He rose out of the bath and dried himself off, walking nude through the warm basement of his home to the bedroom, where he had left his leathers on the bed.
And frowned.
There had been a time when just walking from the bath to the bedroom like that would have resulted in his spending at least another hour in the bedroom, and he missed that more than he could say. He missed her teasing him, her laughter, the frankly greedy way she had regarded him any time he was near enough for her to start undoing those same leathers. He missed the excitement that would start dancing in her eyes when he or Delvin or Vex would come to her with a particularly juicy heist possibility. He missed her fire, her temper, and the way the two of them fit together as if they’d been cast in the same mold. He even missed fighting with her when they had a disagreement.
He missed being called Red.
And he was angry, angry beyond belief that he missed her at all, after what she’d done.
“I can’t do it any more,” he murmured as he slid into his armor.
I can’t stand trying to sleep in this bed. Alone. No, that’s not right. I can’t sleep in this bed alone, at all. I’ve been trying, for … how long now? Months. I can’t bring myself to find anyone else to help me warm it up, either. Not interested. Not interested in much, if the truth be told.
If I don’t get some sleep soon I’ll be no use to anyone.
He shook his head.
That’s exactly what he told me.
If not for Roggi I’d be dead by now. Those were some dark days. What a sick joke it is for life to be playing on the two of us. Poor lad hurts just as much as I do, I know it. He’s missing her and feeling guilty besides.
He combed through his hair with his fingers and walked over to open the strongbox sitting beside their desk. In it were a heavy amulet and a ring, Dagnell’s Bond of Matrimony. He lifted the amulet out and stared at it.
They had been dark days. He remembered them all too vividly, even though he’d done everything in his power to blot them out. The very worst had been that morning, waking up late to a throbbing headache and realizing there’d been more than mead in that flagon. Then there was the awful, gut-wrenching sick feeling, followed by panic and then rage, when he found the Amulet and the ring on the table, upstairs.
He remembered it, every painful moment of it, the pain that had begun like being stabbed through the chest and had since become a pain he couldn’t rest from because it stung him at irregular intervals.
Why? That’s what I don’t understand. We love each other. Don’t we?
It wasn’t just the outrageous sex. He knew that part was good, and he knew she would agree; no woman he’d ever met could pretend that well. He’d never expected to have anything like it again at his age. It had been more than that, for him at least. He’d been… happy. They went together. They fit. He’d known that long before they ever had their first embrace, much less anything else. He’d never expected to have anything like that in his life, either, and it was strong and true and something that had been worth waiting for.
And then she was gone and he couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t the disagreement over Maven. Maven… wasn’t really a disagreement, only a difference of opinion on how soon anything could be done, if it could be done at all. And they’d worked through her unreasonable anger about skooma. They were bonded through the Guild, they were bonded through being Nightingales, and they were bonded to each other through a promise before Mara. And then she was gone.
I still can’t figure it out. I hate it when I can’t figure things out.
He knew she felt guilty about Roggi. He’d always known Roggi was going to be an issue. He’d known what a powerful pull there was between the two of them. He’d hoped, maybe, that they could overcome it but they were human, after all. He didn’t blame either one of them, he was simply… disappointed.
After the life I’ve lived, who am I to say anything about that. That wasn’t a good enough reason for her to go. I didn’t want her to go because of it. We promised forever, the two of us, and I would give her forever, still, if she would just come back.
I still love the lass. I always will. And I hate that.
He sighed and looked around the room, then stood in the doorway and leaned his forehead against the wooden frame.
Come back to me, Dag. That’s all I want. It’s no kind of life without you here, not any more.
He’d tried his best to end that life, the slow way. At first it felt better to be continually drunk and then it didn’t. He couldn’t do his job, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep; all he could do was sit and ruminate over the unfair things that had happened, and drink more in despair at the situation and disgust at himself for the way he was failing to handle things. All he could think of was trying to make the pain stop. It didn’t matter what the Guild was doing, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought of him; all he wanted was for the pain to go away. Delvin would try to talk to him. At first he would bellow at him and send him away but eventually he would just sit, not quite hearing, and ignore. And he’d gotten so sick, so weak, and in the back of his mind was a voice telling him just keep it up and soon it will be over.
I think I lost my mind.
