Mystery of Talara, Part 1 |
2920, Evening Star 2920, First Seed 2920, FrostFall 2920, Hearth Fire 2920, Last Seed 2920, MidYear 2920, Morning Star 2920, Rain's Hand 2920, Second Seed 2920, Sun's Dawn 2920, Sun's Dusk 2920, Sun's Height 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 1 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 10 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 11 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 12 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 13 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 14 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 15 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 16 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 16 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 17 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 18 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 19 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 2 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 20 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 21 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 22 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 23 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 24 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 25 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 26 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 27 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 28 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 29 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 3 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 30 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 31 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 32 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 33 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 34 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 35 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 36 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 4 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 5 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 6 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 7 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 8 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 9 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 1 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 2 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 3 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 4 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 5 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 6 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 7 A dying man's last words A Fair Warning A Game at Dinner A Hypothetical Treachery A Less Rude Song A scroll written in blood A Short History of Morrowind A worn and weathered note Aedra and Daedra Ajira's Flower Report Ajira's Mushroom Report Ancestors and the Dunmer Antecedants of Dwemer Law Arcana Restored Arkay the Enemy Azura and the Box Biography of Barenziah v I Biography of Barenziah v II Biography of Barenziah v III Biography of the Wolf Queen Blasphemous Revenants Bone, Part One Bone, Part Two Breathing Water Brief History of the Empire v 1 Brief History of the Empire v 2 Brief History of the Empire v 3 Brief History of the Empire v 4 Brown Book of 3E 426 Chance's Folly Charwich-Koniinge, Volume 1 Charwich-Koniinge, Volume 2 Charwich-Koniinge, Volume 3 Charwich-Koniinge, Volume 4 Cherim's Heart of Anequina Children of the Sky Chimarvamidium Chronicles of Nchuleft Confessions of a Skooma-Eater Corpse Preparation v I Corpse Preparation v I Corpse Preparation v II Corpse Preparation v III Dagoth Ur's Plans Darkest Darkness Death Blow of Abernanit decoded package Directions to Caius Cosades Elante's Notes Elone's Directions to Balmora Fellowship of the Temple Feyfolken I Feyfolken II Feyfolken III Fighters Guild Charter Five Songs of King Wulfharth For my Gods and Emperor Fragment: On Artaeum Frontier, Conquest... Galerion The Mystic Galur Rithari's Papers Ghost-Free Papers Grasping Fortune Great Houses of Morrowind Guide to Ald'ruhn Guide to Balmora Guide to Sadrith Mora Guide to Vivec Guide to Vvardenfell Guylaine's Architecture Hallgerd's Tale Hanging Gardens... Hanin's Wake Hanin's Wake Homilies of Blessed Almalexia Honor Among Thieves Hospitality Papers How Orsinium Passed to the Orcs Ice and Chiton Incident in Necrom Invocation of Azura Kagrenac's Tools Last Scabbard of Akrash Legions of the Dead Lives of the Saints Lord Jornibret's Last Dance Mages Guild Charter Master Zoaraym's Tale Message from Dagoth Ur Message from Master Aryon Mission to Vivec -- from Caius Mixed Unit Tactics v1 Mysterious Akavir Mystery of Talara, Part 1 Mystery of Talara, Part 2 Mystery of Talara, Part 3 Mystery of Talara, Part 3 Mystery of Talara, Part 4 Mystery of