Sloan's Story part 47 - Return to the Embassy
Entry posted by jfraser in Sloan's story
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Sloan sighed as the carriage climbed the hills out of Solitude toward the Thalmor Embassy, then glanced at her traveling companion on the padded bench across from her and laughed. “I’m getting spoiled. It makes me feel slightly queasy, but I miss Aithne’s teleportation. I was beginning to forget just how far away things are from each other.”
Merks shook his head. “She acts like it is a simple spell but the only other one I know who can do that from so far away is Professor Marence, and she can only do it once every few days because it drains so much of her mana. Not even Professor Awtesse or even Archmage Aren can teleport farther than the town. That I know of. And she acts like wards don’t even exist.”
“Truly? I believe she said it’s the one of the first spells she learned. How curious.” Sloan leaned forward and straightened the ruffled ascot that was sticking out from under Merks’ jacket. “I always hated this style. Fortunately, it will be out of fashion in only a couple years. You look good in that outfit, though. You should wear something other than college robes more often.”
Merks flushed. “I don’t usually have a reason to wear anything else.”
“Why would you need a reason? Do those robes augment your abilities in some way?”
“I…no, they’re just robes.”
“Then you don’t usually have a reason to wear them, either. Wear what you like.” She laughed. “Of course, if you prefer the robes, that’s a different matter.”
“I don’t know if I prefer them or not. I’ve…never really thought about it.”
“No? Just got to the college and they handed you robes and you never looked back?”
“Well, yes. In a way. I got to the college much earlier than most – I was five when my parents…left me there.” He shrugged. “All they had for me to wear was robes, so that is what I wore.”
“Ah.” Sloan leaned back on her seat. “We have something in common, then. Be glad you were left at the college and not at an orphanage. Or, at least, not the one in Riften.” She could not repress a shudder at memories she had tried her best to stamp out.
“Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful. I realize how lucky I was to be left there, not least because I started learning magic years before others of my age. It’s just…”
Sloan gave him a small smile as a pang went through her. “Who are you parents and why did they abandon you?” At his stricken look, she shrugged. “As I said, we have much in common.”
“I…” Merks paused, then cleared his throat as he dabbed at a teary eye with a finger. “This road is so dusty. So what is our plan when we get there?”
Sloan held back her laugh at his clumsy segue and answered in a more businesslike tone. “We have our invitations, thanks to Ser Gray-Mane, so it will be easy enough to get in the door. Once there, I’ll need you to cause a distraction while I slip away.”
Merks shifted on his seat while his face contorted in a clear attempt not to show his fear. “Um…how do I do that?”
“If you were just a normal man, it would likely be impossible, and I would not have brought you along. However, you are not normal and this should be very easy for you.”
“Really? I can’t imagine how.”
“No? Can you juggle?”
“Juggle? No.”
“Not even fire?”
“Fi…ohhhhh.” Merks’ expression cleared as her meaning got through. “Yes, that I can certainly do.”
“What else can you do?”
“A lot. Fire is my specialty. Although I could do some ice magic as well, I suppose.”
“Perfect. You don’t need to keep your performance going for long – just enough to get their eyes on you.” Sloan winked. “If you do well enough, you might get invitations to become a court wizard for someone.”
“I’m only in year fourteen! I don’t think I’m ready for that!”
“I have met most of the court wizards around Skyrim. Believe me, you could do it. Whether you would be keen to is another question - their most essential skill is boot-licking.”
Merks burst out laughing. “I don’t think I’m ready for that, either!”
“Then prepare some polite declinations – you will likely need them soon.” Sloan glanced out the window of the carriage as it eased to a stop. “Looks like we’re here. Ugh, that snow. At least this time I won’t have to wade through it. Are you ready?”
Merks took a deep breath and nodded as the door opened and an elven courtier lowered the folding steps. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
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This is just a divider, there is more below
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Sloan began disassembling her dressy outfit the moment she slipped out of the banquet hall into one of the servants’ passageways, thankful that it was still where she remembered it. The nice thing about nobles was, they wanted their servants to be discretely available, so the entryways to the servants’ wings were hidden between or behind opulent décor, making it absurdly easy to leave unnoticed.