And then Roggi had come, letting himself in the front door.
Roggi had stayed with him for a good long while, helping him pull himself back together.
Lad’s a good cook. I’d be skinny as a fence post if not for him because I wasn’t about to feed myself. Wish I could have talked him into joining us in the Guild. He’s damned good with a lockpick and we can always use a good infiltrator.
He smiled to himself remembering the day had had learned that about Roggi. He’d picked that moment to start walking in the sun, to get his muscles moving again, and hadn’t noticed that Roggi was out as well. He had made his slightly wobbly return from a lap around the city just in time to see Roggi drop into a crouch and go to work on the door’s lock. It took only a second or two before he was inside. Roggi had locked himself out, and then he’d let himself back in.
That was something to see. That’s a good lock, one of the best. Has to be, in a place like this.
He’d followed Roggi in and offered him a spot in the Guild right then and there. “You’re really good, lad. We need people like you in our outfit.”
And Roggi had laughed at him, all in good humor, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement.
“So it’s your outfit again, eh? That’s good to hear, Brynjolf. But no, I won’t join you. I appreciate the vote of confidence, but no.”
“That’s a shame. Where’d you learn to do that so well?”
“Eh. Ulfric’s outfit.” He had grinned, and shrugged, and they’d talked about it a bit but not in any great detail. Then Roggi had made him eat again, and take a wooden sword, and follow him out onto the back deck to practice sparring for a bit. And they never talked about her.
Roggi had gotten him back into shape again. He’d almost bullied Brynjolf into eating, had made him exercise his mind and his body, and hadn’t let him lapse back into drinking even once. Roggi had abstained as well, even though Brynjolf caught him sniffing the air wistfully a couple of times as they walked past Black-Briar Meadery. It was good for him, too, he’d said; and Brynjolf knew enough about Roggi to know that was the truth. Besides, Roggi told him, he’d been injured not all that long before coming to Riften and he was still getting back into shape, himself; the two of them were not youngsters any more and they needed to work at it. That’s how it had gone, until he’d felt strong again, able to hold his head up and walk into the Cistern even though people stared at him when they thought he wasn’t looking, trying to tell whether he was whole or was going to fall apart on them again.
He’d taken Roggi down to the Cistern and introduced him to everyone he hadn’t met already, as though Roggi was an unofficial Guild associate like Vekel or the shopkeepers outside the Flagon. Nobody there had ever questioned him when he brought a person into the Guild, except to tease, and they didn’t then, either. He’d started getting a feel for the state of jobs currently underway, although Delvin and Vex and Karliah had kept things well under control in his absence and he didn’t feel especially necessary. He’d even gone to see Maven Black-Briar, who hadn’t bitten his head off but had, rather, seemed pleased that he was doing better.
If I didn’t know better I’d almost think she cared about me. People had given him a hard time about Maven for years, but it had never been like that. She liked him well enough, that was clear; but to her he was primarily a tool to be employed to its fullest. And that’s fine, because that’s what she is to me, as well. A means to a great deal of money.
He and Roggi had enjoyed each other’s company. But they’d never once talked about Dag after that first awful night, when he had cried on Roggi’s shoulder through the haze of drink and exhaustion and illness, as if there’d been no end to the tears.
Then Roggi had gone home, and the house was empty again, and it was lonely.
He looked around again, then down at the amulet in his hand, and nodded.
“Well, damn. I guess it’s time.”
He slipped the Amulet of Articulation around his neck, scooped the ring out of the strongbox and into a pocket, and then found a crate and started tossing things into it.
——–
Karliah was there when he maneuvered himself down the ladder into the Cistern and dropped the crate onto the bed he’d slept in for years. She was in her Nightingale armor, as usual, but had removed the headgear, and he saw her eyebrow rise when she spied him.
“Moving back in?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, lass. It’s about time I stepped up and did my job.”
“You can do your job whilst living in a comfortable home, Brynjolf, but I won’t argue with you if this is what you’re determined to do. At least you can take the good bed with the screen if you insist on sleeping here, instead of using the old lumpy one.” She paused and made a sympathetic face. “She didn’t use it more than once or twice. It’s almost pristine.”
He paused and looked across the way at the bed Karliah had fancied up all that time ago. It did look a good deal more comfortable than the one his bones remembered none too fondly.
