C0DA Chapter 1: Audience
The Hortator sat on her dais, in her grandest audience chamber, her knees together, leaning slightly to the right, her elbows resting on the stone armrests, black-tipped fingers touching in front of her solar plexus. The long-nailed thumbs twirled around one another, the only betrayal of her impatience.
Kynareth was in attendance as a golden-skinned elf, with her husband in the form of Lorkhan, wearing a gleaming Daedric breastplate, to her left. To Kynareth’s right sat an Immortal in the form of an extinct Boiche squire, Y’ffre. Seated on either side of them all were the other Immortals in their faction; Dibella, Stendarr, Zenithar, Arkay, and Julianos. Including Mara, they called themselves and their allies NIRN.
Boethiah, Mephala, Azura, Molag Bal, Hermaeus Mora, Nocturnal, Clavicus Vile, Sanguine, Namira and a pissy-looking Mehrunes Dagon sat on the other side of the room from the Immortals, despite technically being Immortal themselves, they were their own faction, but like the others, had sworn fealty to the Hortator, and were permitted to attend. They were called the Ruling Princes.
A gong sounded, and the et’Ada ceased their muttering, all eyes were on the Hortator. Her thumbs stopped twiddling and she rested her hands gently on the armrests, correcting her posture. Her left hand opened and closed, as if wishing it was holding a sword. There were no computers, no memospores, no servitors in this audience hall. The silence was palpable.
A great door at the end of the chamber swung open, revealing a tall, slender, female figure. She entered the room, the light of the magical torches casting a warm sheen on her golden skin. Thick locks of black hair curled around her face, and tumbled down her back, pinned back with jewels of incalculable value, and more than one filled soul gem. Her eyes were large, dominating her angular face, dark brown, fringed by thick dark lashes that did not seem to need any cosmetic enhancements. She was swathed in silks the colour of starlight, if that was a colour, adorned with sequins of Aetherium crystal.
The Ayleidoon Hegemon herself, Verrynn of Aether Skies, head of the wealthiest faction in the Aurbis, was an impressive womer.
Feeling ashen and masculine, the Hortator imperiously bade the Ayleidoon Hegemon forward. As if she was floating, the Hegemon approached the dais, paying no heed to the gathered et’Ada, her attention completely focused on the Hortator. They had met before, a few times, but every time, it was with a wary unease.
“Would you like a chair, Hegemon?” the Hortator asked, her clear voice ringing through the cavernous room.
A low, womanly voice that sparked more than a bit of envy in the Hortator assented; and a young Dunmer steward brought the chair. The Hegemon slowly, gracefully sat down, carefully arranging her silks, as if it was she holding audience in her own domain. Even Kyne herself did not show such arrogant familiarity in the presence of the Hortator, who gritted her teeth and kept her face completely still. The large brown eyes turned up to the Hortator’s red eyes, and in that low, beautiful musical voice, she spoke.
“I understand you have some business with the Ayleidoon.” There was a moment of silence. “Hortator.”
“As the invitation stated, I need to place an order for one more echo-shard, on top of what you have already fulfilled prior to the invasion of the Deadlands. Preferably one capable of being sent back through time,” the Hortator said, her voice was strong and firm. “As soon as it can be produced.”
The Hegemon seemed surprised, a dark eyebrow rising, “Our strongest units, the Pelinal class, would be the best candidates, but this has not been attempted before. How far back do you intend on sending it?”
The Hortator gestured to Kynareth, who responded, “First Era.”
The Hegemon inhaled sharply, a hiss that seemed to absorb all the sound in the room. “Before Landfall? Even worse than foolhardy! Impossible, it’s too dangerous. The Pelinals are highly experimental units, they have only been used in battle—“
“To capture my plane.” A growl interrupted the Hegemon, from Mehrunes Dagon. “They are more than tough,” he said grudgingly.
“Shut it, Failed Thief,” barked Lorkhan. Kynareth elbowed her husband, her golden eyes flashing in swift irritation. Lorkhan ignored her, and continued, “You do not interrupt. That is not your place here.”
“Stand down, spirits,” the Hortator intoned in that frustratingly childish voice of hers. “Hegemon, this must be done and quickly. What is your price?”
“For the Hortator, as long as you own the risks of this foolhardy venture, your regard is satisfactory payment to the Ayleidoon. You have sent enough money our way in the past few years.”
The Hortator looked at Kynareth, who nodded almost imperceptibly. The Hegemon reached into the folds of her silks and pulled out a red diamond-shaped amulet that looked almost like a pair of shackles. “This is the heart of the echo-shard. I will have a ritual engineer delivered to you in the morning, who will guide the participants through the process of activating the Pelinal and helping it find the reflection you need. It is up to your Psijic to send it back safely through time and retrieve it, if that was your intention.”
The Dunmeri lad who brought the chair scurried forward and gingerly took the amulet from Verrynn, bringing it to the Hortator on the dais. It was surpringly heavy in her hand, and warm; she could not tell if it was from the warmth of the Hegemon’s body, or from some internal energy being released. Quickly she tucked it into a pocket inside her embroidered purple robes that she had taken to wearing during audiences.
The gong sounded again, dismissing the Hegemon, who floated out of the chamber soundlessly and with the briefest of curtsies to the Hortator. The Ruling Princes stood up and each made their courtesies to the Hortator before leaving, Mehrunes Dagon still scowling bitterly. That one would need to learn proper respect and loyalty, or he would eventually be a problem.
The Immortals remained. The Hortator descended from her dais and they stood up as she approached. She waved them back into their seats, and looked them each in the eye.
“Where is Mara?” she asked.
Kynareth replied as she melted into Kyne, “She supports this as a necessary move, but cannot bring herself to participate. The rest of us are getting stronger but she is getting weaker. We are doing this for her. For everything."
"Do you really think this is going to work? To get her more time until we can figure out how to heal her?" the Hortator asked, concern for Mara crowding through all her other emotions. Everyone in the chamber had tears in their eyes. It was involuntary, Mara was important to everyone.
Lorkhan smiled, "Maybe."