Chapter 35:
The ghosts wailed as Brelyna and Onmund cut them down. The ghost fence collapsed. Uncaged, the dragon priest shrieked as it flew upward to escape the flame bath and — FUS RO! — was slammed against the back wall. Still, it managed to blast Valdimar and J'zargo with the Magnus staff, sucking out their magic, rendering them unconscious. Tariq and Lydia cut into it with their swords — the silver scimitar and the Akaviri poison fang.
The thing was fast. Tariq and Lydia cut it legs to the bone, but that hardly mattered to a flying corpse. It flew higher. Idgrod's Oblivion arrows coated in magicka poison feathered it's neck and chest, weakening it. Its flight became erratic. Tariq was able to knock it completely out of the air with another shout. He and Lydia then chopped it apart.
While he checked on Valdimar and the cat mage, Brelyna ran down to snatch up the Eye of Magnus, the entire reason she and her friends had taken on this dangerous mission. Idgrod and Onmund went to check on Rodina and the status of the Thalmor.
"How are they?" asked Brelyna, crouching beside J'zargo.
"They did crack their heads against the stones when they fell," said Tariq, "but nothing else broken as far as I can tell." He dribbled a little potion in Valdimar's mouth. The Nord coughed it back out and groaned, his eyes squinting open.
"Thane?"
"The damn fiend is dead. Here." He pushed the potion bottle into Valdimar's hand and went over to the cat. He knew from experience in dosing his mother's non-sentient pet cat that prying open a jaw filled with sharp teeth to pour medicine in was not something he wanted to do. The Khajiit's teeth wouldn't penetrate his Dwemer gloves, but he would feel bad if the cat broke his teeth against them. Instead, he held the opened potion just under J'zargo's nose. Even unconscious the cat didn't like the potion's bitter smell. A reflexive grimace and Tariq quickly poured a stream between the teeth. J'zargo swallowed, made a faint, whining noise, and sneezed. Tariq gave Brelyna the potion and left her to tend to her fellow apprentice.
He went to the exit tunnel, Lydia on his heels. They heard Onmund shouting.
"I don't give a shit what Ancano wants! Don't you realized that he's gone mad? Do you honestly think he'll meekly give the staff and the Eye of Magnus to the Dominion? He isn't serving anyone or anything but himself. The moment you blind fools fail to hail him as the god he thinks he is, he'll destroy the Summerset Isles too!"
Sep's teeth! So the scavengers finally move. He caught up with them just as Rodina was using her bow to shoot down the fire pots strung behind the tattered banners on the ceiling. The elves didn't realize what she was doing; their attention was on Idgrod and Onmund. Onmund stood at the forefront, baiting the enemies' attention, and attacking them with both lightning and magelight staves. Though one attack was physically harmless, Onmund was channeling all his power into the magelights to create multiple, blinding intangible orbs that stuck to armor and faces, blotting out all vision. Whether holding up ineffective magic or moonstone shields before them, all the blinded enemy could do was stumble forward through a curtain of burning oil and into Onmund's lightning bolts and Idgrod's arrows. Those soldiers that succeeded in charging through were cut down by Tariq and Lydia.
They retreated to the tomb room and waited for the fire to finish burning the bodies.
"Was not J'zargo's trap magnificent?"
"Right, right. You're a master of destruction," conceded Onmund with a long-suffering sigh.
"You're not so bad mayhem yourself, Onmund," said Rodina. "You've got proper ice in your blood for a battlemage."
Onmund rolled his eyes. "That wasn't the point of my becoming a mage. I love the tales of the ancient Clever Crafters of Atmora and I wanted to be one. I want to study the stars. But my family are soldiers and hunters of The Pale and making the excuse for battle was the only way I could get my father to agree to fund my first year in Winterhold. It was all thanks to my grandfather, who served in the Legion during the Great War and in a unit with battlemages, that I got the money."
"You arrived months before courses started," commented Brelyna.
"Yeah. My grandfather heard Jarl Skald's soldiers were on their way to gather conscripts for the Stormcloak army, and they were coming for all the men and women of my age group. He told me the Stormcloaks had no use for mages, even battlemages, so ordered me to get to Winterhold even though it meant living in a tent in one of the ruined houses down on the coast and hunting for food and doing odd jobs until classes for new apprentices started." He pulled out an amulet of Talos. "This was my grandfather's. I owe you, Brelyna, for getting it back for me."
