Thoroughly shaken, I slowly crept out of the courtyard, keeping my eyes on the street and the shadows. Nothing moved outside of what would be expected for a city towards the late afternoon. Across the road something rustled in a nearby garden. Alarmed, I readied my new spell. With a stretch, an ordinary house cat padded over to the lamppost where it scratched at the wood.
"Are you all right?" asked a familiar voice. Magicka welled into my palm as I jumped backwards under the arch, but when I began to relax my will and release the spell, I recognized who it was.
Valindor smiled apprehensively, noticing the magicka swirling in my palm. Annoyed at being caught off-guard once again, I huffed a sigh and relaxed against the stone wall behind me. "Yes, I'm fine," I lied.
"I agree," he smirked. "But you do look unsteady. Did something just happen? I thought I heard you shout something a while ago, so I came to have a look." I willed myself to look into his grey eyes. They glinted benignly back at me, but somehow I sensed an undercurrent of something else. Some kind of deception. Deception? He's a lying little skeever! I know he's the one who told that... An image of glowing, hungry, dead eyes. ...that I was some ambassador! Don't trust him, Henny. I generally trusted Derkeethus' opinion, but on this matter I suddenly had my doubts.
Regardless, here was a willing and able mer who had thus far not made any move to assault me in any way. I decided to seize the opportunity to find some kind of safety until I retrieved my weapons. "Someone's been following me," I whispered, pulling him close enough to put my lips to his ear. Valindor glanced about, suspiciously eyeing a guard, who was, in turn, regarding us suspiciously. With a nod, he offered his arm.
"My dear, I would love to give you a tour of our most prestigious college!" I placed my arm in his, and he led me away. The guard grunted and continued on, ignoring our passage.
With a sigh of relief, I strolled up the road, observing the houses and wondering when Derkeethus would be released from the grip of the bureaucracy. Focused as I was, I was startled when Valindor whispered musically, "So, where is your...friend?" In his voice lay a splinter of spite mixed with deep amusement.
"I think you know exactly where he is," I replied a little archly. The Bosmer gave me a winning, coy grin in reply. "That wasn't fair, you know. He didn't do anything to deserve that sentence." My reprimand cracked his expression momentarily, and without a word he led me up a short set of stairs into a plaza seated before a chapel-like building.
"Here we are. The Bard's College," he said, cheer resurfacing once more. I craned my head to look up at the edifice dotted with chips of blue glass. I couldn't help but wonder why a school for bards would look so imposing. Then again, everything built by Nords tended to look large and imposing. Warm fingers closed over mine as he tugged on my hand, guiding me towards the entry way. "Just wait until you see our library," he exclaimed, excitement dancing behind his eyes. I found myself smiling at his enthusiasm and attempting to push Derkeethus' dismayed thoughts away from me.
I'm just going inside to see the college. Nothing else. I reassured us, but a part of me didn't believe it. There was still that niggling suspicion that Valindor was hiding something. What it was, I didn't know, and I was almost sure it was harmless.
Up the steps we went, at the top of which the Bosmer opened a door and motioned me inside. Just to be sure, I held my hand at the ready should I need the aid of the sabre cat once more. If I could manage to call it again.
Once inside, we entered a lofty foyer decorated with various oddments of aesthetic value. A cabinet held a few blue ceramic plates, goblets, bottles of wine. Several books were strewn about on a low table surrounded by soft Imperial banners. Light from the stained glass filtered down onto the floor, speckling the tiles in prismatic shapes. Near at hand stood an Altmer and a Breton dressed in the clothing of nobility, though there was a suggestion of general dishevelment about them.
"Gwaihen, I'd like you to meet my mentor Viarmo and the Dean of History, Giraud," Valindor said softly, gesturing to the Altmer and Breton respectively. Giraud grinned lopsidedly while Viarmo bowed theatrically.
"Ah, so this is the little lass you've been pining about," Giraud laughed. I cast a questioning glance at Valindor, who had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
"Giraud, I believe you owe me quite a few septims for this," Viarmo said, glancing at the Dean. He turned to me and smiled apologetically, "We were beginning to wonder if this female Valindor spoke of was merely imagined. It's not something we haven't seen before." Giraud excused himself and left the College, crowing about deadlines to meet and people to greet.
"So, you're a bard now?" I asked, looking at Valindor in surprise.
"Well, as I said, I'm only an apprentice."
"Ah, but he has shown more promise than any I have taught in an age. He's been instrumental in aiding me restore the Burning of King Olaf, though his lute skills need tremendous work. Why don't you sing her something?" Viarmo suggested with a sharp glint in his eye.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly. I'm-- Listen, why don't we go take a look at the rest of the College?" the Bosmer said hurriedly, a trace of anxiety etching his features.
"Why not? I'm sure you have a pleasant voice," I protested, curious now as to why he was avoiding something so innocuous. Is this what he's hiding?
