“Hang on there, then,” the man said. “I’ll convey your request to his lordship.”
He vanished from the wall.
“Naturalist?” Sul asked.
“I’ve always been interested in those sorts of things,” Attrebus said.
“Not enough to actually read about them, so far as I’ve seen,” Sul said.
“Well, here’s my opportunity,” Attrebus replied.
An hour passed and most of another before the gate creaked and finally opened. The man from the wall was there, and a thin, ascetic-looking Dunmer woman with a long queue, clad in a flowing black robe embroidered with the stylized form of a draugr. Her gaze flicked over them a bit distastefully.
“Welcome to Sathil Manor,” she said. “Isilr was a bit confused about your purpose here. I wonder if I could prevail upon you to reiterate it.”
“Of course,” Attrebus said. “It’s nothing complicated, really. The Emperor in Cyrodiil has commissioned a new guide to the Empire and independent realms of Tamriel. I’ve been sent here to collect general information on the area for the guide.”
“You’re not just spying on our horkers, then, but on us as well?”
“Spying? I wouldn’t put it that way, my lady.”
She smiled thinly. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have been instructed to offer you lodging and whatever help you require-within reason, of course.”
“Of course, lady. That is most hospitable.”
She nodded wanly. “I am Nirai Sathil, daughter of Hleryn Sathil. With whom do I make the acquaintance?”
“My name is Uriel Tripitus,” Attrebus lied, “and this is my companion Ozul.”
“Ozul,” she said. “From what house?”
“I belong to no house,” Sul told her.
“I understand you,” she said. “We have also foresworn allegiance to the houses. Please, follow me and be welcome in our home.”
She led them across a bare stone yard surrounded by what appeared to be barracks and into a central keep that rose quite high before sprouting six slender towers. The place was smaller than it looked from the shore, but still quite large-and to Attrebus’s eye, undermanned. He didn’t see nearly enough guards or servants.
They entered a large central hall with an enormous table. The walls were hung with the busts of animals- bears, wolves, wild bulls, lions-and also with various sorts of arms and armor, some of which seemed quite exotic.
“I must leave you here,” Nirai said, “but servants will attend you shortly. Only tell them your needs, and they will see to them.”
And with a whisking of robes, she was gone, and they were alone in the hall.
Attrebus paced, examining the swords, spears, maces, and falchions that adorned the walls.
“What does this ‘Umbra’ look like?” he asked.
“A black longsword with red runes on the blade,” Sul replied. “At least when it was seen last.”
“What do you mean?”
“Legend says it has worn other shapes-but it is always a bladed weapon.”
Attrebus started in a hurry, but as the minutes stretched to more than an hour, he had ample time to assure himself that no weapon approaching that description was to be found-not in the great room, anyway.
He was just starting to consider wandering through the rest of the castle when he heard a soft whisper, then a giggle.
He turned, and caught a flash of gray vanishing from the doorway. There was a sudden furious whispering he couldn’t make out, and then, after a moment, a rounded woman with fading red hair came in. She studied them for a moment, then gave a little curtsy.
“My apologies, sirs,” she said. “I hadn’t been informed of your presence. May I be of service?”
“I’m not sure,” Attrebus said. “The lady Nirai brought us here, and said we would be provided with rooms and so forth.”
“Nirai,” she sighed, then cocked an eyebrow. “And so forth?”
“Well, I’m here to do a bit of exploring,” he said, then rambled off his invented job description.
The woman looked a bit disapproving, but she nodded.
“I’ll get rooms ready for you. Meantime I’ll take you to the kitchen-I don’t know what Nirai is thinking, but there will be no meal in the hall tonight.”
“We were hoping to meet Lord Sathil,” Attrebus said.
“Were you?” she replied. “Well, perhaps you will.” She didn’t sound convinced.
She showed them to the kitchen, a smoky, low-ceilinged room with an enormous hearth and two massive oaken tables. To Attrebus’s vast surprise, about thirty people were seated there. None of them were elves; most seemed to be Nord, although there were two Khajiit. They were dressed in plain working clothes. All stood when they entered.
A gnarled old woman at the head of the table raised her head.
“Who is this, then, Yingfry?” she asked.
“Lords Uriel and Ozul,” their escort reported. “From the Empire. Nirai brought them up. They’re here to see the country.”
“Well,” the old woman said, “you gentlemen look hungry. Join us, won’t you?”
“We would be honored,” Attrebus said.
He heard a familiar giggle, and his attention was drawn to a honey-haired young woman with mischievous green eyes.
“Irinja!” the woman said sternly.
“I’m sorry, Eld Ma,” she said. “It’s just he speaks so fine, as if he’s in court.”
“All the more reason to mind your manners,” Eld Ma said. “Lords, please, sit.”
A couple of men made room on the bench, and Attrebus and Sul were soon seated in front of thick trenchers of black bread, boiled venison (or at least it tasted like venison) with wine and honey sauce, fish with butter and vinegar, and roast duck. Their hosts were silent as the two began eating.
“I hope it is to your liking,” Eld Ma said.
“It’s delicious,” Attrebus replied.
“Very good,” Sul added. “Different.”
Eld Ma leaned back. “We know the food of Morrowind, lord,” she said. “If I had known you were coming, we would have cooked in that manner.”
“You misunderstand me,” Sul replied. “I was paying a compliment. I don’t care to be reminded of Morrowind.”
“Ah,” a bald-headed fellow piped up. “Lord Sathil is the same; he prefers our cuisine, our ways. But the lady, she prefers the tastes of her people-especially hluurn, and other things made from Marshmerrow.”
“Val,” Eld Ma said, quietly, “didn’t the gentleman just say he didn’t like to be reminded?”
“Oh, right,” Val said. “Sorry.”
“No harm,” Attrebus cut in. “We’re just glad of the hospitality.” He lifted his mug of warm ale. “To each of you,” he said.
They all toasted, and when he didn’t continue, began talking among themselves, a low chatter rising-talk of tasks to be done that afternoon, complaints about the work of the morning, simple things, confirming his suspicion that these were castle servants, not masters. He ate and listened, hoping to hear something useful, but when the end of the meal came he didn’t know much more than when it began.
Yingfry took them up three flights of stairs to two adjacent rooms, both quite large, both with fireplaces already blazing. When she was gone, they met together in Attrebus’s room.
“What do you think is going on here?” Attrebus asked Sul.
The Dunmer scratched his chin. “I don’t know much about the Sathils, other than remembering the name.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that we haven’t met him yet? That we were left to eat with servants?”
“Not really,” Sul said. “I don’t know the man. Neither do you. Perhaps he is reclusive. Or very busy.”
