“When did they die?”
Katla looked up from the parchment spread across the floor of Mira’s laboratory.
Mira walked over and crouched down across from Katla, the parchment between them. Today, she wore pale gray mage robes, the fabric flowing around her. As she crouched, the robes billowed around her feet, spreading out like the petals of a flower.
Elegant, graceful. That’s how Mira moved. So opposite from Tara, Katla thought. Tara had grace, a different kind, the grace of one with athletic prowess, of one always poised to strike. Mira had the grace of a noble trained from birth on how to move. One could be forgiven for not realizing she and Tara were sisters.
“We need the date of their death,” Mira said.
Katla and Mira were mapping out the order, tracing lineage from the original members they knew, creating a family tree. Today was the third day since they’d started. Katla had teleported home each night and come back to Mira’s early the next morning. They were making good progress, but were still in the Second Era, with many gaps.
Katla looked down at the parchment, then at her stack of notes.
“I don’t…there aren’t any.” She frowned. How had she not noticed?
Mira stood and walked over to the table with the books both women had accumulated to track the order. Mira picked up one and slowly turned the pages. She frowned, too.
“This does not make sense,” she said. She set down the book and picked up another. She held her frown as she flipped through the book. Mira put the book down and checked a third one.
Mira set the third book down and looked at the family tree they were creating.
“Are they hiding the dates? Why? Unless…” Mira grew thoughtful.
What?” Katla asked.
“When Tara was in Oblivion, who was there?” Mira asked.
Katla stiffened. “I told you. Tara Geonette, Lysona Meric, and about a hundred other people Tara thought were order members.”
Katla stood up and walked over to one of the chairs next to the table with the books. She sat down and held back a sigh. She didn’t want to have this conversation with Mira. Not another conversation where Mira wanted more details about Tara’s time there. About the one thing Tara would not discuss with Katla, or anyone.
“Wait here. I will make us some tea.” Mira floated down the stairs before Katla could respond.
Katla hadn’t seen Tara since those few days after she returned from Skingrad. Returned without killing the Copperhart family. Katla had been more relieved than she realized. Tara, all of them, had good reason to destroy the order, to kill members, but hunting them down like Tara had planned didn’t sit right. If Tara had killed the Copperhart’s, how would Katla have felt? Disappointed in Tara? Afraid of her? Would the woman she loved have been different? Katla thought yes. Would Katla love this new Tara? She didn’t know.
After Skingrad, they’d decided to write each other every day and use couriers to deliver the letters. Instead of waiting for weeks to see and talk to each other, Katla now had letters to read every night, as did Tara from her. The letters were delivered to whichever Penitus Oculatus agent was guarding Katla’s house. The agent would slip the letter under the door. The courier never knew where the letter was being delivered, keeping Katla safe, in theory.
Katla wrote letters for Tara and would place them under a rock in the courtyard outside early every morning. Though they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, Katla felt closer to Tara through the letters. They shared their mundane daily activities in ways they would have if Tara came home every night. There was comfort in the letters and a sense Tara was opening back up to her.
Mira returned with a tea kettle and two cups, both with tea leaves in the bottom. She poured the hot water from the kettle into the cups, then sat down across from Katla.
“I wish Tara would tell us more about the plane,” she said.
“Mira…”
Mira raised a hand. “I know. I know she is hurt. I know I, of all people, cannot ask anything from her.”
Katla sighed. “She won’t talk to me about it. I won’t push her to talk.”
Mira nodded. “I understand, Katla. I do.” Mira gave her a soft look. There was a tinge of guilt in her eyes. “We will press on without the information.”
“I have a theory,” she said, leaning towards Katla. “What if they are not dead?”
“How is that possible?”
Mira’s face became serious. “The Oblivion plane.” Mira’s tone shifted to her mentor voice, preparing to impart wisdom to those listening.
“In the Third Era, during the Oblivion Crisis, the Hero of Kvatch discovered another plane, not one of Mehrunes Dagon.” Mira paused. “Have you heard that?”
“No, just the basics of the crisis I learned in my schooling. I know the Daedric princes each have their own Oblivion plane and that Dagon tried to invade Mundas from his by opening gates.”
“Correct.” Mira nodded. “The Hero of Kvatch spent a lot of time entering and closing those gates. There was one that was not created by Dagon, though.”
Katla took a sip of her tea. She grimaced. It needed a few more minutes to steep. Mira was ignoring her tea.
“Mankar Camoran created his own plane of Oblivion, supposedly from a book, the Mysterium Xarxes, written by Dagon himself. Mankar designed it, it looked like a paradise, but was not, per descriptions from the Hero.” Mira leaned back in her chair, an excited look in her eyes.
“The Hero killed Mankar, which destroyed the plane.” Mira leaned forward again. “What I find fascinating is how members of the Mythic Dawn got to the plane.”
“How did they?” Katla risked the tea again. Perfect jasmine tea greeted her lips.
Mira took a sip of hers. “We do not know exactly how they ascended. Only that when they died, they ascended to the plane.”
“What does all this tell you about where Tara was?”
Mira thought. “I still believe Geonette has created her own plane of Oblivion, though I do not know how. Nor, how members of the order would get there.”
“So nothing new?”
Mira gave her a dismissive look. “No death dates. That is new. If Tara saw members there, and we do not have any death dates for known members, perhaps they went to this Oblivion plane while alive.”
“How Tara got there,” Katla said.
“Perhaps,” Mira said. “Perhaps the sigil stone sits outside the plane so members can enter it when they are ready.”
“How do they get past the barrier?”
Mira gave her a smile. “The ritual.”
