withdrew Coo from his battered haversack and opened the locket door.
At first there wasn’t anything, but then her face appeared. He felt a grin start on his face, but then saw hers wasn’t nearly as welcoming.
“What is it?” he asked. “Are you able to talk now?”
“I am,” she said. “I’m so happy I can accommodate you.”
“Something’s the matter,” he said. “What’s happened?”
She appeared to be in a bedchamber illuminated by several glowing orbs. There wasn’t anything furtive about the way she acted, not like usual. No, she actually seemed to be mad at him. As if she knew about Irinja, which hardly seemed possible…
But then he felt a guilty little burn in his belly-pit. He remembered taking Coo off the table that morning. Had the door been open? Had she seen…
“Look-” he began.
She waved him off. “You don’t owe me any explanations, Prince,” she said. “I’m not as foolish as you might think. It’s just that things here are very-complicated.”
“How so?”
“I’d rather not say right now,” she said. “I’m still working it out. I’ve a list of things you might like to know, however, if you have a moment.”
“A few,” he said, starting to feel a little angry himself. “Things are a little tough here, too, you know. Sul is hurt-he may be dying. I’ve just had to face down another Oblivion prince, and I’m trying to paddle across Lake Rumare, which on a pleasant day with a picnic basket might be nice but at the moment is rather a lot, considering. I’m sorry if your feelings were hurt somehow. I can only tell you that anything I did was to further our cause, not to-”
“For our cause?” she half shouted, her eyebrows lifting high. But then she closed her eyes, and her forehead smoothed until she just looked tired.
“What is our cause, Prince?” she asked softly, looking at him again. “I’m not sure what my cause is anymore.”
“Look-”
“No,” she said, cutting him off. “You don’t understand. And it’s my fault, because I don’t want to tell you. Not right now. I just don’t want to talk about it. You think it’s about that girl, but it’s not, you see? It’s about who I am. I’m not who I thought I was. The person I believed I was could never-” She stopped and passed her hands over her eyes.
“I can’t argue now,” she said. “I don’t have the strength for it. I’m going to try something in a few days. It might work and it might not. If it doesn’t, I want someone else to know what I’ve learned since we last spoke. That’s all I want of you, Attrebus. That’s all I need you for.”
“Listen,” he said. “I’m almost to the Imperial City, Annaig. You just have to hang on a little while longer. But I understand you. Tell me what you’ve learned, and know we’ll put it to good use.”
She nodded, and then spoke of strange trees and stranger births and poisons that might bring it all down-but nothing about herself.
“Have I ever told you how brave you are?” he asked. “How strong? Stronger than me. I know something about making unpleasant discoveries about yourself. But I know that whatever you may have done, you had to do it, and it was for the best.”
“How?” she murmured. “How can you?”
“Because I’ve listened to you,” he said. “I’ve heard you. And I believe in you.”
Something flickered a little in her eyes, and her mouth quirked to the side.
“Those are fine words,” she said. “I have to go now.”
“Wait,” he said. “May I contact you tomorrow?”
“If I’m still alive,” she replied. Then she closed her locket.
He sat there for a moment, watching Sul breathe, and then put his back into rowing.
When Secundus rose, he could see the waterfront not far ahead. It was on an island, separated from the city, with the harbor facing inward. The old stone buildings formed a semicircle enclosing the harbor, and he was coming up from behind. In the pale light he could see the hundreds of shacks, shanties, and lean-tos that crowded between the wall and the water, and in fact many were built raised up from the water. He smelled the stink of it already, the various stenches of human waste, rotting fish and offal, cheap beer. He thought about going around, but it was a long way and he was tired of rowing, so he passed as noiselessly as possible through the stilts and ladders of the outer houses.
He’d been to the shantytown before, when he was fifteen, curious to see the poorest and most dangerous part of the city and attracted by its reputed vices. He didn’t remember it being this silent-even at night there was usually drunken singing, screams, fighting. Now it was as still as the village he’d taken the boat from. Had the people here also fled Umbriel’s hosts?
He slowed his approach, squinting to make out if anyone was on the shore.
The boat rocked, gently, then more forcefully. He looked back to see what he’d bumped and saw a hand gripping the hull. For an instant he just stared at it, but then it was joined by another, and another, as decaying limbs rose from the water and gripped the gunnels. With a shout he drew his sword and began chopping at them. They came off easily, but he felt the boat rise and realized there were more of them-many more-beneath, lifting the vessel. He leaned over and tried to cut at them, but he couldn’t get a good angle, and the boat continued to ascend as its bearers took it ashore. Desperate, he tried to get Sul on his back, planning to fight through them. If he could get around to the harbor, it might still be manned by Imperial guards.
But then the boat tipped and dumped them both unceremoniously into the stinking, muddy shallows. He swatted blindly for a few seconds before they had him disarmed and held tight.
And as before, they didn’t kill him. Instead they dragged him farther inland, to one of the nicer cabins, and milled about it for a while. They didn’t appear to care if he called for help, so he did, with sinking hopes that it would do any good.
After a time, however, the door opened and he saw a lantern.
The face revealed in the light appeared human and alive. He was probably on the other side of forty, with a large bald spot in his reddish hair. He had a notch in his left ear.
“Well, now,” he said. “What’s this?”
“Came from the water,” one of the things gripping Attrebus rasped. “Can we have him?”
The fellow held the lamp closer to Attrebus, and his eyes widened. “I don’t think so, fellows,” he said, shaking his head. “Who would have thought it? Well, I guess he did, and by Malacath, it weren’t a waste of time at all.”
“I warn you,” Attrebus began, chilled by the man’s casual oath. “If you don’t release me-”
The man laughed. “That’s him all right. Don’t worry, prince-me-boy. I’ll not be keeping you. I’m sending you right along.”
“To where?”
“Someplace-nicer.” He looked over Attrebus’s shoulder.
“Umbriel?”
“Naw, not there. You’re going to the palace, boy-o.”
“Then tell these things to let me go. I can walk there.”
“I trust you could, but I’ve been told not to let you exert yourself.”
“By whom?”
“Patience, m’lad.”
“My friend is hurt-”
“Yes, well, that’s not up to me,” the man said. He went back into the cabin and came out followed by a sleepy-looking Khajiit and a Bosmer woman. One of them put a bag over his head. He tried to shout, but after a few breaths of something with a funny smell, his senses dimmed and were replaced by strange, vividly colored dreams.
He woke up to the smell of cinnamon tea and a face with eyebrows like fuzzy caterpillars perched over calm blue eyes. It was a very familiar face.
“Hierem!” he exclaimed. He looked around. They were in a sort of parlor, decorated in odd alchemical devices
