He had walked through the familiar house, remembering her presence in it. It felt different now, in a calming way. Andante hadn’t really made any changes to the place but his aura permeated it; there were things lying about that a man would use. He burned an incense of some type, regularly, and the house smelled good. Brynjolf approved. Somehow it felt like home, but without baggage attached.
Things were going well in the Guild. He’d been working hard, Maven had been installed as the Jarl of the Rift following Dardeh’s success setting up a truce, and everyone else was there in the Cistern, so he’d decided to take those nights off to sleep in Honeyside as Andante had offered. The previous night he had slept thoroughly and peacefully for the first time in weeks, in the bed that was by rights his, and he’d gone to the Cistern that day with a calm he hadn’t experienced in some time.
Dag hadn’t come home. He still wanted that to happen as much as ever and he would do everything he possibly could to make their marriage work if it did; but he didn’t expect it and he felt as though he might be able to leave it alone now. Her absence hadn’t felt like an open wound recently. He had come to a decision about something else, and for the first time in many months, on this evening, being without his wife wasn’t quite as painful as it usually was.
There’s nothing to stop me, anymore.
On this evening, Brynjolf had gone into the stash of skooma Andante kept beside the bed. He had taken one, and a bottle of ale, and stepped out on to the back porch to enjoy the sunset and the warm breeze coming in off the lake with both. He had sat there, relaxing as it turned dark and his mind went to a different place. A smile played about his mouth as his head rushed along to the once familiar buzzing of the potent drug.
I’m glad I don’t have to deal with any emergencies right now. Pretty sure I couldn’t. Why am I doing this, anyway?
Then he laughed at himself. He knew perfectly well what he was doing, and why.
He’d been a much, much younger person when he indulged, when he would visit his friend in Solitude. The two of them had done everything they could think of to do together, whether it really was a wise choice or not. But he’d been young and foolish, as the saying went, and since then life had gotten much more serious and the need for a clear head much greater, and the months had turned into years, and then into decades. On this evening, though, there was nothing at all to keep him from enjoying the ride, and he did so, marveling at how well he remembered the experience in spite of how very many years it had been.
After a time he wandered down into the warmth of the hot bathing tub next to the forge. He slid down into the water, his muscles gratefully relaxing. Oh yes, this is good.
He cast his mind back to those days, so long in the past, another period of time when he’d felt alive, and desired, and ready for anything. You were twenty years younger, you fool. More than that. Of course you felt ready for anything.
Dag had given him that feeling, again, for those few sweet months, and then had left him alone, feeling dried up, dead inside, and worthless. Roggi had gotten him back on his feet. But Andante’s constant attention made him wonder whether such a thing – feeling alive – might still be possible for him again, even now.
Then he looked around through the haze that skooma created of vision. He thought about what he had in mind, and smiled.
Well there was always a chance it was going to happen eventually, wasn’t there. I’ve been picturing it from the start, from the moment he peered at me from under that hood and I saw those eyes and thought it was Dynny looking at me from beyond the grave. That was a moment, wasn’t it; I almost forgot what I was saying. It took me a moment to recover and offer to buy him a drink.
Oh, I wouldn’t have done anything about it, of course, not if she had been here. I wouldn’t have had the energy. Say what you will but Dag and me together, well, that’s a mighty fine thing.
He grinned to himself. It didn’t matter how much he missed her, nothing would ever take the memory of those months away from him. He’d felt so thoroughly and genuinely loved and wanted. And half the time, exhausted, but in a good way. He’d been trying to focus on those feelings, those memories, instead of the sad fact that she was gone and his anger about it, and it had been helping, at least some of the time. And right now, he was feeling mellow and the memories had him smiling.
But she’s not here any longer and I don’t see any reason to hold back at this point.
Andante had been teasing him since they’d met, almost since the very moment they’d first spoken and most definitely from the first hours they’d spent talking over drinks in the Ragged Flagon. Andante had never made any attempt to hide the fact that he was ready and willing at a moment’s notice. He’d made so many leading comments that Brynjolf had lost track of them. He’d flashed him from the lake when he still lived in the fishing shack. And Brynjolf had appreciated his good looks all along, had even remarked about that to Dag when she was still there, while he’d still been in shock over how much Andante reminded him of Dynny.
And I worked that forge in the next room as hard as I could trying not to think about that, didn’t I. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but that was definitely there. Between the forge and Dag, I managed to put all possibilities of that out of my mind.
They’d spent a lot of time together since then. At first it was simply a matter of business. He would hand Andante a job; Andante would do the job and return. And then Andante would flash his blue eyes and use some come-on line or another, and he would tell him no, lad. Focus on your work, lad. And he would be flattered, nonetheless.
And I would look at him and see Dynny.
But he’s not Dynny. Not at all.
The longer he’d known Andante, the more time they’d spent together, especially after Dag had left. Yes, most of the time Andante was outwardly foolish, and persistent, and showy, and all the other things that he showed the rest of the world; but sometimes they’d talk together, quietly, about a job to be done, or something as simple as the weather in Riften, and he would be impressed with the depth of the man. He knew things. He was skilled. And he understood people; not as well as Brynjolf did but well enough for his observational skills to be impressive. He was also ruthless and, from what he’d observed and been told, brutal. There was so much more to him than people saw, and he shared it with Brynjolf. It was what he’d needed, especially as he eased back into being the Guildmaster, after Roggi had rescued him from the brink, after he’d been left on his own to rattle around Honeyside alone, and after he’d returned to the Cistern feeling confident about his work and completely at sea about everything else. And sometimes Andante would walk with him, just walk quietly around the city, as he had the night Dardeh and Roggi had gotten married. He knew with a certainty that Andante cared for him.
He saved me from myself more times than he knows. He probably thinks I’m nothing but a sour old man, grousing at everything that comes my way. He has no reason to know how much he’s helped me. Maybe I should find a way to let him know that.
Still, he’s not Dynny. He’s Andante, and he’s twice as strong and twice as dangerous as Dynny ever thought of being, and he’s not a nice man, not a good man, no matter how hard he pretends to be. That’s why he’s so good at this business. And the other one as well.
And there was something else, the thing he’d been thinking about for months. Andante had a power that had grown steadily stronger from the time he’d first noticed it.
Brynjolf had plenty of power of his own; but there had always been a part of him that quietly craved more. He’d honed the force of his personality and the craft of speech over decades, until he could talk his way into, or out of, almost anything. He’d worked hard until his battle skills were the equal of most; he didn’t need to use them often but when he did, he was prepared and effective. He had a sharp mind and keen observational skills. He wasn’t lying when he told them all he didn’t want to be in charge, even though he had always been quietly looking for ways to surpass Mercer; it was too satisfying to be able to work in the shadows, on his own, answering only to Maven and to the Guildmaster. But becoming an agent of Nocturnal had given him a taste of something else.
He could influence other people’s minds directly, now.
Mercer had used it on him, that day when he stood high above the statue of the Snow Elf. It had been horrifying. He knew he was attacking Karliah, knew he would best her if nothing stopped them, he didn’t want to do it; and yet Mercer had touched a place deep within him that he’d only ever been vaguely aware of, a flood of rage he’d never allowed free before. Even after they were safe and Mercer was dead, he hadn’t been able to get what Mercer had done out of his mind. He’d been thinking about it even as he tried to reassure Dag about her own killing rage, when he’d had the hardest time letting go of her, standing there at the mouth of Bronze Water Cave.
He wanted that power.
So when he had gone with Karliah to choose his own path in the service of Nocturnal he had chosen to become the Agent of Subterfuge. He could create havoc without moving a muscle, just using the power of his own mind. He had also found that he could control the power, if he was careful, so as to affect events without creating complete violence. He had worked hard at it, being very careful. A distraction was one of the best tools a thief could employ. But he’d had enough hard lessons in not being careful when he was a young man, and he wanted to be certain he had control before he used the power. Now, after months of practice, he was sure of himself.
Andante could also do something very much like that. He’d watched the man whisper in a mark’s ear and then move in close, and they seemed to welcome his nearness rather than shy away from it. He was manipulating them, Brynjolf had been certain of it, and he hadn’t known how. It had bothered him for months, and he had kept his eye on Andante, trying to learn his secret, all the while sensing how much more powerful Andante was becoming.
The lad is good at hiding it. But I have figured out what it is.
And I want it.
It will be the perfect way for me to spend the rest of my life. Nothing will ever threaten the Guild again. I won’t let it.
There’s nothing to keep me from it anymore, and I know just how to make it happen.
He stretched, and smiled in anticipation. I suppose I could make myself feel guilty about this if I really thought hard about it. I will be taking advantage of his nature, after all. But he’s a smart man, and he’ll figure it out quickly enough. The truth of the matter is that he wants me. And if I’m honest about it I’m looking forward to all of it. I have a feeling he is going to remind me even more of Dynny than he already does.
He nodded to himself, took a drink of his ale, and looked up at the ceiling as he heard the door unlock and Andante come into the house. A tingle of excitement ran up his spine, and he smiled.
Let’s do this, lad. I’m finally ready.
