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Chapter 2

Eldrin was too excited to think about the fact that Zulkan had practically shoved him out the door after a very brief visit. He lugged the basket back with him, thinking once or twice of stopping in front of someone's house and dumping the contents into one of the tall ceramic urns used for refuse. But there were too many people outside enjoying the weather, and all of the neighbors knew Eldrin's name. He didn't fancy giving people a reason to talk.

Eldrin came quietly into the foyer. The steps to the lower level were directly in front of him, a door to the dining room and the kitchen beyond to his right, the master bedroom to the left. He set the basket gingerly down by the door and moved toward the dining room. He saw Tsamabi, a mouse gray little Khajiit with a lighter undercoat, cleaning dishes through the open door to the kitchen. Her ears flicked back and she glanced up before returning her eyes to her work when she heard him approach.

"Tsamabi. Is my father here?" he asked. The slave jolted upright, ears turning forward. She moved her gaze on the floor.

"No, Muthsera, he went out just a few minutes ago."

Eldrin grunted and turned. He picked up the basket on his way back and ran downstairs to his room, no longer making an effort to walk quietly. He shut the door behind himself and nearly threw the basket down by the door, grinning hugely in anticipation. He held out his splayed palm in front of himself, staring at the ring, watching the color shift as he tilted his hand just slightly.

"I call Valka!"

---

It was the first time Valka had seen Cylarne. The ruin was vast, sprawling across acres of terrain atop a broad hill. Trees grew high within and without the walls, some red and shedding leaves, some green and putting forth new shoots beneath the seasonless pale sky. The construction of the remaining stonework was square, hard-angled, the walls decorated with a plain border that had once been geometric squares, now worn mostly to ovals.

It was quiet now. There were periods of greater offensives, of clashing armies charging head-on. Of late the army of the Mazken had been trying other tactics. Valka crept from shadow to shadow with daggers in hand, aware of the other Mazken around him only as other creeping shadows in the peripheries of his vision. The wind blew gently through the leaves, ruffling the skirt of his armor. To be sent here to fight the Aureal in this eternal battle was a great privilege. He was not sure if he had a patron, or if he had simply been selected as the ranking male guard with the fewest recent deaths. No one who was not an officer was allowed to remain here for long at one time. Nobody he had dared ask knew why.

There was a scuff from up ahead of him, a boot in the dry leaves behind an archway. A tree with orange and yellow leaves had half-topped the top of the structure, casting heavy shadows with its spreading branches.

Aureal were impatient creatures. It was well known. Valka breathed very slowly as he stepped forward, every contact of his boots with the ground slow and measured.

Another scuff from off to the right. They thought they were waiting in ambush. He circled the tree so, so slowly, every step seconds long, and was eventually rewarded with a sigh and another scuff. He leaned gradually to one side, one eye past the trunk.

An Aureal in their traditional armor stood leaning on her spear, facing across the gate opening. There was another golden warrior across the gateway on the other side. Their armor covered more than a Mazken's armor, but it was also heavier, making them slower.

Well, if they were going to make it easy...

Valka opened his left hand toward the one across the way, releasing his second spell. Magicka oscillated under his skin and coalesced to become a burst of purple magicka hurled at the Aureal. He did not wait to watch the result as he took a swift, silent step forward and seized the helmet of the one in front of him. He tipped it forward just enough to drive the dagger into the soft place at the base of her skull, in and out in an instant. She died with almost no sound, a soft rattle in her throat. Before the body had fallen he was halfway to the other one. She struggled to raise her spear, suddenly dragged down by the intolerable weight of his spell of burden. She was still grimacing in his face as he cut her throat.

He collected both their spears before the bodies had time to dissolve into nothing, wiping his daggers on the padding of their cuirasses. Then he squatted by the doorway and leaned back the way he had come to whistle two notes. He heard running feet as other Mazken came forward to claim the objective. A kiskengo - tiny markings on her pauldron indicated her rank - grinned at him briefly as she spotted the two spears in his hand. She clapped a hand to his shoulder.

"Well, look at you. Go on back and get those recorded, Kiskella. Let the women have a turn." She winked at him. Not for one moment did it occur to him that he technically outranked her, or that what she said was intensely patronizing . That wasn't how it worked.

"Yes, Ma'am." He bowed deeply and made his way back toward the outpost where their mages and the ranking grakella of his unit waited. It was a fine day, cool breeze blowing through the leaves. Two confirmed Aureal dead was not a bad way to start -

He dropped the spears as a familiar and horrible sensation gripped him. The world was dissolving around him.No! I was free!

