Lord of Souls: An Elder Scrolls Novel (6 page)

“But in all of that—”

“Nothing. No Thalmor connections to the east at all.”

Marall looked sour. He took the other chair in Colin’s nook, slid it toward Colin’s desk, and sat down.

“Have you seen the reports concerning the flying city?”

“I haven’t, sir. Since being taken off the Attrebus case—”

“I’m sorry about that. The more so because you were right about everything. But you made Administrator Vel look foolish, and there you go. At least I managed to get you back on something—eh—important.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“I’m going to tell you a few things, Inspector, because I hope you may have some thoughts on them. But you understand you may not repeat them.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You’re aware, I imagine, of the stories in popular circulation concerning this—Umbriel.”

“I am. They are based, as I understand, on letters written by Prince Attrebus and sent to his biographers—before he vanished again.”

“Yes. They’ve rather captured the popular imagination. A flying city from Oblivion, populated by strange creatures, destroying all it passes over and creating an army of living dead from the corpses.”

“I’ve heard all of that.”

“Well, we’ve a good bit of information from our scouts now,” Marall said. “It’s all basically true. There are just a few new details. Umbriel—apparently the name of this thing—landed at Lilmoth and proceeded in a straight line toward, it appears, Vvardenfell. It is indeed accompanied by some sort of reanimated corpses, and those who die beneath it also rise again. But here’s the thing—the cities of Gideon and Stormhold were both overrun. Do you see what that means?”

“Neither lies between Lilmoth and Vvardenfell,” Colin answered after a moment’s thought.

“Correct. Apparently this army of the walking dead needn’t remain near its creator.”

“But do they continue to grow in numbers away from the island? Do they reproduce themselves?”

“That is unclear,” Marall replied. “What we do know is that a large force of them has entered Cyrodiil and seems to be making its way toward the Imperial City.”

“I see,” Colin said.

“Are you certain you’ve seen no evidence that they might be colluding with the Thalmor? If they strike from the east, and the Dominion from the west, or up the Niben, we could find ourselves in a very precarious state.”

“I’ve seen no evidence that the Thalmor are aware of these goings-on, much less that they are involved with them. Why—if I may ask, sir—why do you feel the Thalmor must be involved?”

“Well, if not them,
someone.
” He tugged at the slight beard under his chin. “You were educated concerning the Oblivion crisis, of course.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The received wisdom in the highest circles is that Tamriel can never be invaded from Oblivion again.”

“And yet we have been.”

“Yes and no. Umbriel is apparently not entirely
in
our world.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It exists in a sort of pocket of Oblivion.”

“And yet it can affect our world, obviously.”

“Yes. But the consensus opinion of both the Synod and the College of Whispers—who never agree on anything—is that even given its strange nature, Umbriel could not have come into Tamriel even so much as it has without being asked.”

“Asked?”

“Summoned. Conjured. Facilitated. The sort of wizardry one naturally associates with the Thalmor.”

Colin nodded. “More than ever, then,” he said, “I think we’re looking in the wrong place. Once it becomes clear we’re being attacked, I have no doubt that the Dominion will take some advantage of it, but in my opinion that would be to consolidate their hold on Valenwood while our attention is elsewhere. They have a plan, a plan laid out in decades—I don’t see them rushing into some strange alliance with an Oblivion prince or what-have-you.”

“Who then?”

“Why not the An-Xileel?”

“The lizards?” Marall’s voice dripped with contempt. “They’re entirely parochial. Even if they could muster the sort of arcane knowledge this would require, why would they bother? They’re content in their swamps.”

“They invaded Morrowind.”

“For revenge. They stopped their advance decades ago, and haven’t showed the slightest interest in doing anything since then.”

“Except keeping the Empire from reclaiming their territory,” Colin pointed out.

“To my knowledge, we’ve never tried to invade Black Marsh. Who wants it?”

“I just think they might bear looking at,” Colin said. “After all, that’s where Umbriel first showed up.”

Marall looked unconvinced, but then he nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll make the appropriate reports available to you, and send any requests for whatever else you may need through my office. You were right about the Attrebus thing, after all. But—keep your head low, yes? I don’t need this getting back to Vel.”

“Understood, sir.”

He watched Marall go, and then returned his gaze to the papers, but he wasn’t really seeing them.

The Intendant was probably right that the An-Xileel were not a threat. They were entirely nativistic in their views, interested only in purging the former colonial influences and returning Black Marsh to whatever state they imagined it had been in before it was ruled by foreign powers. And technically, of course, Umbriel had appeared somewhere out at sea, so one might just as well suspect the elusive Sload of having helped the flying city conjure its way into Tamriel. After all, they were supposed to be great sorcerers.

He turned it around a few ways and didn’t get anything, so he directed his thoughts to his other “case.” There wasn’t much there either. Despite her dramatic recruitment of him, he hadn’t heard from Arese, and since he didn’t have anything to tell her, he didn’t see any point in risking contact with her.

