Lord of Souls: An Elder Scrolls Novel (28 page)

“If we could get back to the ruins of Vivec City, I could take us back onto my track. But getting there will take weeks, probably.”

“Assuming we can find a boat that will sail boiling water without cooking us. No, I think we might as well pay Clavicus Vile a visit. Maybe he’ll be in a hospitable mood.”

Sul took out the ointment he’d made back in Water’s Edge, what seemed ages ago, and dabbed some on Attrebus’s forehead. Then he stood the sword on its tip; he didn’t unwrap it, but instead closed his eyes and put his skull against the wrapping on the hilt.

For a long time nothing happened, except the air began to stink.

Then something like a fist seemed to grab him, yanking him so hard the blood rushed from his head and black spots danced before his eyes. He struck something, hard, and the wind left him.

The air still smelled bad, but it wasn’t the same stench that had been building in the cave. And as Sul managed to lift his head, he saw they weren’t in the cave any longer, but elsewhere.

Annaïg drifted across a floor of rose-colored crystal that gently rose and fell like the frozen swells of an ocean. It met the walls in gradual curves and then lifted into a vast, lucid canopy veined with softly shifting hints of color. Men and women danced on the uncertain floor, stepping, sometimes gliding, often leaving the surface altogether for a time, as weight was less present here than it was elsewhere in Umbriel. Filmy gowns of viridian, azure, hazel, and lemon spun out impossibly wide as they turned, and each garment chimed musical notes that subtly harmonized or clashed with those around them.

“Who are they?” she asked Rhel.

“Why, your peers, of course,” he replied.

“There can’t be this many chefs in Umbriel.”

“Certainly not,” he replied. “Only eight chefs stand high enough to join this company. But surely you don’t believe cooking is the only art valued by the lords of Umbriel? We love artistry of every sort, and thus value artists of all kinds. These are the most successful of them. Luel, there, he helped create this very room. Ten days ago it was a dark jungle, an homage to the first land we saw on
coming here—your homeland, as I understand it. It was wonderful, of course, but a few days and everything becomes boring. There is no worse taste than stasis, and I won’t be accused of it.”

“This is all yours?”

“Rhel Palace,” he said. “Greatest of the eight, if I say so myself.”

“How long has it been yours?”

Even with eyes as strange as his, she sensed his puzzlement.

“It has always been mine,” he replied. “I built it before Umbriel ever began its voyaging.”

“Oh,” she said.

“I am a high lord, Annaïg. We do not move through cycles as you do. We have always been and we remain. We were here at the beginning, and if there is an end we will be there, too.”

“I didn’t know,” she replied. “No one ever spoke of it to me.”

“I’m sure they assumed you knew, as I did. You mean to say that the lords in your world are not immortal?”

“For the most part, no,” she said. “The world down there isn’t much like this one at all.”

“Well, that’s a pity,” he said. “But you’re here now.” He touched her shoulder. “Enjoy yourself—I must attend to Umbriel.”

She nodded and, not quite knowing what to do with herself, walked carefully to the wall and looked out upon the Fringe Gyre and the landscape of Tamriel beyond. She saw mountains in the distance, forest and fields nearer, and wondered where they were now.

“Congratulations,” someone said.

She turned and found Phmer towering over her.

“Thank you,” she replied, not knowing how else to respond.

“I always knew that Toel’s arrogance would be his downfall,” Phmer said, following Annaïg’s gaze out into the world beyond. “He certainly underestimated you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she replied.

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” she said, and sighed. “Toel’s body was found in my kitchens. Now—I know that
I
didn’t put him there. I wondered how you could have done it until it became common knowledge that your friend was the leader of the skraws, and now it all comes together. You set us at each other’s throats. Perhaps you killed Toel by your own hand; perhaps your friend did it. It was all clever enough, I grant you. But I’m going to give you just this one warning, because there is something I like about you. You were able to accomplish all of this because no one knew just how devious you are—you played the guileless foreigner so well. Toel should have understood his danger when you framed Slyr, but—as I said—his arrogance got in the way. I will never underestimate you again, however. I do not think I am alone in that.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Annaïg said.

Phmer smiled, and lifted a finger toward the crystal wall. “Do you miss your world?”

“My world doesn’t exist anymore,” she said. “I don’t even know what country that is down there.”

“It is very large,” the chef said. “I find the idea of such a large world unappealing. One would always be lost, I should think. One would have trouble finding one’s place. Look how quickly you found yours here.”

She wanted to protest, but the fact was, it was true. In Lilmoth her life had been essentially aimless. She might have spent her whole existence without discovering a direction, never learned what a monster lurked beneath her skin, just waiting for an excuse to manifest. But Umbriel had brought it out of her in quite a short time. Maybe this was her destiny. Maybe this was where she belonged. Did she really care what happened to Attrebus and his empire? Hadn’t that just been a childish affectation, like everything else about her before coming here?