His feet struck something harder than the leafy ground as the world coalesced around him.Dimmer, bluer light. Carpet underfoot, circle of cushions around a glass device of strange purpose,furnishings for holding clothing, and the greatest concession to mortal weakness, the bed. Scattered pillows and blankets, sybaritic in their riotous colors.

Blue-skinned slender creature in front of him: Dunmer.

Valka snapped his heels together and his hands behind his back as he surveyed the holder of the ring. He strove against the enchantment silently and in vain, muscles quivering with effort inside the limited protection of his armor. He was noticeably taller than the mer in front of him, six feet two inches tall and about two hundred pounds of sculpted muscle. There was no expression on his face.

Eldrin's trembling fingers dropped to the hilt of his weapon, heart jumping in his chest. He stared with wide-eyed fascination, and some fear, at the creature that appeared before him. He was momentarily confused, trying to place the species.

"A male seducer?" he said stupidly.

Valka could_feel_the mortal will on the other side of the ring's power. It would have been so easy to escape, nothing to the mind that had trapped him for so long! He could have slaughtered the useless gaping thing in seconds if the enchantment had not bound him fast. The very air of this place assaulted his nostrils with a bizarre cocktail of odors, only some of them originating from the bottles and jars over by the mirror. He knew about the mortal fixation with mirrors. They were for wasting time confirming what you already knew, or trying to convince yourself of something that was not true.

He was not constrained to answer until verbally ordered to do so, but instant and overt disobedience was not the Mazken way. He forced himself to relax slightly, shifting one foot a little to one side to widen his stance. His voice when he spoke was a pleasant middle-range tenor, euphonious and full of good-humored politeness.

"I am of the Mazken race, yes. How will I serve you?"

Eldrin laughed. He suddenly felt very jittery, crossing his arms over his chest and moving to circle around the daedra. He felt light and springy on his toes.

"I haven't decided yet! B'vek, that armor doesn't cover very much of you, does it?"

"It does not," Valka said affably.

"I guess injuries mean nothing to your kind. Do you even feel pain? How long does this summons last?" He stopped in front of the daedra again, hands dropping to clasp behind his back. His eyes moved over Valka appraisingly. It was a little eerie how person-like the thing was. The eyes were especially unnerving, too vibrant a shade of green against black sclera.

Those eyes moved to follow him as he walked, though Valka did not turn as the mortal circled him. He was obviously being looked over in much the same way an officer would do, and turning would be uncooperative. He was cautiously optimistic that the appraisal was not sexual. Mortal touch was generally repellant to him. He remembered the old mage's hands as very cold even when they weren't holding a knife. The madmen of New Sheoth were grubby, sweaty, clammy, very rarely clean and warm.

"I am able to feel pain. If you do not choose to dismiss me, either by name or by uttering the word 'Dismissed,' the summons will not expire." He was able to lie until ordered otherwise, but lying about that would probably just provoke the mer to test it by torturing him physically, and he didn't want that capacity to become obvious yet.

Eldrin couldn't believe his ears. How much must this ring be worth? Fifty thousand gold? A hundred thousand? Whatever it might be, the value of a Mazken servant who could never truly die was greater.

"You don't need to eat or sleep, do you," Eldrin said, mostly to himself.

"I do not," Valka agreed patiently.

"Really, you're the perfect body guard, aren't you? Ever vigilant, never tiring. Is that what your previous master used you for?"

"Kerghed Hazzfanal sometimes did have me accompany him as a bodyguard. I also assisted him with his research. He didn't like to use mortal assistants." Mortal death was so bizarrely singular and permanent. It was difficult to understand why the daedra princes coveted the worship of these creatures so desperately when their only advantage over daedra seemed to be the ability to carnally reproduce themselves.

"Hmm," was all Eldrin said, staring intently at the tapestry hanging on the other side of the room without seeing it, a bound Saint Roris enduring the stabbing pikes of a crowd of Argonians. The Mazken was certainly polite, even helpful in his answers. Eldrin had the pleasure of having met Anhaedra, the Dremora at the Mar Gan temple. It was very clear that if that daedra could manage to escape his metaphysical bonds for even a moment, anyone unfortunate enough to be within arms reach of him would be dead. Was this creature the same, waiting for his chance, for some loophole that would allow him to interpret his orders in an advantageous way?

"I dismiss you, Valka," Eldrin said, needlessly waving his hand at the Mazken. The daedra evaporated soundlessly into sparks. Then he turned to go out. He did not think his father had any books on the topic of daedra, but a Temple priest would surely be able to answer his questions.

