“What now?” Sul asked.
Attrebus considered the road. Dusk was settling and the frogs in the marshes below were singing to Masser as it rose above the trees. Willows rustled in the evening breeze, and the jars and whills tested their voice against a forlorn owl. Fireflies winked up from the ferns.
“North takes me back home,” he said. “My father might listen to me now, give me troops.”
“Do you really think so?”
“No. The only thing that’s changed is that I lost the men and women he did trust me with. He’ll still think Umbriel is no immediate threat. He’ll put me in an extremely comfortable prison to make sure I don’t run off again, at least not until I’ve supplied an heir.”
“What then? You said Umbriel was traveling north, toward Morrowind. I think it’s going to Vivec City, or what’s left of it. If that’s true, we need to beat Vuhon there.”
“You said that before. You didn’t explain it.”
He saw the muscles clench in Sul’s jaw. “Where is it now?” the Dunmer demanded. “How fast is it moving?”
“I’m not sure of either of those things. It’s moving slowly, or it was. It took the better part of a day to cover the distance from the south coast of Black Marsh to Lilmoth, which Annaïg said is around fifteen miles.”
“Thirty miles in a day and a night, then. That only gives us a few days.”
“To get to Vivec City? Through the Valus Mountains? We can’t do that in twenty days. What if we went to Leyawiin, got a ship there—”
“No, not unless you know someone with a flying ship. We’d have to sail all the way up to the top of the world and come back down, or else land and go overland through wasteland.”
“Walk back, then. Why do we have to beat it to Vivec City?”
“Because I believe there is a thing there, something the master of Umbriel needs. Something he fears.”
“You seem to know everything about Umbriel except where to find it—and now I’ve told you that. I think it’s time you told me what you know.”
Sul snorted. “Don’t let your success with the regulators go to your head. You’re not my prince, boy.”
“I never said I was. But I’ve told you everything I know. You can return the favor.”
Sul’s eyes flamed silently for a moment, then he scratched his chin.
“I don’t know much about this flying city of yours—not specifically. I believe its master is a man named Vuhon. He vanished into Oblivion forty-three years ago, and now I think he’s come back.”
“This is the man who killed your woman.”
Sul went rigid. “We will not speak of her,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. “There was once a place in Vivec City—the Ministry of Truth.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Attrebus said. “It was considered a wonder of the world. A moon from Oblivion, floating above the Temple District.”
“Yes. Held there by the power of our god, Vivec. But Vivec left, or was destroyed, and his power began to fade, and with it the spells that kept the velocity of the ministry in check.”
“What do you mean?”
“It fell from the sky, you understand? It was traveling quickly, more quickly than you can imagine. Vivec stopped it with the power of his will. But the velocity was still there, ready to be unleashed. Do you see what that meant?”
“You’re saying it would complete its fall as if it had never been interrupted.”
“That’s what our best feared, yes. And one of our best was Vuhon. Along with others, he built an ingenium, a machine that continued to hold the ministry aloft. But there was a … cost.”
“What cost?”
“The ingenium required souls to function.”
Attrebus felt pinpricks along his spine.
“Umbriel—Annaïg says it takes the souls of the living …”
“You see?”
“But what happened?”
Sul was silent for so long this time that Attrebus thought he wouldn’t speak again, but he finally sighed.
“The ingenium exploded. It hurled Vuhon into Oblivion. Then the ministry crashed into the city, and Vvardenfell exploded.”
“The Red Year,” Attrebus gasped. “He caused that?”
“He was responsible. He and others. And now he has returned.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know what designs he has on Tamriel, but I’m sure he has them, and I’m sure they aren’t pleasant ones,” Sul responded. “But I think his immediate objective is a sword, an ancient and dangerous weapon. It’s tied somehow to Umbriel and Vuhon.”
“You’ve been hunting Vuhon all of these years?”
“I spent many of them merely surviving.”
“You were in Morrowind when all of this happened?”
Sul made an ugly sound that Attrebus later would realize was the man’s bitterest chuckle.
“I was in the ministry,” he answered, “I was also thrown into Oblivion. For thirty-eight years.”
“With Vuhon?”
Sul rubbed his forehead. “The ingenium used souls to keep a sort of vent into Oblivion open, specifically into the realm of the daedra prince, Clavicus Vile. You know of him, I assume?”
“Of course. He has a shrine not far from the Imperial City. They say you can make a pact with him, given the right cantations.”
“That’s true,” Sul agreed. “Although a pact with Vile is one you’re likely to regret. He’s not the most amiable of Oblivion princes.”
“And yet he allowed Vuhon to draw energies from his realm?”