A/N: Hi there everyone! I really hope you haven't given up on this story, but I've had just about enough time to sneeze lately! Unfortunately this is just a progress update: I'm working on new chapters, and will have them finished as soon as I can - I'm hoping to have one or two chapters out in the coming months, but as Autumn and Winter set in I should have a lot more time + then I'll be aiming to bring this tale to a climax. In the mean time, here's a brief interlude to amuse...

Interlude

Matthieu Bellamont was using every ounce of skill he possessed as a Speaker of the Black Hand. Everything depended on his ability to remain as inconspicuous as possible as he edged his way towards the exit. He had never been popular at parties, but the Daedric Princes' curious ability to make one feel as insignificant as a pimple on a camel's arse had left him feeling particularly vulnerable, and he was in no mood to face his barmy Listener. Slowly he stepped from shadow to shadow, inching his way towards the door, and freedom. Heart racing in anticipation, he reached the threshold, and silently slipped over it.

"Ah, my apologies, sir," drawled Haskill. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to freeze. It would seem you have been sentenced to detainment at Her Madness' pleasure."

Bellamont had just tensed in anticipation of a fight when he found himself rushing through space-time, and ejected into an exceedingly dingy dungeon. He glanced around to take in his new surroundings, and prepare himself for any new dangers, but the most immediate thing he noticed was that he could move nothing but his eyeballs. Rolling them down to glance at himself with his periphery vision, he saw his own body, carven from stone.

"Ah, excellent! Loria was worried that with such an experimental spell there might be… complications. It seems her fears were unfounded, however."

Bellamont strained to see the figure of Haskill who stood tantalisingly out of sight. He tried to shout and curse, but was unable to draw air into his lungs.

"You will find yourself unable to move, eat, sleep or breathe, but you will have a lovely view of that wall for the rest of eternity. Congratulations! You get to live forever." Haskill's uncharactaristically sinister voice trailed away as he teleported back to the throne room, leaving Bellamont to gaze in horror at the putrifying wall.