"If not for battle, what are your interests in magic?" asked Tariq. "You said stars. I came to Skyrim because my honored teacher in alchemy also studies the sky. He read the stars for me and told me my next path to mastery was in this land. My skills have improved, but those teachers…" He muttered resentfully, thinking of Calcelmo, Fasendil, Athis — elven instructors he would have never encountered in Hammerfell. And the same for his werewolf Nord instructors in the Companions. Back in Hammerfell, he would've drawn his sword to kill them without a second thought. Priest Mehmet, who taught him alchemy and the way poisons could be used to heal, likely read this from the markers Tall Papa had put in the stars. It would explain the strange riddle Mehmet had given him: "Your path is littered with stumbling blocks in a field of rubble. You will be required to walk the path of Sep. Is your hunger as great as his?"
Onmund blushed slightly. "I like star watching. Astrology, astronomy — trying to understand the connections. I mean, how could I not wonder if the moons above are truly the remains of Shor. Lorkhan. Shezarr. And the belt of stars. Is that the Far Shores of Yokuda? Or a section of the great Satakal?"
"They study that at Winterhold?"
"Well, no. But the library is great. They managed to hold onto stuff from before the Second Era when a lot of dragon breaks happened and the Staff of Chaos cracked the world, turning the laws of magic turned upside down. Most of the old magics don't work or can't be repaired or duplicated so most institutes dumped their ancient collections as useless, but Winterhold held onto most of its old textbooks, studies, and experiments reports. I'd found old notebooks saying the college used to have an astronomy tower, but lost it in the Great Collapse."
"There are rumors of great secrets hidden in the Midden," J'zargo chipped in.
"Ambitious," pronounced Idgrod. "Trying to second-guess the gods also speaks for a clever and curious mind."
"I'm not trying to second-guess the gods," said Onmund, his blush deepening. "I'm just trying to understand the natural world. My mother's family has antiques that showed they once worshiped Jhunal, the Owl god of Wisdom. Despite what the Imperial Cult teaches, Jhunal is not the same as Julianos. Julianos teaches the wonders of magic. Jhunal teaches to appreciate the power of the natural world. I suppose to most people it sounds the same, especially if one considers majicka a natural part of the world."
"Is it not?" asked J'zargo.
"Oh, not this again," interrupted Brelyna. "I haven't had enough sujamma to debate religion."
"I enjoy a good debate on religion," said Tariq. "But I agree that this is not the time for that. Shall we see if the Thalmor are finished with dying?"
… … …
Onmund assured him that by the time they got to Winterhold, the worst of winter should have passed. Of course, J'zargo muttered to him privately, a Nord's definition of spring in Winterhold was still bitter cold to anybody else. There was still ice and snow, but at least the snowstorms went from every other day to every other week.
The apprentices had volunteered to help take down the dragon at Skyborn Altar, making the event ridiculously easy. The Staff of Magnus was a powerful weapon that quickly drained the hapless dragon of its power and life essence, grounding it and reducing it to a mewling, crippled creature that Tariq quickly put out of its misery. Even absorbing its soul felt like drinking watered down ale. But there was enough power to fuel his understanding of the word from Bromjuur.
TIID was time. The effect was to his perception of time, seeming to slow the world down, or was it he was sped up? A shifting of time perception. He went around the mountain testing his normal speed against the time-affected run with Valdimar calling a marching cadence for timekeeping. He concluded he actually sped up relative to the world. If it was just perception, his reactions would have been bogged down in normal time, like the lazy running during dreaming where there was so much effort for so little result.
While running and jumping around the mountain he discovered two things. One was another of those strange star stones or watcher stones. This one had the constellation of The Lord. He had wondered what The Lord's gift would be if he touched it, but he was satisfied enough with the blessings of The Thief guardian. And then there was that shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. The statue of the enthroned Daedra was more than a hundred feet high, and at its base was a sealed door. No key nor obvious pull-chain or lever in the area. So a ritual or spell was needed to open it, or the whim of the Daedra. By the untouched snow iced around it, the altar was not in current use.
"Oh, yes, another place in Hjaalmarch we're not so proud of," remarked Idgrod when he'd expressed his disgust at finding it. "Mother keeps an eye on the place to make sure no stupid cult starts up around it, especially since we've heard from Brina Merilis from Dawnstar that recently a fool has opened his home as museum dedicated to glorifying the Mythic Dawn Cult and claims he is a descendant of one of the assassins selected to kill Uriel Septim."
