The True Barenziah, Part VIII                                   Anonymous                                                       naughty                                                                                            )	 $  T  6  ~	          N    !  %  )  y.      The True  Barenziah  Part VIII           Barenziah sat in the hall at dinner, pushing her food about on her plate, feeling bored and restless. Symmachus was away, having been summoned to Imperial City by Tiber Septim's great-great grandson, Uriel Septim. Or was it his great-great-great grandson? She'd lost count, she realized. Their faces seemed to blur into one another. Perhaps she should have gone with him, but there'd been the delegation from Tear on a tiresome matter that required delicate handling.   A bard was singing, but Barenziah hadn't been listening. Lately all the songs seemed the same to her, whether new or old. Now a turn of phrase caught her attention. He was singing of freedom, of adventure, of freeing Morrowind from its chains. How dare he! Barenziah sat up straight and turned to glare at him and worse, then realized that he was singing of some ancient war with Skyrim Nords, praising the heroism of King Moraelyn and his brave Companions. That tale was old enough, yet the song was new ... and the meaning...Barenziah wasn't sure. A bold fellow, but with a good voice and an ear for poetry and music. Rather handsome, too, in a raffish way. He didn't look exactly prosperous, nor was he all that young. Certainly he wasn't under a century of age. Why hadn't she heard him before, or at least heard of him?   "Who is he?" she whispered to her dinner companion, who shrugged and said, "Calls himself Nightingale. No one seems to know anything about him."   "Bid him speak with me when he has done."   Nighingale came to her, thanked her for the honor and the purse she handed him. His manner wasn't bold, rather quiet and unassuming. He was quick enough with gossip about others, but she learned nothing about him, for he turned all questions away with a joking answer or a wild tale, yet one given so charmingly that it was impossible to take offense. "My true name? Milady, I am no one. No, no, my parents named me Know Wan, or was it, No Buddy? What doth it matter? How can parents give name to that which they know not? Ah, I believe that was the name, No Not. I have been Nighingale for so long I do not quite remember, oh, since last month at the very least, or was it last week? All my memory goes into song and tales, you see. I've none left for myself. I'm really quite boring. Where was I born? Why, Knoweyr. I plan to settle in Dunroman when I get there, but I'm in no hurry."   "I see. And will you then marry Atleshur?"   "Very perceptive of you, milady. Perhaps, although I find Inaste quite charming, too, at whiles."   "Ah, you are fickle, then?"   "Like the wind, milady, I blow hither and yon and hot and cold."   "Stay with us awhile, then, if you will."   "As you wish, milady."   Barenziah found her interest in life rekindled. All that had seemed stale seemed fresh and new again. She greeted each day with zest, looking forward to conversation and song with Nightingale. Unlike other bards he never sang her praises, nor other women's but only of high adventure and bold deeds. When she asked him about this, he merely said, "What greater praise of thy charm couldst thou ask, than what thy own mirror gives thee? And if words thou wouldst have, thou hast those of the greatest bards of the land? How should I vie with them, I who was born but a week gone by?" For once they spoke privately, for Barenziah, unable to sleep, had bidden him come to her chamber that his music might soothe her.   "Thou art lazy and a coward, else I hold no charm for thee."   "Milady, to praise thee I must know thee and thy spirit is wrapped in clouds of enchantment."   "Not so, 'tis thy words that weave enchantment, and thy eyes. Know me if thou wilt, and if thou dare'st." He came to her; they lay close, kissed and embraced. "Not even Barenziah truly knows herself," he whispered softly. "How can I? Barenziah, thou seekest and know it not, nor yet for what. What would you have, that you have not?"   "Passion," she whispered, "passion. And children born of it."   "And for thy children, what? What birthright will you give them?"   "Freedom," she whispered, "freedom to be what they are. Where can I find these things?"   "They lie beside you and beneath you if you dare stretch out your hand to take them."   "But Symmachus..."   "I tell you, in me lies the answer to part of your quest and below us in these very mines, lies that which will grant us the power to fulfill achieve it. That which Moraelyn and Edward between them used to free High Rock from Nord domination of their spirit. Properly used, none can stand against it, not e'en that power which the Emperor controls. Freedom, Barenziah, freedom from the chains that bind you. Think on it, Barenziah." He kissed her again, softly, and withdrew.   "You're not going?" she cried out, for her body yearned for him.   "For now," he said. "Pleasures of the flesh are nothing beside what we might have together. I would have you think on it."   "I don't need to think. What must we do? What preparation must we make?"   "Why, none. You can enter the mines freely. Once below I can guide you to where this thing lies and lift it from its resting place."   "The Horn of Summoning," she whispered. "Is it true? How do you know? 'Tis said it's buried 'neath Daggerfall itself."   "Nay, long have I studied this matter. Ere his death King Edward gave the horn for safekeeping into the hand of his old friend King Moraelyn, who secreted it here in Mournhold, under the guardianship of the god Ephen, whose birthplace this is. Now thou know'st what it hath cost me many long years and weary miles to learn."   "But the god?"   "Trust me, dear heart. All will be well." Laughing, he blew her a last kiss and was gone.   