Talara, Part 5 Mysticism Nchunak's Fire and Faith Nerevar at Red Mountain Nerevar Moon-and-Star Nerevarine cult notes N'Gasta! Kvata! Kvakis! N'Gasta! Kvata! Kvakis! Night Falls On Sentinel note from the Archcanon Notes from Huleeya Notes on Racial Phylogeny Odral's History of the Empire 1 Odral's History of the Empire 2 Odral's History of the Empire 3 Odral's History of the Empire 4 On Morrowind On Oblivion Ordo Legionis Origin of the Mages Guild Overview of Gods and Worship Package for Caius Cosades Palla, Book I Palla, Book II Peke Utchoo's last words Plan to Defeat Dagoth Ur Poison Song I Poison Song II Poison Song III Poison Song IV Poison Song V Poison Song VI Poison Song VII Progress of Truth Provinces of Tamriel Realizations of Acrobacy Red Book of 3E 426 Redoran Cooking Secrets Reflections on Cult Worship Rels Tenim Journal Page Response to Bero's Speech Saryoni's Sermons Saryoni's Sermons Manuscript Scroll of Tyronius Senilius' Report Sharn's Legions of the Dead Silence Sithis Smuggler's Island Song of the Alchemists Special Flora of Tamriel Spirit of the Daedra Starlover's Log Surfeit of Thieves Tal Marog Ker's Researches Tamrielic Lore Tarer's Aedra and Daedra The Affairs of Wizards The Alchemists Formulary The Annotated Anuad The Annotated Anuad The Anticipations The Arcturian Heresy The Armorer's Challenge The Art of War Magic The Axe Man The Battle of Red Mountain The Black Arrow, Volume 1 The Black Arrow, Volume II The Black Glove The Book of Daedra The Book of Dawn and Dusk The Brothers of Darkness The Buying Game The Cake and the Diamond The Cantatas of Vivec The Changed Ones The Consolations of Prayer The Doors of the Spirit The Dowry The Dragon Break Re-Examined The Eastern Provinces... The Final Lesson The Firmament The Firsthold Revolt The Four Suitors of Benitah The Gold Ribbon of Merit The Hope of the Redoran The Horror of Castle Xyr The House of Troubles The House of Troubles The Importance of Where The Legendary Scourge The Locked Room The Lost Prophecy The Lunar Lorkhan The Madness of Pelagius The Marksmanship Lesson The Mirror The Monomyth The Old Ways The Pig Children The Pilgrim's Path The Posting of the Hunt The Prayers of Baranat The Ransom of Zarek The Real Barenziah v I The Real Barenziah v II The Real Barenziah v III The Real Barenziah v IV The Real Barenziah v V The Real Nerevar The Rear Guard The Red Book of Riddles The Ruins of Kemel-Ze The Seed The Seven Curses The Seven Visions The Third Door The True Nature of Orcs The True Noble's Code The War of the First Council The Waters of Oblivion The Wild Elves The Wolf Queen, Book I The Wolf Queen, Book II The Wolf Queen, Book III The Wolf Queen, Book IV The Wolf Queen, Book V The Wolf Queen, Book VI The Wolf Queen, Book VII The Wolf Queen, Book VIII The Wraith's Wedding Dowry The Yellow Book of Riddles tradehouse notice Trap Unnamed Book Vampires of Vvardenfell, v I Vampires of Vvardenfell, v II Varieties of Faith... Vernaccus and Bourlor Vivec and Mephala Where Were You ... Dragon Broke Withershins Words and Philosophy Words of Clan Mother Ahnissi Yellow Book of 3E 426 Zainsubani's Notes |
The Mystery of Princess Talara Part I By Mera Llykith The year was 3E 405. The occasion was the millennial celebration of the founding of the Breton Kingdom of Camlorn. Every grand boulevard and narrow alley was strung with gold and purple banners, some plain, some marked with the heraldic symbols of the Royal Family or the various principalities and dukedoms which were vassals of the King. Musicians played in the plazas great and small, and on every street corner was a new exotic entertainer: Redguard snake charmers, Khajiiti acrobats, magicians of genuine power and those whose flamboyant skill was equally impressive if largely illusion. The sight that drew most of the male citizens of Camlorn was the March of Beauty. A thousand comely young women, brightly and provocatively dressed, danced their way down the long, wide main street of the city, from the Temple of Sethiete to the Royal Palace. The menfolk jostled one another and craned their necks, picking their favorites. It was no secret that they were all prostitutes, and after the March and the Flower Festival that evening, they would be available for more intimate business. Gyna attracted much of the attention with her tall, curvaceous figure barely covered by strips of silk and her curls of flaxen hair specked with flower petals. In her late twenties, she wasn't the youngest of the prostitutes, but she was certainly one of the most desirable. It was clear by her demeanor that she was used to the lascivious glances, though she was far from jaded at the sight of the city in splendor. Compared to the squalid quarter of Daggerfall where she made her home, Camlorn at the height of celebration seemed so unreal. And yet, what was even stranger was how, at the same time, familiar it all looked, though she had never