"A wise precaution," Tariq said sourly. I recently helped the legate near Ivarstead clear out a new Mythic Dawn cult digging around in an Ayleid ruin looking for magic stones that could open a new Oblivion Gate."
"Ayleid ruin in Ivarstead?" exclaimed Brelyna. "You're joking, right? Did the Ayleids really come this far north over the Jeralls?"
"Evidently, according to Legate Fasendil, who did the translations of what was carved into the temple walls. It's at Arcwind Point if you're interested. Though, he caved in the entrance tunnel to discourage any more digging by the cultists."
"Fasendil? That's an Altmer name. There's an Altmer Legion officer in Stormcloak territory?"
"Yes, and very unhappy about it," said Rodina. "Ah, and speaking of Fasendil and Ivarstead, that reminds me we should swing by High Hrothgar and present the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. That should get them to officially declare you the Dragonborn."
Tariq grimaced. Somehow, he had forgotten about that annoying detail. "After Winterhold and getting what words we can find up there," he said.
"The words at Anthol, Sarthaal, and the tomb," said Onmund helpfully. "Oh, and I've learned that it's the real tomb of Ysgramor, companion. Legends say he's buried beneath Windhelm, but that's not quite true. His burial chamber was prepared there, but during the end of his reign he had a smaller tomb built near what used to be Hsaarik Head on the Broken Coast where the college now stands, where he and the first wave of colonists from Atmora landed."
"I've quit the Companions for now," Tariq grudgingly admitted, glancing at the Nord. Onmund's reflected his puzzlement and then acceptance.
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. But I'm sure you had your reasons," said Onmund. "If I think about it, hunting dragons must take so much of your time in travel and preparations that you cannot do that and fulfill your duties as a Companion."
"Mm, yes," Tariq agreed evasively. Onmund's excuse was much better than admitting he'd quit because he couldn't stand the thought of associating with a deceptive pack of werewolves who yipped about strength they got by groveling at Hircine's cloven hooves. Not all of them, a part of his conscience whispered. Only the Circle are infected. The rest of them earn their skills honorably and do without Hircine's demonic gift. They are the ones upholding the legacy of the Companions without being the dogs of a daedra.
If only I could make Aela see that.
They went to Whiterun so the mages could hire a wagon for the return trip to Winterhold. None of them had been comfortable riding the loaner horses from the Morthal stables. Tariq and his party kept their horses, but a wagon was useful for carrying more supplies.
The Winterhold guards were on high alert. Dangerous will-o-wisps from the college frequently appeared in the town, killing animals or fools who tried to fight them alone instead of fleeing. Most of the college staff and all of the students were in town. An elderly mage whom the three novices seemed to trust, explained events since they'd left for Labyrinthian.
After killing the arch-mage, Ancano had put an impenetrable barrier around the central hall. For the first two weeks nothing happened. The Eye of Magnus had to be sustaining him on majicka alone because nothing passed that barrier, not sound nor air, much less food and water. The greedy eye was taking all the majicka it saw. Ancano's barrier had started slowly expanding two weeks ago, like a herd of hungry goats ripping up spells to the roots, leaving nothing behind. The college's majicka systems — the weather protection barrier keeping out storms and the college at minimum warmth level, the internal isolation barriers on laboratories, storages, and practice rooms, and the water spells drawing up and desalinating the sea water — were faltering, near collapse, or had already collapsed.
Two days ago the entire college and pillar it was built on started trembling. Master of Mages Mirabelle Irvine ordered the the evacuation of the college and the senior masters tried once again to breach the shield around the Eye. The effort again failed. A retaliatory explosion was imminent and she ordered the masters of get out, sacrificing her own life to suppress the explosion until they were clear. She died, and the barrier expanded to its present size. Most of the masters now concentrated on minimizing the appearances of the deadly will-o-wisps. Nevertheless, some still escaped to menace the town below.
"Tolfdir, do they have it?" demanded the ferocious-looking Altmer woman when they reached the second majicka well halfway up the bridge to the college. There were other senior mages here. And halfway up the last lengthy rise to the college Tariq could see the great barrier engulfing the college like a beautiful soap bubble of swirling colors. Flashes of light popped out, the deadly will-o-wisps flying out on their mission of destruction.
"They have it, Faralda," said the old mage.
"What does the staff do, apprentice?" demanded the Altmer.
"Drains majicka. If there's little or no majicka left, it starts draining life energy, Master Faralda," answered Brelyna.