On the morrow they passed the guards at the great doors that led below. Barenziah made her usual tour of inspection but instead of leaving afterwards, she and Nightingale entered a long-sealed door that led to an ancient part of the workings, long abandoned. The going was treacherous, for some of the old passages had collapsed and they had to clear a passage or find a way around. Vicious rats and huge spiders scurried here and there and sometimes attacked them.   "We've been gone too long," Barenziah said. "They'll be looking for us. What will I tell them?"   "Whate'er you please," Nightingale laughed. "You are the queen, aren't you?"   "Symmachus--"   "That peasant obeys whoever holds power. Always has, always will. We shall hold the power, love." His lips were the sweetest wine, every touch of fire and lightning.    "Now," she said, "take me now. I'm ready." Her body seemed to hum, every nerve and muscle taut.   "Not yet. Not here, not like this." He waved around at the ancient dusty rubble and grim rock walls. "Just a little longer."   "Here," he said at last, pausing before a blank wall. "Here it lies." His hands wove a spell and the wall dissolved to reveal the entrance to an ancient shrine. In the midst stood a statue of the god, hammer in hand, poised above an adamantium anvil.   "By my blood, Ephen, I bid you wake! Moraelyn's heir of Ebonheart am I, last of the royal kin, sharer of thy blood. At Morrowind's last need, with all elvendom in peril of their souls, release to me that which thou guardst! Now do I bid thee strike!"   At his words the statue stirred and quickened, and the blank stone eyes glowed red. The massive head nodded, and the hammer smote the anvil, which split asunder with a thunderous crash, and the stone god himself crumbled. Barenziah clapped her hands over her ears and crouched down, crying aloud. Nightingale strode boldly forward and clasped what lay among the ruins with a cry of ecstasy, lifting it high.   "Someone's coming!" Barenziah cried. "Wait, that's not the Horn, it -- it's a staff!"   "Indeed, my dear, you see truly, at last!" Nightingale laughed aloud, then -- "I'm sorry, my darling, that I must leave you now. Perhaps we'll meet again one day. Until then -- ah, until then, Symmachus," he said to the mail clad figure who'd appeared behind them, "she's yours."   "No!" Barenziah sprang up and ran toward him, but he was gone -- winked out of existence -- just as Symmachus, sword drawn, reached him. His blade cleaved a single stroke through empty air, then he stood as still as if he'd taken the stone god's place. Barenziah said nothing, nothing, nothing...   Symmachus told the half dozen elves who had accompanied him to say only that Nightingale and the queen had lost their way, and had been set upon by spiders. Nightingale had fallen into a deep crevice that closed upon him. His body could not be recovered. The queen had been badly shaken by the encounter and deeply mourned the loss of the friend, who had fallen in her defense. Such was his power of command that the slack-jawed soldiers, none of whom had caught more than a glimpse of the event, were half-convinced that it was true.   Barenziah was escorted above and taken to her chamber where she dismissed her servants and sat stunned, too shaken even to weep. Symmachus stood watching her.   "Do you have any idea what you have done?" he said finally.   "You should have told me," Barenziah whispered, "The Staff of Unity and Chaos! I never dreamed it lay here. He said--" A mewling moan escaped her lips and she doubled over in agony. "What have I done? What now? What's to become of me?"   "You loved him?"   "Yes, yes, yes. Oh, may the gods have mercy on me, I did love him."   Symmachus hard-lined face softened slightly and his eyes glittered with a new light, and he sighed softly. "Ahhh, that's something then. You will become a mother if it's within my power. As for the rest, my dear, I expect you have loosed a storm upon the land. It'll be awhile yet in the brewing. When it comes we'll weather it together." He stripped her clothing from her and carried her to the bed. Out of grief and longing, her body responded to his as never before, pouring forth all that Nightingale had woken in her. She was emptied, and then filled, for a child was planted and grew within her. As the babe grew in her womb, so did her feeling for patient faithful Symmachus, rooted in long friendship and affection, now at last ripen into the fullness of true love. Eight years later their love was blessed again with a little daughter.   Directly after Nighingale's theft of the staff Symmachus had sent secret messages to Uriel Septim of the matter, but had not gone himself, choosing rather to stay with Barenziah during her fertile period and father the child upon her. For this, and for the theft, he suffered Uriel Septim's disfavor and suspicion. Spies were sent in search of the thief but Nighingale seemed to have vanished whence he'd come, wherever that was.   "Dark elf, in part, perhaps," said Barenziah, "but part human, too, I think, in disguise, else would I not have come so quickly to fertility."   "Part dark elf, for sure, of ancient R'Aathim lineage, else he could not have freed the staff," Symmachus reasoned, "and I think he would have lain with thee. As elf he did not dare, for then he would not have been able to part with thee. He knew the Staff lay there, not the Horn, and that he must teleport to safety, for the Staff is not a weapon that would have seen him clear, unlike the horn. Praise the gods he hath not that! It seems all was as he expected, yet how did he know? I placed it there myself, with the aid of the rag-tail end of the R'Aathim clan who now sits king in Ebonheart as a reward. Tiber Septim claimed the Horn, but left the Staff for safe-keeping. Nightingale can use the Staff to sow seeds of strife and dissension, if he wishes, yet that alone will not gain him power. That lies with the Horn and the ability to use it."   "I'm not so sure it's power that Nighingale seeks," Barenziah said.   "All seek power," Symmachus retorted, "each in our own way."   "I have found what I sought," Barenziah said. 