Taking my arm, he led me through a short hallway into a wide room whose walls were covered in books. Tables scattered about the room were also piled in various tomes, while other bards and apprentices milled about, discussing the merits of various songs and epics. There was little I understood about the discussions, which were steeped in the land's ancient history. Nevertheless, I perused the shelves for a while at Valindor's consent.
Most of the books were historical in context if they weren't plays or odes to various subjects. Behind me, I could feel the Bosmer watching me as I reached for one particular book that, for some reason or another, felt familiar. The cover bore no name and was an old, battered leather bearing a seal I only distantly recognized.
The pages were half-rotted from water damage and they crackled delicately under my fingertips. Within was a song written in an old dialect of Bosmeri, the one from my region. One my mother taught me and her mother taught her, stretching all the way back to the first Bosmer of my clan. There wasn't much I remembered about the song itself, as I had lost contact with my region's dialect long ago. I knew it was about something great. The secret the Bosmer learned at the beginning of our people. What was this song doing in a book of all things? To record such a sacred and lost song in mere words was disconcerting, for the song's meaning became twisted as the ink met the paper. This was the song, and yet it was not the song.
"Oh, I see you've found The Song of the Alchemists, what do you think of it? Is it a jest or something more serious?" a Redguard asked, peering over my shoulder at the tome. Confused, I looked back at the book, which was indeed the book titled The Song of the Alchemists. The title was on the cover and the seal was gone.
"I-- Um-- " I sputtered, surfacing from my thoughts.
"She's a little shy, Ataf. Let her be," Valindor said, coming to my rescue. He took the book from me and set it back on the shelf. Something in his expression was knowing. What just happened?
Valindor led me throughout the rest of the college, showing me the classrooms and various corridors. I was taken downstairs and shown the kitchens. The smirk on his face when we reached this broiling room was enough for Derkeethus' will to bleed over and a look of fury cross my face. The Bosmer either didn't notice or didn't care, or he only smiled and led me down a small dark hallway.
"These are our quarters--the apprentices'," he said, showing me a low, dimly lit room broken up by shabby partitions. Hay beds accompanied by old end tables and the occasional chair filled each cubicle.
"I see you're living in the lap of luxury," I remarked dryly.
"It's not so bad. The kitchens keep it warm down here at least." I sat down on the bed and looked about the tiny room. On a stool lay a book partially open. It was written in a fine scrawl, and I recognized the language as that of Valenwood. My name was written in a couple of places. Curious, I picked it up.
"What's this?" I said, flipping through a few pages.
"That's nothing!" he said, snatching it from my hands. I reached after it roguishly, but he held it just out of my reach. "No, no, no. This is private. If you read it, your eyes will begin to bleed!" In spite of his playful response, I could tell he was serious and I relented. Valindor sat down on the bed next to me. The air between us suddenly changed and he leaned close, as if to whisper something or perhaps to kiss me, and I found I would have rejected neither. However, just as I, too, was responding to this inertia, the Bosmer's hooded eyes opened wide and his grey eyes burned a greenish yellow, like the color of light between leaves.
I looked into them, and found I could not turn away. They drew me in, and even as I sensed the Argonian's distant thoughts of warning and alarm, the connection was sent away to some far off distance. This should have disturbed me, but it didn't. Then I found was falling forward into those eyes, which changed and shifted as a breeze through the trees changes the shadows on the ground. Falling downward, forward, away... Until the world about me disappeared and I was surrounded by fractured images resolving into fractals that curled away into infinity. I felt lost in this labyrinth of imagery and light.
Suddenly, I stood upon the precipice of an abyss where wild, fell cries rose in a song not unlike the one I only just remembered moments ago. A form arose from the darkness, a wild reptilian monstrosity bearing an uncountable number of heads, all of which possessed wicked teeth and cruel mouths. Each head turned to look at me, and I beheld my face reflected back at me in a fractured reflection of rage and hate. I screamed, shielding my eyes with my arm from this nightmarish vision as the song rose in pitch to an haunting wail, a voice so familiar like something heard on the edge of a dream. The heads converged and the world fell about me and I was screaming in terror--
Then there were lips pressed to mine and my hands were in the Bosmer's hair, pulling. Grabbing. Lost in the moment as a low, keening sound rose in my throat. The thought of my demise mingled with a greed for more. But I shoved him away, terrified as reality crashed back into my head, sloshing like water in a flood. Afterimages of such strange images floated before my eyes, and I stared at the young mer in unseeing confusion, fear, and lust suddenly unsure of what was real and what was imagined. Scrambling to my feet, I backed away, and Valindor's eyes shifted to grey and his face was one of confusion and dismay.
"Wait! What's wrong?" he cried, his expression one of distant concern. His voice was the musical song I heard in the vision, which only spurred me on faster as I ran, dancing up the steps and careening for the door. Derkeethus' voice clamored in my mind for attention, similar questions ricocheting off the inside of my skull, but I paid them no heed as I scrambled to lift the latch and get outside.
"I'm sorry?" was the faint apology offered as I disappeared into the evening.
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