"Appropriate," pronounced the Altmer. She pointed at the barrier. She pointed at one of her young assistants. "You, get to the town and warn them another wave is coming. Everyone else, get ready to shoot down the sprites!" Majicka potions were distributed.
While they waited, Brelyna introduced Tariq and his companions, and she introduced the apparent new leader of the college, Master Faralda, senior instructor of the Destruction arts. Brelyna then gave a brief report of events at Labyrinthian. The masters gathered around and listened intently. Tariq was surprised that none of the elders appeared to question or doubt her tale.
"Phynaster preserve us, that explains so much," said Master Faralda, sighing. "And Phynaster has certainly favored you three. Well done. And you," she turned to Tariq and bowed her head. "An honor to meet you, Dragonborn. Please, accept our thanks for your assistance at Labyrinthian and your aid with our current trouble. If we survive this disaster, it would be our honor and pleasure to return the favors."
A trumpet sounded below signaling that all the wizards and guardsmen of the village were ready for an attack wave.
"Break that barrier, Brelyna."
As the Destruction master expected, once the barrier fell it birthed a horde of malevolent sprites. A vanguard of six senior destruction students was led by the Illusions master Drevis Neloran who deftly aggravated the sprites to focus their attention on the destruction student mages and completely ignore the attack team of Faralda, Tolfdir, Brelyna, Tariq, and Valdimar.
From the primary gates to the Hall of Elements and directly to the central hall. The Hall of Elements was a beautiful structure of graceful columns of marble and support arches that was unusual in most Nord architecture. There was a certain elven grace. Tariq was no expert on architecture or construction, but the impressions he received were not Dwemer, Ayleid, or Aldmer.
Central in the Hall was the largest majicka well he'd ever seen. Majicka, like liquid of shimmering Aetherius blue, emanated light like a column rising to the distant peak of the Hall. Floated a few meters above the surface of the well was a silvery orb, its surface covered in unfamiliar writing.
"It's not a living creature such as we define one," said Idgrod this morning during breakfast in their camp at Whistle Mine. She'd had another restless night of dreams. "But there is something there. It was made by a god, a receptacle of his knowledge, and given automatic function commands that could be conceived as a mind. It was less ego than a mouse, but it has a sort of self-awareness and function to self-preservation. As much as a machine — or a zombie — can have one."
"Like a Dwemer automaton except made by a god then?" speculated Tariq.
"It would seem so. And worse, a tool-using one. That story Brelyna said of when it was first found, that the draugr was using it to protect itself? I now think it was the other way around. It was using the draugr."
"So you've come for me, have you?" screamed the mad Thalmor.
The elderly mage, Tolfdir, not looking so distracted as his students often described him, rapidly assessed the situation and rapped out orders. "The staff, use it on the Eye," he instructed Brelyna. "Disrupt the Eye's feeding, that's all you have to concentrate on. Faralda, you and I must break his connection and kill him. Valdimar, protect Brelyna. Dragonborn, your primary is to also protect Brelyna, but I am also going to trust your judgment should Ancano prove too strong and insane for us to handle."
"Is he a battlemage?" asked Tariq.
"We don't know," admitted Master Faralda. "Justiciars receive basic battlemage training, but his field of expertise and his actual experience is unknown."
"All that matters is that he's insane," Master Tolfdir asserted curtly.
"Kill him only if we can't subdue him," said Master Faralda. "There is still the possibility he's being controlled."
Tolfdir didn't reply, instead bolted left around the central majicka well and the Eye to get a clear shot at the Thalmor. Faralda went right.
"Valdimar," said Tariq. The Nord nodded and swung Tariq's borrowed Dwemer shield off his back, planted it atop the floor, and crouched behind it. Based on Brelyna's story of when the Thalmor had killed the previous arch-mage, they anticipated a majicka overload attack.
Brelyna powered the staff up and focused on the Eye. The air around the Eye wavered then seemed to explode in blinding light. Tariq dropped to one knee, fighting to stay conscious. His armor was shimmering, deflecting most of the energy. Valdimar was likewise struggling. Brelyna was still upright, the staff protecting her. Tariq glanced around. Both senior mages also appeared unconscious, and majicka shields they had blasted away by the Eye. He hoped they were still alive.
Sprites and Oblivion summons were appearing. Ice monsters to crush the unconscious mages. Tariq rallied and shouted, shattering the ice. He heard the Thalmor cursing race around to attack Brelyna. Valdimar swung his shield around, blocking the lightning bolt. Tariq cut down four sprites diving at Brelyna.
More ice monsters appeared.
"Brelyna, Valdimar, can you hold without me?"
Brelyna managed to conjure up one of her flame-throwing, sword-wielding scamps. The creature obviously to enjoyed killing sprites. "I can manage that," she shouted.
"I'm good, my thane."
Tariq went first to Tolfdir. The man was still alive so he poured a small vial of majicka restore into him. The old battlemage coughed back to consciousness with no confusion.
"Thanks, Dragonborn," he grunted as Tariq pulled him up. He let go of Tariq's hand and darted after the Thalmor.
The Thalmor shrieked curses. "And Talos take you and the Dominion," Master Tolfdir shouted back.
"Blasphemy!"
"That's only a matter of opinion, Ancano," said Master Faralda.
Tariq could see he wasn't their match. But he fought like a madman, and he was only holding his own by sheer power that he'd gotten from the Eye. He made attempts to reconnect to his power source, but Brelyna's constant suppression with Staff of Magnus prevented this. He went back to her side. "How are you doing?"
"The Staff is running out of power," she said worriedly. "I will need to recharge it. Master Ancano may reconnect with the Eye while I do that. And I only have five lesser soulgems on me. That's not near enough for the staff."
"I see. But I, at least, am able to Shout again."
He eyed the distance to Ancano. The number of sprites had lessened. The Thalmor was too beseiged to summon any more Oblivion demons. He holding a majicka shield only, not actively attacking.
Tariq knew his sword was more than enough to shatter that barrier. "TIID," he whispered and dashed forward.
The Eye had certainly enhanced the Thalmor's awareness. Impressive. He could sense Tariq's nearness, even turned his face toward him. Still, he could only watch helplessly as Tariq's sword swung down.
He dropped as Tariq's pommel clipped his head.
"Oh, thank the Ancestors that's over. But what do we do with this thing now?" asked Brelyna.
Space warped and four tall, hooded figures appeared. "Oh, the Psijics," groaned Brelyna. The spoke to the mages. Or, more precisely, the lead Psijic spoke to Brelyna and ignored the others. He congratulated her on her victory and informed her the Psijic Order would be taking charge of the Eye because it was too unstable and beyond the capacity of the College to control. Of course it was, and of course they would. Their patronizing tone was typical of the Altmer, and the Psijic's "magic is for the elite" belief was still evident. They concluded by congratulating Brelyna as the new arch-mage of the college, took the Eye of Magnus, and left. Nice of them to leave her the Staff.
"No! Oh, no! I don't want to be the arch-mage," exclaimed Brelyna. "Master Tolfdir, Master Faralda, one of you has to be the arch-mage. I'm not qualified yet. And I know if I write home about this, my obnoxious aunt will come here to take over or, even worse, the clan father would. You don't want Arch-Master Neloth coming to Winterhold!"
The college staff, instructors, and students moved back in. The senior instructors gathered in the arch-mage's quarters to debate the validity of the Psijic's elevation of Brelyna to arch-mage. Of course, the Psijic Monks truly had no authority to appoint officers of Winterhold College. Brelyna was still a first-year student. She, J'zargo, and Onmund had earned special honors for their actions, that wasn't being questioned. However, if she decided she wanted to try for the arch-mage's position in future after she had graduated and gotten more experience under her belt, having this victory on her school record would be a huge advantage.
While the seniors were debating, Tariq and his party were allowed to occupy the guest rooms in the college and given free access to common areas of the college. Tariq and Valdimar made use of the enchantment and potion-making equipment. Rodina and Idgrod raided the Arcaneum, cozying up to the Orsimer in charge as the fastest way to finding the books they wanted to read. Lydia preferred to stay down in town and take care of the horses and gather gossip. She also made it her duty to establish relations with the Jarl of Winterhold, even going so far as to take on a bandit's den to retrieve the Jarl's family helmet that had been grave-robbed.
Rodina also did her job of promoting Tariq to the Jarl and his nobles. All of Skyrim had heard the summons of the Greybeards. Jarl Korir had seen a dragon flying over the mountains and near fainted with fear as it came down to circle around the college. He was elated that the Dragonborn had come, but disappointed that the Dragonborn was not a Nord. She managed to coax the Jarl and his court around by telling them of Tariq's battles with the Dominion in Hammerfell. And though he was not a believer in Shor or Talos, his god was known for making trouble with anything that would endanger the Redguards, and that made him determined to fight the dragons here in Skyrim to prevent them from spreading into his homeland. She would have brought in the connection with the Invalids and the Nords who volunteered to fight for Hammerfell, but Jarl Korir had been too young to fight in the Great War and his father too old. So she impressed on them that Tariq was of an old and aristocratic line of priests and sword saints.