been there before. The King's daughter Lady Jyllia rode out of the palace gates, and immediately cursed her misfortune. She had completely forgotten about the March of Beauty. The streets were snarled, at a standstill. It would take hours to wait for the March to pass, and she had promised her old nurse Ramke a visit in her house south of the city. Jyllia thought for a moment, picturing in her mind the arrangement of streets in the city, and devised a shortcut to avoid the main street and the March. For a few minutes she felt very clever as she wound her way through tight, curving side streets, but presently she came upon temporary structures, tents and theaters set up for the celebration, and had to improvise a new path. In no time at all, she was lost in the city where she had lived all but five years of her life. Peering down an alley, she saw the main avenue crowded with the March of Beauty. Hoping that it was the tale end, and desirous not to be lost again, Lady Jyllia guided her horse toward the festival. She did not see the snake-charmer at the mouth of the alley, and when his pet hissed and spread its hood, her charge reared up in fear. The women in the parade gasped and surged back at the sight, but Lady Jyllia quickly calmed her stallion down. She looked abashed at the spectacle she had caused. My apologies, ladies, she said with a mock military salute. It's all right, madam, said a blonde in silk. We'll be out of your way in a moment. Jyllia stared as the March passed her. Looking at that whore had been like looking in a mirror. The same age, and height, and hair, and eyes, and figure, almost exactly. The woman looked back at her, and it seemed as if she was thinking the same thing. And so Gyna was. The old witches who sometimes came in to Daggerfall had sometimes spoke of doppelgangers, spirits that assumed the guise of their victims and portended certain death. Yet the experience had not frightened her: it seemed only one more strangely familiar aspect of the alien city. Before the March had danced it way into the palace gates, she had all but forgotten the encounter. The prostitutes crushed into the courtyard, as the King himself came to the balcony to greet them. At his side was his chief bodyguard, a battlemage by the look of him. As for the King himself, he was a handsome man of middle age, rather unremarkable, but Gyna was awed at the sight of him. A dream, perhaps. Yes, that was it: she could see him as she had dreamt of him, high above her as he was now, bending now to kiss her. Not a one of lust as she had experienced before, but one of small fondness, a dutiful kiss. Dear ladies, you have filled the streets of the great capitol of Camlorn with your beauty, cried the King, forcing a silence on the giggling, murmuring assembly. He smiled proudly. His eyes met Gyna's and he stopped, shaken. For an eternity, they stayed locked together before His Highness recovered and continued his speech. Afterwards, while the women were all en route back to their tents to change into their costumes for the evening, one of the older prostitutes approached Gyna: Did you see how the King looked at you? If you're smart, you'll be the new royal mistress before this celebration ends. I've seen looks of hunger before, and that wasn't one of them, laughed Gyna. I'd wager he thought I was someone else, like that lady who tried to run us over with her horse. She's probably his kin, and he thought she had dressed up like a courtesan and joined the March of Beauty. Can you imagine the scandal? When they arrived at the tents, they were greeted by a stocky, well-dressed young man with a bald pate and a commanding presence of authority. He introduced himself as Lord Strale, ambassador to the Emperor himself, and their chief patron. It was Strale who had hired them, on the Emperor's behalf, as a gift to the King and the kingdom of Camlorn. The March of Beauty is but a precursor to the Flower Festival tonight, he said. Unlike the King, he did not have to yell to be heard. His voice was loud and precise in its natural modulations. I expect each of you to perform well, and justify the significant expense I've suffered bringing you all the way up here. Now hurry, you must be dressed and in position on Cavilstyr Rock before the sun goes down. The ambassador needn't have worried. The women were all professionals, experts at getting dressed and undressed with none of the time-consuming measures less promiscuous females required. His manservant Gnorbooth offered his assistance, but found he had little to do. Their costumes were simplicity itself: soft, narrow sheets with a hole for their heads. Not even a belt was required, so the gowns were open at the sides exposing the frame of their skin. So it was long before the sun had set that the prostitutes turned dancers were at Cavilstyr Rock. It was a great, wide promontory facing the sea, and for the