She noticed that Phmer was walking away, and was glad. She
idled another hour, speaking to no one, and then returned to her kitchen.

Yeum looked up when she entered.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Perhaps Rhel will allow me to send you as my proxy,” she said. “That way we should probably both be happier.”

“Toel enjoyed the company.”

“Well, I’m not Toel.”

Yeum bent back to her task. “They caught someone sneaking in from the pantry,” she said. “Do you want to see her, or shall I just have her killed?”

“Sneaking in to do what?” Annaïg asked.

“She had a knife. She was looking for you.”

Annaïg stood still for a moment, feeling as if she were shrinking somehow. How many people wanted to murder her now? How long could she last? Divines, was Yeum even telling the truth, or was this some sort of prank or trap?

“I’ll see her,” she finally said. “Where is she?”

“In the cell, of course.”

“We have a cell?”

“Certainly. Where do you think Toel put his prisoners?”

“I didn’t know he had prisoners,” Annaïg said. “In any case, where is it?”

“I’ll take you,” Yeum said.

She led the way, and Annaïg was careful to stay a few steps behind her.

The woman glared at Annaïg through the bars. She was young and pretty, and looked like a Dunmer. She wore peach-colored knee britches and a brown top. She didn’t look much like a killer.

“Are you her?” the woman blurted. “Annaïg?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“My name is Fhena.”

“Mere-Glim’s friend.”

“So he told you about me,” she said defiantly. “I came down here to kill you. Everyone knows what you did. He thought you were his friend. He loved you. And now his poor body is all cut up.”

“I loved him, too,” she said.

“So you killed him? That doesn’t make any sense.” Her eyes were wide and sad, and Annaïg felt just how fragile her anger was, sensed the artless innocence that lay behind the brave facade.

Or was that only how it seemed? Was she just trying to get a chance to strike?

But this Fhena was Glim’s friend, and she owed Glim.

“I want to show you something,” she told the woman. “If I let you out of there, will you promise not to try to hurt me?”

“I don’t think I could have done it anyway,” Fhena said after a moment. “I just don’t understand. I have to understand why you would do this to him.”

“Then come with me.”

She took the woman to her rooms, which had once been Toel’s, and led her back to the bath.

“There,” she said.

Fhena knelt and stared into the water at the translucent sack and the reptilian figure it contained. She looked up with tears in her eyes.

“It looks like him,” she said. “Smaller.”

“It doesn’t just look like him,” Annaïg said. “It
is
Glim.”

Fhena’s red eyes were huge as she looked back at the embryo.

“Is it?” she breathed.

“If I hadn’t killed him, someone else would have,” Annaïg explained. “This was the only way, as far as I could see.”

“But his body was cut up, parts of it everywhere …”

“True. They had to believe he was gone. The drug I put in the
water killed him, but it also made his body grow a crystal, a matrix containing his soul, his thoughts, memories—
him
. It’s similar to what we call a soul gem—and also, I believe, to your ingenium. I used that to quicken a proform, and here he is.”

“How long?” she wondered. “How long does it take?”

“I was able to speed up the process with him,” Annaïg said. “He’ll have an adult body in a matter of days.”

“And he’ll know me?”

“He’ll remember everything.”

Fhena clapped her hands together in delight. “That’s wonderful,” she said. “He thinks so much of you—I should have known. I should have known it wasn’t true.”

“I did kill him, Fhena. His body died, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that. Or if he will ever forgive me, for that matter.”

“But you just said it was the only way to save him.”

“It was the only way I could think of,” she replied. “But that doesn’t clean my hands.”

“But he’s coming back to us,” she said.

Annaïg nodded, not knowing how to respond. She had been forced to delay poisoning the trees until Glim could come out of the water—otherwise he would die with them. But the instant he was conscious, she planned to do it. If it worked, Umbriel would be crippled or destroyed, and there was a small chance that she and Glim might be able to escape. If it didn’t work …

“Listen to me,” she said softly. “There are other Argonian bodies growing in the sump. Only you and I will know this is Glim, do you understand? No one else can know, or he won’t be safe.”

“I understand that.”

“Make
him
understand that,” she said.

“Why can’t you?” Fhena asked.

“I hope to, but it may not be possible. If anything happens to me, you have to take care of him.”

Fhena turned her gaze back to the tub. “I’m not very smart,” she said. “I’m not strong at all. But I’ll do my best.”

She ran her fingers gently over the sack. Annaïg’s throat felt tight, so she left Fhena there with him and sat on the balcony, watching the life of Umbriel, wishing for its ruin.