She also pounded in the fact that Tariq had no interest in the Civil War. And though he was a thane in both The Reach, Whiterun, and Hjaalmarch, they were ceremonial appointments only. He would not be leading any battles in Stormcloak lands or against any Stormcloak forces.
Would he be interested in becoming a thane in Winterhold?
While the Dragonborn actively opposed the Dominion, he was not interested in fighting the Empire despite its betrayal of Hammerfell during the Great War.
Because he believed the Dominion was tricking both the Empire and Skyrim. What they were doing in Skyrim they were doing in Hammerfell — Nords of the Imperial Holds versus Nords of the Old Kingdom Holds, and in Hammerfell it was the Crowns against the Ra Gada.
Was it not part of an ancient prophecy and warning?
When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.
This was recorded in the Second Era, maybe even earlier because it came from the first Akaviri invaders. Skyrim was the "Snow Tower" that was sundered, kingless, and bleeding. Alduin, the god, has returned and is bringing back the ancient dragons. She tried explaining the prophecy, but it became clear Jarl Korir wasn't one for ancient legends unless it pertained to his personal family history and Jarl Hanse who'd lost his bid for High King to Olaf One-Eye of Whiterun.
As for what the Dragonborn was doing in the college, he had friends in the college. Was that a problem?
Apparently, it was.
"What a short-sighted fool," said Tariq when Rodina revealed the results of her latest talks with the Jarl and his court.
"Well, he's willing to, um, 'overlook the college causing trouble with the Thalmor' if we find his ancestor's helmet that was grave-robbed some months ago."
"We'll fine some students to look for it," said Master Tolfdir. "You shouldn't be obliged to indulge Jarl Korir's petty whims for our sake."
"I have little objection to looking for it while looking for word walls," said Tariq, shrugging. "Onmund has volunteered to help me look up those word walls, and I'm assuming the compatriots he will choose to assist won't be useless incompetents if they're willing to help me take down a dragon. I would assume those same students would be capable of facing robbers.
"Ah, well, you would know as you may also expect Brelyna and J'zargo to be part of that group," Master Tolfdir said, smiling. "They are a lively trio. J'zargo wants to test more of his destruction scrolls and Brelyna is fascinated by your shouting ability. I don't know if you know ancient history between Nords and Dunmer, but at one time we Nords, led by the Tongues, conquered most of Morrowind. It took the combined armies of Chimer and Dwemer to drive us out."
"Chimer. Yes, I recall reading a little bit about that dissident group of Altmer. When did they change into Dunmer?"
"When The Three — Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil — declared themselves gods after the disappearance of the Dwemer race and King Nerevar's death," answered Master Tolfdir. "The Daedric prince Azura turned the Chimer into what they are now as proof of their faithlessness in her. That's a polite summary. Brelyna may have a more dramatic version. As a Telvanni, she's does not promote any particular religious version and will tell Morrowind's history as the Telvanni know it."
"Aside from those three, you may want to take one or two of Jarl Korir's current thanes with you," suggested Rodina. "It may allay some of the Jarl's concerns about you being so friendly with wizards. That would be good. Throw him a bit of glory. He's rather insecure about his influence with the other jarls. That should get you two warriors then Idgrod and I won't feel guilty staying behind to continue our research in the Arcaneum," said Rodina.
"A good idea," said Tariq neutrally. Some political appeasement was not a bad idea. "Would you arrange it for me?"
Rodina laughed. "Sure, I can do that."
"Make sure one of them is Thane Roland," said Idgrod. "He may be the youngest and appointed only because his father give his life to protect the jarl, but the kid's sensible, practical, and young enough to befriend the jarl's son. He also has a touch of majicka in him. A bit of a mystic, nearer the Illusions school. I'd call him a 'weather witch' if I had to name his potential talent."
"One who can control the weather?" asked Tariq, interested.
"No. Rather, he can sense the weather and know well in advance when there are dangerous storms or periods of good weather."
"Useful," pronounced Tariq. "What the Nords have been calling a mild and temperate weather today is still too cold for me. I am not looking forward to hunting in Winterhold."