“Good idea, lass. I think I will. Give me a moment and then I want you to come with me to talk to Delvin.” He picked up his crate and made for the walkway.
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you, Brynjolf,” she said quietly. “He’s not going to take the job.”
Brynjolf sighed. “Blast. I had hoped, but… never mind. We still need to talk to him. I need to know where we stand and I want to make sure I know everything you know.” He paused for a moment, then looked directly into her violet eyes. “Karliah – will you know if she … if something happens with the Key?”
She nodded, and dropped her voice even lower. “I will. And so will you, Brynjolf. Trust me, it will be very clear to both of us if that happens. Thus far, she’s done nothing to break her vow.”
At least not that vow, anyway.
“All right then.”
He dropped the crate onto the bed and then motioned for her to follow him into the Ragged Flagon.
Delvin Mallory looked up at him and smiled, or at least made the face that passed for a smile with him. “Good to see you, boss. What can I do for you?”
Brynjolf sighed. “You can stop calling me ‘boss,’ Delvin. We’ve known each other too long for that. And besides that, I’m going to ask you one more time if you will…”
“No, Bryn,” Delvin said, shaking his head. “We’ve been over this. It’s your job. It’s not my kind of thing. I’m at my best working behind the scenes.”
“Everyone in Tamriel knows you, Delvin,” he grumbled.
Delvin grinned. “Look, Bryn. I’m too old to be a leader, and too many people in too many places know me for me to be a leader. I’m of better use to you being your, um…”
“Jack of all trades?” Brynjolf grinned.
“And Master of none, and I’d like to keep it that way, if you don’t mind. I see you’re wearing the Amulet. Stepping up? About time, if you ask me.”
“You need to give people time, Delvin,” Karliah objected. “Not everyone is made of cast iron the way you are.”
“Stahlrim, my pet. I’m harder than cast iron.” He smirked.
“Delvin, you’re hopeless,” she groaned.
“Yes I am. And that doesn’t answer the question. Bryn?”
“Well someone has to do the damned job,” he grumbled. “Look, Delvin. Here’s how it is. I’m Second. Still. We still have a Guildmaster, she’s just not here.” She’s… just not here. “Maybe she’ll come back, maybe she won’t. But unless or until we make a decision to remove her,” and I just can’t bring myself to do it, “it looks like I’m Acting Guildmaster again. I’ve done it before and,” he said with a sigh, “as we all know, Maven likes me.”
Karliah and Delvin looked at each other and nodded.
“Good. That’s good, Bryn. That’s what I like to hear. I’m sure Vex will agree when she gets back from her job. Now then. Shall we fill you in on the latest? Pull up a chair. Have a drink.”
Karliah smiled, nodded, and sat down. Brynjolf motioned to Vekel to bring him a flagon of mead, then sat down opposite Delvin. He wasn’t concerned about having a drink, not any more. Roggi had gotten him well again, and he intended to stay that way.
____
He’d been wandering around the Guild for several hours and then settled down in the Flagon, falling back into old and comfortable routines, when the Ratway door opened behind him and a bright voice called “Vekel, I’m positively parched! Have you got any of that lovely Cyrodilic brandy about, perhaps?”
Vekel looked at Brynjolf and rolled his eyes.
“Yes, you know I keep some here just for you. Assuming you’ve got the coin. I like you but there’s still no handouts.”
“When have I ever asked you for a handout, Vekel?”
The man rounded the corner and moved across the floor to the bar, sliding any number of gold coins toward Vekel and taking his drink. “Thank you, dear,” he said with a grin, then sipped the drink and turned, his eyes lighting up when he spied Brynjolf.
Yes, here I am, lad, come try to get me. You know you want to. He waved the man over.
“Save the dear for someone else, Andante,” Vekel grumbled. “I’m not one of your pretty boys.”
Andante was the name he used, and nobody had been able to get any other information out of him, not even Delvin or his network. He was an Imperial, with dark shoulder-length hair, a short beard, and blue eyes, quite handsome as far as Brynjolf was concerned. He was also showy, exuberant, and flamboyant, qualities that didn’t usually go well in a field built on the bedrock of shadows and stealth. But Brynjolf had recruited him, not long before Dagnell left, because the boy had the most amazingly nimble fingers for pickpocketing that he’d ever seen. And, he had to admit, the boy was nearly as smooth a talker as he was himself.