She left her gown tucked into a tight roll on a shelf behind a row of think folded towels; put her jewelry, aside from a large diamond ring, inside one of her gloves, wrapped that glove in the other, and crammed both into a shadowed space between a storage trunk and the wall; pulled off the flouncy underskirt and hid it in the back of a mop closet.
She kept the heeled shoes because they were a necessary part of the tight black leather outfit she had been wearing underneath, and which was now her only clothing as she entered the kitchen.
It took only a brief glance around before Sloan found the first person she had wanted to see, and she made her way across the kitchen, ignoring the stares from those around her.
Francine looked exactly she way she had when Sloan had seen her before, although her skin was flushed from heat instead of cold this time. She was talking, of course, and seemed to be the only one in the kitchen not to notice as Sloan sidled up to her.
“…and make sure you don’t over-flour it this time. Last time it had so much flour, it could have help up a mammoth. Now next we’ll add…what are you looking at?”
Francine turned her head and jumped.
“Oh! I didn’t expect…”
“I’m not her,” Sloan said, and Francine faltered as she blinked.
“I…no, I guess you wouldn’t be, you…”
“She says thank you.” Sloan took Francine’s hand and pressed the ring into it, then wrapped the woman’s fingers around it. “Good luck with your new shop. I’ll try to visit some day.” Then she turned and left through the door to the back of the house while Francine, for the first time in the short time Sloan had known her, stood silent.
She had hoped there would be few enough elves in the areas away from the party that she could slip to the offices and get what she came for, but that slim hope died almost immediately.
“You, there! What are you doing here?”
Sloan sighed, then plastered on her work smile and turned. She had hoped for one of the bureaucrats – Gilna had called them the “buzzing bees” – who were always scurrying about the place with their slightly-panicked expressions and armfuls of important-looking papers, but, alas, it was a guard. An irritable one, at that. Although that described the lot of them.
“Oh good, perhaps you can help me. I am looking for Third Emissary Rulindil.”
The guard scowled. “What business would someone like you have with the Third Emissary?”
“It is very simple – I am a gift for him.”
“Do you? Perhaps if you give it to me, I’ll forgot I saw you here.”
“I didn’t say I have a gift for him. I said I am a gift for him.”
The guard paused. “What do you mean? Who sent you?”
Sloan sidled forward and lowered her voice to a purr. “Oh, now, you know I cannot tell you that. These things must remain discrete.”
“I…” The guard looked around as if hoping for reinforcements. “I’ll escort you back to…”
“That wouldn’t do. The Third Emissary is expecting his gift. Do you want to be the one responsible for its failure to appear?”
The guard blanched. “No! I…I’ll bring you to him! Right this way.”
He gestured and Sloan took his arm in both of hers and smiled up at him and batted her eyelids.
“That’s a good boy. Perhaps the Third Emissary will be willing to share. I would enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”
The guard gulped and looked straight ahead as he started to walk.
“The thought of two of you at the same time fills me with…” Sloan shuddered and moaned.
“Ah! Yes. Um…through here.”
They stepped through the back door to the courtyard beyond, then wended their way along a path shoveled clear of snow to the administration building that sat at the back of the property. The place which Sloan and Mallin had used to hide from the dragons.
She wondered if they were there, yet. There wouldn’t be as many, of course. Had they migrated there one at a time? Was that cliff face some ancient dragon weyr to which they instinctively returned? So many questions still unanswered!
They entered the foyer of the building but, instead of heading upward, as Sloan had expected, the guard led her to a door along the back hall, then stopped and cleared his throat.
“He is…in one of his sessions. So we were told not to disturb him. But if he’s expecting you…”
“Of course, honey. Thank you!” Sloan detached herself from his arm, then lifted one hand and trailed it along his angular cheek. “I hope to see you again soon!”
“Ah! Um…yes! Yes, I…would like that too.”
Sloan gave him a tinkling laugh as she opened the door and stepped through, then paused a moment as it clicked behind her to take a deep breath. She had gambled a lot on Third Emissary Rulindil being the same in this world as the last. Now it was time to see if that gamble had paid off.
The door had led to a small landing with stairs heading downward, so she followed them to another door, then stood and listened.
At first, there was nothing. Then she heard a muffled voice, then the sharp crack of a whip and a loud cry and Sloan nodded to herself and muttered, “Good to know some things haven’t changed.” Then she took another deep breath, turned the handle, and stepped through the door.
Edited by jfraser
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