He got the intelligence from Black Marsh a few hours later. He started with the most recent stuff; both the College of Whispers and the Synod had collected intelligence remotely, but there were also a number of on-the-ground reports. A few had been relayed by riders, but most were also transmitted through sorcerous means. It was mostly information regarding the size and travel path of Umbriel, and the accounts of Stormhold and Gideon seemed somehow light. Feeling he was missing something, Colin
turned to what little they had in the way of information regarding the An-Xileel.

He found something very interesting indeed.

It had rained, and Talos Plaza was awash in reflected torch and lamplight. The air still smelled clean as Colin stepped through the puddles. A troupe of Khajiit acrobats was performing nearby, gracefully tumbling, forming unlikely structures with their feline bodies, juggling sparkling torches. A crowd clapped and tossed coins at their feet. He passed through a group of kids enthusiastically swinging at one another with wooden swords, and felt stiffness in this throat. He’d been like them once. He remembered playing such games. But he couldn’t remember at all how it felt.

A few steps to the right, and he stood in the near utter darkness of an alleyway. Here, a man could die—or kill—and those in the plaza with its light and merriment would never be the wiser.

She noticed him too late. If he’d meant to end her, he could have, and she knew it. For the first time since he’d met her, Arese’s controlled expression cracked, and he saw something that looked very much like fear. He could almost hear her heart pounding.

“Easy,” he said. “I needed to see you. I was afraid to send any sort of message.”

She took a step back, swallowed, and the mask went back on.

“How did you know I would come this way?” she asked.

“You usually do. You’re on your way to meet your sister at the pub, and you always cut through here.” He indicated the narrow lane with a slight twist of his head.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

“Not lately. Before. I wondered why you come through here rather than staying on the street.”

She vented a self-deprecating chuckle. “So I can hear if anyone
is following me,” she replied. “No one ever is, and so I’ve gotten careless. What do you need?”

“I was looking at reports dealing with Black Marsh,” he told her. “They’ve been censored—by Minister Hierem’s office.”

“That’s not terribly surprising,” she said.

“How is that?”

“Hierem made a secret trip to Black Marsh last year, ostensibly to negotiate with the An-Xileel leaders. He would have had anything suggesting his presence there removed.”

“That explains the older reports,” Colin said. “But I’m talking about intelligence gathered recently, concerning the attacks from the flying city.”

“That’s interesting,” Arese replied. “That’s really very interesting. You think there’s some connection between this and the attempt on Attrebus?”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt about it,” Colin said. “Attrebus was on his way to attack Umbriel. We know that from several sources, including the broadsides posted on every street corner. Clearly Hierem wanted to prevent that, to delay any Imperial confrontation with this thing for as long as possible. Now we know a force from the city is already in eastern Cyrodiil.”

“Umbriel has also turned,” Arese said. “It is now moving over the Valus Mountains toward the Imperial City.”

“Well, then,” Colin said, “what we have to ask ourselves is why Hierem wants Umbriel to attack the Imperial City. What’s his relationship with it? Do you have any ideas?”

“None. Do you?”

“Well, I think Hierem summoned Umbriel,” he said. “Helped it come here, whatever. That suggests he has some sort of bargain with whoever is master of the flying city.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Arese said. She frowned. “It will be trouble to get the uncensored documents. He keeps things like that—if he keeps them at all—in his private rooms.”

“Did anyone go with him to Black Marsh?” he asked.

“Yes, let me think. He took—” Then her eyes widened. “Well, that’s no good,” she said.

“What?”

“He took Delia Huerc. But she’s dead.”

“Dead? Murdered?”

“An illness of some sort, according to the report, and there wasn’t any reason to doubt it. Now—well, what’s to be done about it?”

“Anyone else?”

“He hired a merchant ship and traveled in disguise. I’m sure the name of the ship has been removed from any records.”

“He had to pay for it.”

“He didn’t want the Emperor to know, so he probably paid out of pocket. He’s not without his own wealth.” She looked around. “This is going on too long,” she said. “Is there anything else?”

“Delia Huerc. Where did she live?”

“I don’t know, but I can get that. Look for a message from me.”

“Okay.”

She started to go, but then turned. “Good work,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Next time, come to my house. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do. Come to the window above the alley and tap it four times. If I’m there, I’ll come. And watch your back. Things are getting very paranoid in the ministry. There are questions where there shouldn’t be.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said.

She nodded and started walking.

“You be careful, too,” he said.

She paused for an instant, but didn’t look back, and then continued on her way.

Annaïg stared out at the shimmering green sump and delicate, insectile buildings that climbed and depended from the stone walls of the conical valley at Umbriel’s heart. Above, shining through the glittering strands of what resembled a giant spiderweb or some vast sea invertebrate, shone the sun of Tamriel. The sun she had been born under. It made her feel tight, claustrophobic, to know the light of that sun could illume the flying city, touch her, warm her—but that she could not go up through that sky, be in the wider world that orb washed with its radiance.

“You’ve not been here in a while,” Toel said.

Annaïg forced herself to look at him. She had first seen Toel when he and his staff had slaughtered everyone in her former kitchen—everyone but Slyr and her. Even then, surrounded by brutally murdered corpses, he’d been calm, serene really. She had been terrified of him then, and was even more so now. She felt that at any moment he would stand, take her by the shoulders, and push her over the balcony to her death. Afterward, he would never think of her again.