Skuldafn.
And Windhelm had been on an insane lockdown ever since. Security to get into the city was intense. It was forcing the fast development of suburbs outside the city, and many jobs coming to Staerk-Skjold Consulting were for water and sanitation projects to support the communities. Curtis had submitted warnings and possible solutions for urban sprawl to Sadri when the civil war had ended, and the returning Stormcloak army was straining Windhelm's resources. The explosive growth in Stormcloak lands was predictable as those Holds would be seen as a haven from the Concordat and the Dominion. "National Parks and Reserves" was a relatively new concept. King Ulfric had seen sense in imposing that over the arid central area of Eastmarch and the sacred Kynesgrove Forest.
The world was going crazy looking for the ancient teleport gates that had stopped working during the late Second Era when the Staff of Chaos shattered reality. Eight different futures realized and then forcefully smooshed back together again. Entire countries disappeared. Whole populations were displaced. The laws of magic were stretched and twisted to their limits before snapping back but permanently warped. Biggest Dragon Break ever, and Akatosh was still in traction.
The Dominion was putting pressure on the Imperial-allied Holds to get the secret of Windhelm's gate from their Stormcloak brothers. In response, General Tullius was finally giving Jarl Elisif some practical lessons about military rule and command so that she could begin holding her own against the new Dominion representative, a Justiciar Erave Jorian, Lady Elenwen's replacement after she had lost control of Skyrim. Jarl Idgrod the Younger tempered his lessons with points she'd learned from her mother and Sadri because martial law was not civic law. She also offered them timely advice from her visions. Jarl Balgruuf and his sons were stubbornly defiant and supported by the Empire's heir apparent, Felix Mede. No one bothered with Jarl Siddgeir, who had no influence as all the Jarls knew him to be a Dominion tool.
"A teleport in Whiterun? There has never been such a thing," said Balgruuf slowly as he pondered all the implications.
"A Dwemer-style teleport," said Curtis. This was a conference in Balgruuf's quarters with Frothar and Nelkir, his sons, and Farengar and Irileth present. The entire chamber was protected by a sound barrier Farengar had put up. "We've been planning it in Winterhold for a while now. Unlike the teleport system in use in the past, or like the one used in Windhelm, Mistwatch, and Skuldafn, just knowing Alteration magic is not enough to activate and operate the gate. On the off-chance the Dominion manages to re-activate their gates, they can't connect to a Dwemer gate."
"So they wouldn't be able to invade Whiterun like they would Windhelm," said Farengar.
"Yup. They would need an expert on Dwemer tech. Even then, the Dwemer system is set up like a bead chain. The key only allows you access to the 'beads' direction adjacent to yours. You can't just jump to any gate you want. Makes it easy to lock down if we detect unauthorized usage or hostile actions. And outside of Winterhold and Mistwatch, there's Mage Calcelmo in The Reach. I doubt they can capture him. All they can do is kill him, or he'll kill himself before giving them any secrets. Even so, he doesn't know enough about our gate technology and science to be useful to them."
"Can these keys be stolen?" asked Nelkir.
"Sure. But improperly activating the key or trying to use it at gates it's not meant for sends false signals. Too many, say, three false signals in a row, and our security system automatically locks out the key's identification code, rendering the key useless."
"How much power will it need?" asked Farengar. "Whiterun is fertile in crops and cattle but not so much in magicka. The Skyforge takes almost all of it."
"Well, since I'm imagining a limited-use gate, one running on minimal power, there are ways to generating extra power using the current of the White River," answer Curtis. "Power generators as used in the deep cities. Hydroelectric power can be used to boost majicka."
"Water wheels to grind out magic?" exclaimed Frothar, his eyes lighting. "Milling power?"
"Something like that," said Curtis. "As for power consumption, it does need quite a bit, but only when active. More for sending, less for receiving. Were such a gate to be built in Whiterun, we would also need to build a power bank to store enough power for the gate. And after use, the bank can be slowly refilled when the gate is not in use. Kind of like the new water towers for plumbing. That's called 'trickle charging.' And, of course, if the gate's not being used, some of that stored majicka could be used by any competent wizard."
"From this magical water mill you speak of," said Balgruuf.
"Primarily, yeah. But we can also set it up to borrow power from the Skyforge in an emergency. I mean, it's not like Gray-Mane forges twenty-four hours a day."
Curtis's wrist alarm chimed softly. "Well, I should let you folks discuss this. By your leave, my lords. I need to get to my next appointment."
"Wait. Where would you build this 'power mill?'" asked Irileth.
"Inside Dragonsreach. The wellspring under the palace. Where else would a Dwemer machine go?" He grinned at Irileth, who reluctantly smiled back.
"Of course you would," she conceded. "One mill. Dragonsreach will not be a second Understone Keep."
"No problem. As was said, Whiterun just doesn't have the power resources to support a Dwemer city because the Skyforge sucks it all up."
"Thank Talos for that," muttered Balgruuf. "Thank you for the information, Master Curtis. You've given me much to think about. Too much."
"No hurry, my lord. Even if you wanted to go for it today, I couldn't possibly start working on it for at least the next seven to ten years. But planning for it can occur sooner. You can have further discussions with Jalen on that."