Katla’s mouth fell open. “That’s what the ritual is for. They need the stone for the ritual so they can go to this Oblivion plane.”
Mira nodded. “It is all a guess, even if an educated one.” She paused. “You said your parents’ journal detailed the ritual?”
“Yes,” Katla said. “That section is so burnt we could only read a few words here and there, though.”
“May I take a look at it?”
Katla considered.
Tara and Katla had gone through her parents’ journal over a year ago now. Most of the journal talked about the Hammeheart history, Katla’s father had many entries talking about his grandfather. The middle of the journal had focused on their family, her mom marking many of Katla’s milestones, talking for the first time, walking, hitting her first bullseye with a bow and arrow. Those entries had brought back warm memories of growing up. When her parents were her world. Before she knew they were in the order. Before all of this.
Later entries they could make out seemed to talk about the order and her great grandfather leaving the order, though that part of the journal was severely burnt and they couldn’t be sure. Katla was hopeful creating the family tree would point to a break from the order. Perhaps her great grandfather had left the order and her parents weren’t part of it. Perhaps the order had found them and killed them for leaving the order. Had her parents worshipped Molag Bal, thinking he would protect them from the order? She still had too many questions.
Did she want Mira reading the journal, though? Reading these memories of her childhood?
Sharing the journal with Tara had been a way to be more intimate with her. Did she want to be this vulnerable with Mira?
“If you are worried about me reading anything personal,” Mira said, seeming to read her mind. “I will only look at the section that has the ritual.”
“No.” Katla decided. “You can read the whole thing. Maybe you can find something Tara and I missed.”
Mira nodded. “I believe I can use a series of spells to reveal written words not completely destroyed by the fire. Besides the ritual, if there are any missing entries that you want revealed, I could…”
Katla was staring at the family tree. So many branches on it, all moving towards an empty trunk. They had to be missing many members. They were missing too much. Katla wanted to know how her family fit into the order. All these notes and books, yet they weren’t getting the information she wanted. All this sitting around and reading, staying sheltered from the order. From people she was connected to in ways she didn’t yet grasp. She was standing still while order members moved about. She felt restless. Something needed to change.
Tara had gone to Skingrad to confront the order. Though she hadn’t killed them, she’d still taken action. What could Katla and Mira do?
“That’s great, I’d love that,” she said. She turned to Mira. “We need to go to High Rock.”
Mira lifted an eyebrow. The look reminded her of Tara.
“High Rock is dangerous for you,” Mira said. “For me as well, now.”
“Maybe by reading the journal, you’ll find more names, but it’s not enough,” Katla said. “Right now, we have a bunch of branches headed towards a trunk.” She pointed to the parchment. “That’s not how family trees flow. We need more connections.”
Katla looked at the family tree again. “We have to go back to High Rock and hunt down more names, more information. Some members must have died.”
Mira leaned back in her chair, thoughtful.
“You’re right. We need more details about the order.” She looked over at the books. “Information that is not in a bunch of dusty books.”
She looked back at Katla. “We need to travel throughout the province, visit every city, town, village that might have records. Find land, homes, businesses the order owns. We would be gone months, at the least.”
Katla nodded. “We need to do whatever it takes.”
“It will be dangerous,” Mira said. “Are you prepared to fight? To kill?”
“Are you?” Katla asked. Mira’s eyes widened. “I’ve killed before, Mira.” Katla softened her voice. “Can you kill someone, if you have to?”
Mira looked at Katla for what felt like hours. Finally, she stood and picked up the tea kettle.
“I will do what I must to protect us.” Mira gave Katla a serious look. “You have my word.”
Katla carried the cups and went downstairs with Mira. In the kitchen, she volunteered to wash the dishes.
“We don’t want to carry too much, so pack light. We can buy clothing as needed,” Mira said.
“I’ll only bring one bow,” Katla said.
Mira nodded. “I’ll have healing and some basic potions on hand, plus some ingredients. We can buy more as we travel.”
They bantered back and both as Katla finished up, firming up what each would bring.
“Do you have the stone?” Mira asked.
“No. Tara has it. We thought it best. The order should be less interested in me, and, well, how would anyone get to her in the palace.”
“That is smart,” Mira gave a short smile. “I forget she works for the royal family. Not how I pictured her as an adult.”
“How did you picture her?”
Mira’s face fell. “I spent so much time trying to keep her from practicing magic, I never thought about what she would want to be.”
“She wanted to be a mage,” Katla said.
Mira sounded somber. “Of course.” She adjusted her robes. “The Penitus Oculatus. She must be very good.”
Katla heard the sorrow in Mira’s voice. A woman who didn’t know her sister.
“She’s deadly. You should see her fight. She was picked to guard the queen for a reason.”
Tara had told Katla what Commander Maro had told her when he assigned her to Queen Rigmor.
“He said I was his best agent.” Tara had beamed. The compliment a bright moment in that time right after her return from Oblivion.
Katla needed to change the subject. She had to respect Tara’s wishes. The less she talked to Mira about Tara, the better.
She dried her hands on a towel.
“I’m going to head home. Collect the journal and pack. I’ll teleport here in the morning. How do you want to travel to High Rock?” She also needed to write Tara. Tell her what they were up to, tell her why she wouldn’t see her for…how long would they be apart?
“I think it best we do not use teleportation to get there as I only have a marker in the cave by the sigil stone in High Rock.” Mira said. “I think it best we avoid Wayrest for now, as well. We can travel to Skyrim, find a ship in Solitude traveling to the northern shore. We will start in Daggerfall.” That night, the letter Katla wrote to Tara was five pages long. She pressed a red mountain flower in between the pages. Tara’s favorite. Something for her to hold onto while Katla was gone.