occasion of the Festival of Flowers, a large circle of unlit torches and covered baskets had been arranged. As early as they were, a crowd of spectators had already arrived. The women gathered in the center of the circle and waited until it was time. Gyna watched the crowd as it grew, and was not surprised when she saw the lady from the March approaching, hand-in-hand with a very old, very short white-haired woman. The old woman was distracted, pointing out islands out at sea. The blonde lady seemed nervous, unsure of what to say. Gyna was used to dealing with uneasy clients, and spoke first. Good to see you again, madam. I am Gyna of Daggerfall. I'm glad you bear me no ill will because of the whores, I mean horse, the lady laughed, somewhat relieved. I am Lady Jyllia Raze, daughter of the King. I always thought that daughters of kings were called princess, smiled Gyna. In Camlorn, only when they are heirs to the throne. I have a younger brother from my father's new wife whom he favors, Jyllia replied. She felt her head swim. It was madness, speaking to a common prostitute, talking of family politics so intimately. Relative to that subject, I must ask you something very peculiar. Have you ever heard of the Princess Talara? Gyna thought a moment: The name sounds somewhat familiar. Why would I have? I don't know. It was a name I just thought you might recognize, sighed Lady Jyllia. Have you been to Camlorn before? If I did, it was when I was very young, said Gyna, and suddenly she felt it was her turn to be trusting. Something about the Lady Jyllia's friendly and forthcoming manner touched her. To be honest, I don't remember anything at all of my childhood before I was nine or ten. Perhaps I was here with my parents, whoever they were, when I was a little girl. I tell you, I think perhaps I was. I don't recall ever being here before, but everything I've seen, the city, you, the King himself, all seem ... like I've been here before, long ago. Lady Jyllia gasped and took a step back. She gripped the old woman, who had been looking out to sea and murmuring, by the hand. The elderly creature looked to Jyllia, surprised, and then turned to Gyna. Her ancient, half-blind eyes sparkled with recognition and she made a sound like a grunt of surprise. Gyna also jumped. If the King had seemed like something out of a half-forgotten dream, this woman was someone she knew. As clear and yet indistinct as a guardian spirit. I apologize, stammered Lady Jyllia. This is my childhood nursemaid, Ramke. It's her! the old woman cried, wild-eyed. She tried to run forward, arms outstretched, but Jyllia held her back. Gyna felt strangely naked, and pulled her robe against her body. No, you're wrong, Lady Jyllia whispered to Ramke, holding the old woman tightly. The Princess Talara is dead, you know that. I shouldn't have brought you here. I'll take you back home. She turned back to Gyna, her eyes welling with tears. The entire royal family of Camlorn was assassinated over twenty years ago. My father was Duke of Oloine, the King's brother, and so he inherited the crown. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Goodnight. Gyna gazed after Lady Jyllia and the old nurse as they disappeared into the crowd, but she had little time to consider all she had heard. The sun was setting, and it was time for the Flower Festival. Twelve young men emerged from the darkness wearing only loincloths and masks, and lit the torches. The moment the fire blazed, Gyna and all the rest of the dancers rushed to the baskets, pulling out blossoms and vines by the handful. At first, the women danced with one another, sprinkling petals to the wind. The crowd then joined in as the music swelled. It was a mad, beautiful chaos. Gyna leapt and swooned like a wild forest nymph. Then, without warning, she felt rough hands grip her from behind and push her. She was falling before she understood it. The moment the realization hit, she was closer to the bottom of the hundred foot tall cliff than she was to the top. She flailed out her arms and grasped at the cliff wall. Her fingers raked against the stone and her flesh tore, but she found a grip and held it. For a moment, she stayed there, breathing hard. Then she began to scream. The music and the festival were too loud up above: no one could hear her - she could scarcely hear herself. Below her, the surf crashed. Every bone in her body would snap if she fell. She closed her eyes, and a vision came. A man was standing below her, a King of great wisdom, great compassion, looking up, smiling. A little girl, golden-haired, mischievous, her best friend and cousin, clung to the rock beside her. The secret to falling is making your body go limp. And with luck, you won't get hurt, the girl said. She nodded, remembering who she was. Eight years of darkness lifted. She released her grip and let herself fall like a leaf into the water below. |