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
Colette carefully examined the Falmer child. Ireyna watched her intently. She was a bit stiff but didn't seem to be in pain. Ilya sat on Ireyna's right, holding her hand. She looked preoccupied, but Curtis knew she was concentrating on her pain-soothing spell. To the left and nearly opposite of them sat Drevis. He looked to be more interested in his tea.
The babe passed Colette's sight, hearing, strength, and reflexes tests. She also used magic to examine the child's mental responsiveness and organ functions.
"Healthy overall," she pronounced. "His eyesight seems to be behind, and he'll likely be quite near-sighted. Hm, already showing signs of a lazy left eye. Unsurprisingly, his hearing is quite acute." She returned the babe to Ireyna. "I want to try tweaking his food to see if we can improve his gut health. What do you normally feed him, how often, and at what times does his appetite seem strongest?"
She kept Ireyna answering questions. Now that she was thoroughly distracted, Drevis lifted his gaze from his tea to focus on her. Ireyna's attitude towards him had been freezing from the very first. Drevis had been introduced to her as the school's master of the Illusion department. But Curtis has emphasized to her on the way here that Drevis had trained as a healer-priest of Vivec's Temple in Morrowind and that he and Ilya assisted Colette in treating people suffering the after-effects of trauma. But the only thing she seemed to understand was that she was required to tolerate his company because the College had no female Illusionist currently at his level.
Drevis radiated calmness and peace. His spell was urging trust and hope — not towards himself, not just yet; it was too soon. Ireyna would soon realize he was fiddling with her mental and emotional state. But before then, they hoped she could come to trust Colette and Ilya. Otherwise, she'd hurt herself if she went crazy fighting what she might perceive as yet another violation of her being, like a delusional intensive care unit patient panicking and ripping out the intravenous lines that trickled in blood, hydration fluids, and treatment drugs.
Colette finished grilling Ireyna about the baby's feeding habits and frequency and quality of bowel movements. "Now, I should like to examine you. Gentlemen?"
Curtis and Drevis promptly got to their feet and went to wait in the hall.
"The lady has a tough mind. I don't think she needs my help as much as she needs her body fixed. Telling a patient they're going to be fine when bone shards are slicing from the inside isn't going to work no matter how strong a spell I can cast. Sadly, removing all that is beyond Colette's skills. No offense intended."
"No, I agree," said Curtis. "Colette isn't a trained surgeon. Ireyna needs orthopedic surgery, orthodontia, and facial reconstructive surgery."
"You mean a chirurgeon who also practices face sculpting?"
"Uh, yeah. I heard there was once a face sculptor in Riften, but when I asked around I was told she'd moved off, and no one knows where she is now."
"What about the Altmer healers of your Hold?"
"Not in their skill set either. The nearest I can think of is Lady Valerica, but I don't think Ireyna trusts me enough yet to go that route. Hell, I wouldn't go under Valerica's knife, either. I'd sooner go cyborg like Sotha Sil. I don't know if I can even offer that route to her because none of my people are medical experts. And I got other priorities than ordering one of us to study medicine. I'm already pushing it with Jalen to study medical prosthetics to create artificial bones that can be safely integrated long-term into the body because I think Ireyna will reject the use of cadaver bones, which Lady Valerica has plenty of."
"I can see that," said Drevis, smiling faintly. "The idea of a new leg and hip bones coming off the Lady's dinner plate is unsettling. Or someone else's teeth in my mouth. Does your previous world practice that type of medicine?"
"Yeah. I was thinking of setting up a few dream screenings of two shows my mother got me into watching about cosmetic surgeries - 'Botched' and 'Botched Up Bodies.' As in bodies ruined by medical malpractice or mutilated in accidents or by birth, and some were just ridiculous exercises in vanity or insanity. I thought Colette and Ilya would be interested. Brother Salindil, too. You're welcome to sleep in on it if you're interested. The actual surgeries might not interest you, but some of the delusional thinking might."
"You have such a way of inviting bedmates," Drevis said sourly. "Though it sounds to me like you're making an invitation to a nightmare. But then, your dreams are rarely sweet dreams. Your everyday past world was terrifying."
"Not denying it," said Curtis, shrugging. "'Cuz truth is, can't blame either gods or demons for problems. It's all on us. As the Buddhists say, god is in each of us. Akatosh to Alduin, Sheogorath to Jyggalag — we rise and fall according to our abilities."
"Nice philosophy, but not always the case," said Drevis.
"It's the wheel of time. Every revolution, you can try again."
"That's the Yokudan religion. The universe is Satakal eating its own tail. When it finally chokes on its own ambition, everything restarts, and all souls that didn't make it to the Far Shores are reborn, except for Tamriel. All thanks to Lorkhan. When we die, we might be sent back if the gods permit. But more often than not, we're just cattle."
"All Lorkhan did was hold out the apple and tell them how good it was; the gods chose to bite."
"What?"
"Nevermind. Just another religion's dream and nightmare." Curtis smiled and began swaying and humming.
Drevis closed his eyes, anticipating some new musical horror.
"Sweet dreams are made of these. Who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas — everybody's looking for something.
"Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to get used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused…"
Related story(s): #41 Gardener of Mer
Related Shopkeeper's Wife story(s): #28 Doomsday
A/N: "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics