Brynjolf ran his hand through his hair, scowling at the floor, pacing just in front of Mercer’s desk, obviously infuriated.
“What exactly did Mercer take?” Dagnell asked tentatively.
He practically growled. “Better to ask what he left behind. He took everything; money, jewels, even the plans. Before Mercer took over, Gallus had been investigating potential targets for the Guild to heist. There were dozens of them; museums, estates, keeps, every kind of wealth you can imagine. I know where some of them are, and I’m sure Delvin does as well but Mercer took all the information, the maps, the…” He trailed off.
He paced faster. The anger winding up was palpable. He’d done a wonderful job of remaining calm in front of the others but he was starting to fray.
“I just can’t believe it. I don’t understand how Mercer could do this to us. We may be thieves, but the one thing we don’t do is hurt each other. That’s been the cardinal rule, as long as I’ve been with the Guild.” He stopped in his tracks, staring at the floor, his hands clenching into fists and unclenching. “Which is why we all hated Karliah all these years. He knew that rule, and he told us that she was the one who broke it. To imagine that he’s the one who killed Gallus. Crime is one thing. Murder is another. The bastard.” He started pacing again. “I don’t understand how he got away with it. I don’t understand what made him do it.”
“And what I truly don’t understand,” he added in a venomous tone, looking at Dag for the first time, “is why you two didn’t kill him when you had the chance. You had him right there and you didn’t do what needed to be done.” He was frowning, a disgusted sneer on his face.
The sudden roaring in her ears, the roar of anger, almost matched the heat of blood to her cheeks. Dagnell couldn’t believe he was saying such a thing, such a selfish, stupid thing. It felt like a slap across the face. She locked gazes with him, glaring, fighting not to raise her hands, words trying to form and not coming. And then they finally did.
“You never asked why, did you?” she spat out from between her clenched teeth, quietly enough that only he could hear. “Maybe, Brynjolf, it was because Mercer made me go in ahead of him. He was using me as a shield, a human shield, so that Karliah couldn’t get a clear shot at him. Maybe, Brynjolf, it was because Karliah put a poisoned arrow into me and paralyzed me, I mean truly paralyzed me so that I couldn’t move at all, and then disappeared, so that all I could do was watch while Mercer sunk his sword into me and gloated about it. Do you have any idea what that is like?” And maybe, Brynjolf, if you were anywhere near as good as you tell us you are all the damned time, you’d have known that Mercer Frey wasn’t what he said he was and stopped him a long damn time ago, before he could hurt people, instead of blaming other people for your own blind mistakes.
She hadn’t realized that she’d spoken that last thought aloud until his huge hands gripped her by the shoulders and he slammed her into the wall. Every bit of air left her lungs and the pain made her wonder if he’d broken her ribs. His face was rage itself, and so close to hers that she could feel his breath while she gasped for her own. He was trembling.
“Don’t you EVER,” he snarled at her, his voice pitched so that only she could hear the threat, “speak to me that way again. Not ever.” His fingers were so deep into her shoulders that she knew their prints would be there for weeks, and she gasped in pain in spite of herself. “Damn it to Oblivion, I could just…” and trailed off, his eyes on her but somewhere else at the same time, wild.
“You could just what, Brynjolf?” she hissed back at him. “Hurt me? Would it make you feel good to flatten someone half your size? Is that what you need to feel better about being wrong once in your life? Go ahead then,” she growled, squirming against his grip. “Hit me. You’ve wanted to do it forever. I’ve been hit before. I can take most men but I know I can’t take you. I will last about five seconds. If that’s what you need, do it. And if you can’t do it then let go of me.”
His eyes widened, stunned. He pushed himself away from her as though she was a hot blade fresh from Balimund’s forge, then spun away to stand behind the Guildmaster’s desk, leaning against it with both hands, his head down, hair obscuring his face, his shoulders moving as he tried to slow his breathing.
Dag winced as she tried to move her shoulders. In spite of herself, tears of pain were filling her eyes and threatening to roll down her face; even lifting her arm to wipe them away hurt. He’d come at her like a bolt of lightning, and she was lucky he hadn’t killed her right then and there by accident. She’d always pictured how strong he probably was, what a potential for violence he might possess, but she’d not even been close. He was so much faster than she’d imagined. He could kill someone and they’d never even see him coming.
She also couldn’t believe that she’d spoken her thoughts. They were cruel thoughts, angry thoughts, and she hadn’t meant to share them. But even so he’d blamed her for Mercer’s still being alive without knowing anything about what had happened.
He spoke, just loud enough for her to hear, but without moving. “I’m so sorry, lass. I just… I don’t know how to deal with this. I’ve known Mercer for years. Decades. He was family. Even now I’m having a hard time to grasp it all. It just makes me so angry. You have to know that I would never set out to hurt you, or anyone else in the Guild.”
Dag laughed, one quick strangled sound that would not be denied. Then she struggled to force her angry voice out of her clenched throat. “I don’t know that. I don’t know that at all. You’re not a nice family man, Brynjolf, you’re the heart of the Thieves Guild and you didn’t get there by being soft. I knew there was a chance you would kill us when Karliah and I first came in here. I’m grateful you listened to her, because she deserved at least that much. But this? After everything I went through to bring you proof? You don’t even know what I had to do…”
She stopped, fighting with all her will to keep control. Nearly dying at Mercer’s hand. The hours of trudging through snow; killing all those people in Markarth and barely escaping with her life, and that long, long trip back, all to show him what she, Karliah, and Enthir knew, so that he would stop putting his faith in a man who only cared about himself.
“I’m sorry that what I was thinking came out. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But now I’m glad I did. You needed to hear the truth for once.”
She turned to walk away, but was stopped cold by his hand clamping hard onto her arm. His voice was just barely above a whisper, and he spoke slowly. “You’re right. I should have seen it, but I trusted Mercer too much even to look. I’m sorry, lass. I should never, ever have raised my hand to you and I’m ashamed that I did. In fact you now have the right to exact punishment because I broke the most important rule of the Guild. But I hope you won’t, because we need to deal with Mercer. Please, stay a moment.” He dropped his hand.
She breathed deeply, several times. He said please, she thought, still practically vibrating with anger. I will stay because of that.
He blew out his breath and shook his head. Then, just as he had when she first met him in the Flagon, he straightened up and brought himself back to the matter at hand. Impressive, Dag thought. It’s so impressive. I wish I could do that. “We have to find him. He has to pay for what he’s done to the Guild. But before I can help you track him down I have to know everything Karliah told you. And I mean everything.”
So wait, I’m the one tracking him down now? Dag was about to erupt in fury. What was wrong with everyone else in the Guild, all the people he’d been complaining about who never did their share?
Then she swallowed against the knot of anger in her throat and nodded. He was right; she had just accused him of thinking he always knew everything, and now he was admitting that he didn’t and asking for her help. It was her obligation to tell him what she knew. And she did. As she talked, she felt her anger subsiding. She knew so much more than he did, and he needed to understand it. Because, in the end, he was the one who had to direct everyone else. I need to remember that, she thought. It had to be a difficult thing indeed to have leadership dropped on you without your leave. So she took a moment to gather her thoughts, and started to speak.
“Mercer is the one who killed Gallus, not Karliah.”
“Aye. I assumed as much from the last few entries in Gallus’ journal.” He sighed, shaking his head. “What else?”
She told him that Karliah had been the one behind Honningbrew and Goldenglow.
“Trying to make Mercer look bad with Maven, just as we thought. Clever lass.”
She told him that Karliah, Mercer, and Gallus were something called Nightingales. He looked truly surprised, and confused.
“Nightingales? But I always assumed they were just a tale, a way to keep the young footpads in line. Go on.”
She shared Mercer’s cover story about why the Guild’s money had been disappearing, that he’d been using it to hunt for Karliah, even though Gallus’ journal showed that he’d been taking it for himself long before Gallus’ death.
He nodded. “That’s what he’s always told us. I just assumed it was true. I can’t believe we didn’t even question it.”
Dag was the one pacing, now. She’d gnawed this in her mind so much and she needed, somehow, to explain her ideas. I don’t know whether my words are up to this, she thought.
“His mind has twisted things, Brynjolf. He told me that there was chaos in the Guild after Gallus’ death, that he had to step in to rescue it. I think he’s told himself that story so long that he believes it, that he thinks he saved the Guild, even though he’s the one who created the problem in the first place.”
Brynjolf frowned. “It’s a true story, as far as it goes. There was chaos, and he got things under control again, so that the killing stopped. He’s been a good leader in that respect, though we haven’t done very well otherwise, as you’ve seen. I always assumed it was just a result of losing so many people. It’s my job to do the recruiting and I’ve been working hard at it for a long, long time now.” He shook his head. “I still don’t understand it. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Dag watched him, all her anger drained now in spite of her sore shoulders, her own thoughts sifting through everything that had happened. I know why he did it, Dag thought. The only person Mercer Frey cares about is Mercer Frey. And yet, that didn’t feel right somehow.
Dag couldn’t bring herself to mention how cruelly Mercer had used Brynjolf’s name when he’d been about to stab her. Brynjolf was dealing with enough. He didn’t need to know how little regard Mercer actually had for him. And she didn’t even know how to begin to describe Karliah’s sad, lonely eyes when she blamed herself for losing Gallus. That was probably the thing that bothered Dag the most.
Dag looked away from Brynjolf, staring at the bookcase behind him, the place where Delvin had been displaying the funny little pieces she’d sold to him. They added a little color to this otherwise washed-out, dirty place. There wasn’t any theme to the collection, but Delvin liked the pieces. Maybe that was the theme.
I know why it started.
Brynjolf inhaled sharply. “What?”
Dag jumped. Damn. She hadn’t intended to say that aloud, either, but now she had to finish the thought. “He loves Karliah. Or at least he did.”
He made some noise that was a cross between a snort and a laugh. “What are you talking about, lass?”
“He loved Karliah. That’s what I’m saying. Did you ever really listen to him talk about her?”
“Well of course I did.”
“No, I don’t think you did.” She looked back at him, expecting to see an incredulous frown, but he was simply waiting. Impressive. He knows he needs to hear all the possibilities, no matter how silly they may seem. “When Mercer was telling me about Karliah it was the truest thing he ever said. His eyes…changed. He admired everything about her. They were partners, he said. They did everything together, he said. She knew everything about him, he said. And then she ended up with Gallus, and it just … gutted him.”
There was a pause. Then Brynjolf scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. You sound like a little girl telling a fairy story.”
If Dag hadn’t just seen how dangerous Brynjolf could be, she would have given in to her desire to beat on him. She took a deep breath, nearly shuddering from the effort to keep from raising her fists. I hate him. I truly hate him. I want to break his nose for a second time.
“I haven’t been a ‘little girl’ for a very long time, Brynjolf. My parents were gone when I was just a child. I never had the luxury of hearing fairy stories.” His eyes shifted away from her. That’s right, Red. You should be ashamed of that remark.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever been truly in love, but if you haven’t, you don’t know what it’s like when the person you want more than anything in the world is suddenly just gone, completely out of reach.” Her voice caught, threatening to break. Brynjolf looked at her, unreadable. “You can’t imagine how that hurts. It’s enough to make you crazy.”
He frowned.
“But this is Mercer, lass,” he said, shaking his head. “He did this to the Guild. The Guild was his life.”
Dag glared at Brynjolf. “Listen to me. I don’t like Mercer. I’ve never liked Mercer. I didn’t trust him from the moment you brought me into this room to meet him. He’s so…strange. But he’s a human being just like the rest of us. When he talked to me about Karliah he was telling me the truth, I would bet my life on it. Actually, I did bet my life on it. I would never have walked into that ruin in front of him if I hadn’t felt it all the way down to my toes. Not in a million years.”
Brynjolf’s face had gone completely emotionless. He was just waiting.
“I was right, too. He was telling me the truth. But you see, he didn’t tell me the whole truth.” She snorted. “I should have seen that. I’ve done the same thing often enough, leaving out a few choice facts here and there. But I didn’t. I don’t know what it is about Mercer; he fooled both of us and we’re both really good at reading people.”
Brynjolf raised one eyebrow but said nothing. Yes, I know, Red, she thought. I just got done telling you that you aren’t that good. Go ahead and kick me. She shook her head and continued.
“While I couldn’t move, I heard him talking to Karliah about Gallus. ‘He had you,’ he told her. I wish I could really tell you how it sounded. Gallus had everything. Everyone admired him. Everyone loved him, including Mercer, I think. And he had everything Mercer wanted in the world. It all went wrong in his mind.”
She watched Brynjolf’s eyes, completely unsure of what was going on behind them. He probably thought she was crazy. Maybe she was.
“I’ll bet nobody ever has been that way toward Mercer, have they? He’s not exactly warm and welcoming. People trusted his capabilities, his intelligence, but they never loved him.” Not the way they loved Gallus, she thought, and not the way they love you. Because people do love you, Red, whether you know it or not. They want to be around you. They trust you. They admire you. They want to be like you. Just like they did Gallus.
Brynjolf just looked at her. Then he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair again. “All right. We need to know where he’s holed up.”
His face was completely neutral, his eyes on her but focused inward, on his own thoughts. It was as though they hadn’t been in pain and at each other’s throats just a few minutes earlier. It was remarkable, but also unsettling.
“I’m going to start looking through our records to see if I can find anything that will help us, but I need you to do something else for me. There’s a house here in town, Riftweald Manor.”
Dag nodded. “I’ve seen it; it’s all boarded up. I figured it had been in a fire or something.”
Bryn shook his head. “That’s Mercer’s place. It was a gift from Maven Black-Briar after she kicked the last family out. He never stayed there, but he paid for the upkeep and hired a great lout named Vald to guard it. It’s the only other place I can think of to look for clues. I need you to get in there and search it for anything that could tell us where he’s gone. It’s the last place in Skyrim I’d ever want to send you, but I have no choice.”
He paused and shook his head. “You’re going to have to get past Vald. He’s a real piece of work.” He laughed sarcastically, one short bark of dark laughter. “You might want to talk to Vex about him. She knew him very well, if you catch my drift. Just get in, get the information and leave. And you have permission to kill anyone who stands in your way.”
He met her eyes, his gaze intense. “Be careful, lass. I don’t want to lose anyone else to that monster.” She nodded, and he walked away.
It was only then that she saw Delvin, on the other side of the room, watching her with a grim look on his face. He had probably seen everything that happened. It was pretty quiet in the Cistern. She wondered how many of the others had witnessed Brynjolf’s little outburst, or whether they were all too angry about Mercer to have noticed.