---

From Valka's perspective the world dissolved again, and he was back in the stony shadows of Cylarne, two spears at his feet as the breeze caressed his face. As usual, no time seemed to have elapsed in the Isles while he was summoned. He gathered up his trophies and took them to be recorded, sullenly aware that his time was no longer his own. And now he was possessed by... What? Who? No wizard, that much was obvious. The creature's garb had been richer, more luxurious, the surroundings had been a bedchamber and not a tower or ruin.

He might as well make the best use of his time while he could. He accepted the officer's curt commendation and in turn accepted the order to return to the battlefield. He would hunt Aureals through the shade for a while longer yet, he hoped. There was always the chance his mortal master would die or the ring would be lost or stolen.

---

The priestess Eldrin spoke to at the Temple was deeply troubled that a boy his age had summoned a Mazken, one of the more powerful daedra and one associated with the House of Troubles to boot. She tried to convince him to donate the ring to the Temple, which was very irritating. But she did answer his questions - as he suspected, the creature was capable of lying. All daedra hated mortals regardless of how they might act, and Eldrin ought to be wary, the priestess warned. Then she loaned him a book about conjured creatures and Eldrin looked it over while getting lunch at a tavern - anything to delay meeting his father, who was probably home by now - but the book didn't really say anything the priestess hadn't.

He trudged back with the book under his arm, organizing his thoughts. He'd been acting too much like an excited little boy opening a present the first time he met Valka. The Mazken had to respect him.

Tsamabi was out at the side of the house beating a carpet. She looked up meekly when she saw the mer coming.

"Master Eldrin, his father wishes-"

"Yes, I know," Eldrin growled at her without stopping. Inside, he went below to his room. The bed had been made, the laundry taken out, and the basket holding the brick had been placed on the bottom of the shelf by the breakfast table. He flopped the book down on the table and stood in the center of the room again.

"I call Valka," Eldrin said, standing up tall with his hands clasped behind his back, face perfectly neutral. He waited until the dark shape of the Mazken had fully coalesced before him, and looked directly into those vibrant eyes.

"I didn't introduce myself before," Eldrin said. "I am Redoran Eldrin Llethri, your new master. You will answer only to me, and you will never harm me nor any other person unless I expressly give permission for you to do so. You will always speak truthfully to me. Do you understand?"

Valka was in process of looting the corpse of another Aureal when he felt the summoning grip him again. He straightened up, golden spear vanished from his hand, to find himself in the same bedroom that he had first seen. This time the Dunmer looked right up at him with those peculiar red-on-red eyes, and spoke as if he took the summoning seriously.

Madgod curse him.

"I understand," Valka said, still outwardly calm and polite. Inwardly he felt the words sink in around his mind like a new shackle, binding him yet more tightly. "How will I address my new master?"

"Master Eldrin will be fine," he said, and couldn't help the smug, satisfied smile that broke across his lips. "Do you hate me?"

"Yes, Master Eldrin," Valka said, the words forced from his lips, his eyes narrowed slightly with the failed attempt to resist. "Passionately."

Eldrin laughed. Valka was just like the betmer, hating their station in life but powerless to rail against their betters. It felt_damn good_to know he where he sat in the order of things.

There was a knock at the door and Eldrin turned, letting his face settle back into neutrality. As he expected, his father was there when he opened it, and Gilan Llethri jolted like he was having a heart attack when his eyes landed on the imposing figure of the Mazken just standing there in his son's bedroom.

"Almsivi! What is going on!?" Gilan gasped, one hand slapping over his chest.

"Father, Uncle Zulkan gifted me this ring of summoning," he said evenly, raising his hand to show the ring. "It belonged to Aunt Sella, although no one knew what it did before now. Can you believe they were just sitting on this all these years?" He looked back at the Mazken. "Valka, this is my father, Gilan Llethri." He thought of ordering the creature to obey his father as well, but decided against it. Valka would be his alone.

"From now on, Valka is my body guard."

Gilan scowled, tearing his eyes away from the daedra to narrow them at his son.

"You're going to get yourself killed, or someone else killed." Eldrin could tell from his father's tone that he was due for a lecture, and there was no need for that to happen in front of Valka.

"Valka, dismissed," he said without turning, dropping his hand to join the other behind his back.

Valka surveyed the elder Dunmer with only the mildest interest once it became clear Eldrin wasn't ordering him to kill. So this was his mortal master's physical progenitor. He supposed they looked somewhat alike, always a very strange notion. He was glad enough to be sent away.