Besides, Delvin’s contacts told him that the boy was also in the Dark Brotherhood, and was a rather accomplished assassin. He didn’t condone needless killing while on Guild business but it was good to know that the boy was perfectly capable of holding his own in a pinch.
Boy. I have no idea how old the lad is but he’s no boy. He’s been around awhile.
“He most certainly isn’t one of my pretty boys,” Andante whispered, smiling, as he slid into the chair opposite Brynjolf. “You, on the other hand….”
Brynjolf snorted. He’s smooth but sometimes he’s absurd. He’s been after me since the day I met him. “Save it, Andante.”
“So I hear you’re back in charge. Very good.”
“Word travels fast around here. Yes, and Delvin filled me in on the job you were doing for Vex. Did you get it done?”
“Of course,” Andante said, sliding a small felted bag across the table.
Brynjolf opened it to find several stunning rings, the ones Vex had sent Andante to remove from a wealthy mark in Solitude just a couple of days earlier. They would fetch a fine price, either whole or as gems and gold, and best of all their former owner was someone who’d richly deserved to have them removed from her possession. He grinned. Sometimes the simplest things are the most satisfying.
“Well done, lad. Here’s your payment.” He slid a sizable coin purse across the table in the opposite direction.
“Oh please don’t ‘lad,’ me, Brynjolf,” Andante whined. “I know I’m not the same vintage as you but it makes me feel like I’m your son. And that would be perfectly creepy if, you know…”
“Don’t start with me, lad,” Brynjolf grumbled. “We’ve been through this before.”
The boy is so persistent. Yes, he reminds me of Dynny. Yes, I’m alone. No, I’m not interested in taking him on right now.
Andante laughed. He had a bright, pleasing laugh that Brynjolf enjoyed hearing – when he was in the mood to hear a laugh. He wasn’t convinced that this was such a moment. He still felt oddly conflicted about having moved out of Honeyside.
“Listen, Andante, you had very good timing. I’ve got something for you.”
Andante’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief. He reached up and stroked his own short beard, feigning thoughtfulness.
“Do you really?”
“Cut it out, lad. Right now. Enough. Understand?”
Andante pouted.
You know, I see that pout. He plays it up so pretty. But I see steel underneath it, and something else that I haven’t figured out yet. But I will.
He fished into his pocket and pulled out a key, pushing it across the table. “Here. Take it. It’s the key to Honeyside. I’ve moved out, and I’d rather see you in it than watch it get filled with cobwebs.” And grunge. Shor’s arse, why did I have to think about that? Turning the knife myself?
Andante’s eyes widened, and he dropped all his pretenses.
“Seriously? You’re giving me Honeyside?”
“I think it will suit your refined tastes, don’t you?” Look at that face. I’ve completely surprised the lad. He forgets I’ve been at this game a lot longer than he has.
“Well yes, but…” Andante met his gaze, one side to the next and back, clearly trying to decide whether the offer had any strings attached. “You are serious, aren’t you. Why are you moving out?”
“Moved. Past tense. It’s done. I’m tired of not getting any sleep. I missed the Cistern.”
Andante laughed, a loud burst of amusement. “Right. I’ll buy that.” He shook his head. “Well I don’t pretend to understand why this is happening, Brynjolf, but I am very grateful and I’ll take you up on the offer. I’ve been staying in that fishing shack just outside Honeyside and while it is better than a smelly mattress in a sewer….” He pushed back his chair.
“I know you have. I have good eyes, even for someone of my vintage.”
“Then you’ll have caught some of my midnight dips in the lake?” Andante gave him a mischievous smile.
“You swim in nothing more than your skin and you’re fond of diving and mooning the world. Yes I’ve seen you. You really are quite the exhibitionist.”
Andante grinned at him, drained his brandy, waved, and made his usual grand exit from the room.
Brynjolf sighed and pushed himself out of the chair, then made his way to the bar. “A mead, Vekel. That boy tires me out.” He reached for his coin purse, only to have Vekel shake his head.
“No. On the house tonight, Bryn. It’s good to have you back.”
