It was mid-afternoon when they reached the gates of Riften.
They’d stopped in Shor’s Stone for a quick rest and said hello to Filnjar, the old smith. He asked whether, if she was ever headed north again, she would bring him a package from the apothecary in Riften. “I sent an ore sample down to the apothecary for them to look at. Want to know what it is before I start pulling it out of the ground. But that Elgrim. He’d forget his pants if his wife didn’t dress him.”
Dag and Roggi had laughed, and she agreed to his request. “I don’t know how long it will be, but if he hasn’t gotten the package back to you by the time I head north next, I’ll bring it.”
It was a beautiful day, and they had made good time on the road. The carriage driver nodded to her and so did Brynjolf’s guard, the one who had tried to shake her down for coin. As they slipped through the gates, Roggi chuckled.
“I guess they all know you here,” he said.
“Yeah, I think I made an impression.” Hadn’t she just. She was glad they had no reason to visit Haelga. She scanned the area; it was busy and noisy as usual, and was a welcome sight. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it feels good to be back.”
Roggi made a disgusted noise. “Bah. This city is corrupt. Rotten to the core.”
Dag glanced at him in surprise. “I thought you said you hadn’t been here in years.”
“Haven’t. But some things don’t change. The only good things here are the meadery and the Temple of Mara.”
“What’s with the Temple?”
“It’s where people in Skyrim come to get married, you goat,” Roggi snorted. “It’s the only one in the whole province, and they had to put it in the middle of this … place.”
“I’m not from Skyrim,” Dag laughed. “How was I to know?” Then she stopped, hoping she hadn’t touched that raw nerve again. He had, after all, said they – he and Briinda – had been on their way to get married in Riften, back then. It hadn’t occurred to her that it was the only place to do so, but she should have guessed. Windhelm was so much closer to Kynesgrove than Riften was, after all. To her relief, though, Roggi smiled at her.
Well he’s not going to be happy with me, then, that this has turned into home base, Dag thought. “Come on. We have to go see the Jarl.” Dag took his hand and tugged him toward the keep.
Jarl Laila greeted Dagnell warmly. “There you are. I was wondering when you’d return to us.”
Dag nodded. “Cragslane has been cleared out, but…”
But Laila interrupted her. “It’s wonderful to have good news for a change,” she said, smiling again. “You’ve been quite an asset to the people of the Rift. I’ve had reports about you from the citizens; they look to you as a protector, a beacon of hope.”
Dag tried not to let her mouth sag open. Really? A beacon of hope, me? I guess she hasn’t had reports from Bersi Honey-Hand lately. It would have been enough to set her laughing, but she didn’t get a chance.
“I have only to honor you with the title of Thane,” Laila pronounced. “There is but one requirement. A Thane must maintain permanent residence within the city walls. It just so happens that there is such a property available at this time. Speak to my steward. Once the home is yours, return to me and I will make your title official.”
This time Dag’s mouth did sag open. It was all just a bit unreal. A moment passed, then another, until Roggi elbowed her in the ribs.
“Oh! I’m sorry. Um, it would be an honor, my Jarl.” She supposed that might be an appropriate thing to say. Then she bowed and turned to walk back through the great hall. It was baffling. She’d walked into this city in rags, strong-armed half the merchants and gotten another put in chains, managed to anger someone enough to send the Dark Brotherhood after her, and yet somehow the Jarl thought she deserved to become a Thane. She wondered who might have said something good about her. Wujeeta? Filnjar, up in Shor’s Stone? The beggars out at the marketplace, to whom she had slipped a coin here and there? Maybe Maven? She frowned. I have to go see Maven. Soon.
She didn’t even know whether she wanted to stay in Skyrim, much less buy a home here. She did a quick mental scan of the city. There was only one place she’d never investigated, a little house tucked into a corner across the canal from Bersi’s shop, leaning out over the water, quiet and serene. That must be the place. I can’t believe I’m even considering it, she thought.
“Well what do you know about that?” Roggi gushed when they were back outside. “A Thane? With a home in Riften? I feel like I should bow or something now.”
Dag looked at him; he was grinning widely and leaning forward as if to do just that. She swatted his arm. “Cut it out, now. I’m a lot wealthier than I was when you met me, but I’m sure it will be a while before I can buy a house. Assuming I don’t leave Skyrim altogether.”
Roggi looked startled at that, and more than a bit distressed. “Leave Skyrim? What are you talking about?”
“Well, I hadn’t ever intended to stay here. I was on my way to Morrowind and Cyrodiil, originally. I want to be someplace warm.”
“Oh,” he said, his brow wrinkling. “I see.” He looked thoughtful, and stood quietly for several moments. Then he smiled and reached for her hand, twining the tips of his fingers lightly around hers. “Tell you what. Stay with me. I’ll keep you warm. You won’t even have to buy a house. I’ll fix up the clan’s place in Kynesgrove.”
Dag chuckled. “You would keep me warm, too. You radiate so much heat.”
Roggi smiled and took her other hand, then stepped closer. “No, really,” he said softly. “We could, you know. We’re right here.”
We’re right here? What? For a moment Dag had no idea what was going on; then she realized that they were standing only a few long paces from the entrance to the Temple of Mara. Was he serious? She studied his face; he was still smiling as he had been just joking about her becoming a thane, but his eyes were deep, intense, and full of… He was serious, she realized. Roggi wanted her to visit the Temple with him, and talk to the priests.
For a moment, it seemed everything had stopped. How could this be happening? Could she just leave everything that was going on in Riften to be with Roggi? Would the Guild even let her? Would they come after her? After him?
Suddenly, it was as though she had stepped outside herself into another place, as cold and dark as the bowels of a cavern. She saw Brynjolf, hood up, creeping up behind Roggi, that glass dagger of his unsheathed, moving in for the kill. She shrieked “no!” but there was no sound. She fought to move, to stop this awful thing from happening, and there was no motion.
And just as suddenly, she was standing in the sun, in front of the Temple of Mara, looking at Roggi, confused and terrified.
No, Brynjolf had said no killing, right? Not unless it was absolutely necessary? He wouldn’t stoop to that, right? She was just being paranoid, right?
Roggi was still smiling at her. Nothing had changed, nothing at all. It was just her mind playing games.
Did Roggi really want her that much? For that matter, did she want him?
Oh that’s stupid, the little voice in the back of her head snickered. Of course you do. You’ve already made that clear. Yes, she thought, I think I really do, but …
Then she shook her head. It was too much, too fast, and she had to take care of business. She decided to play dumb, as though she hadn’t understood his hint. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think there’s any rush for me to buy the house. It seemed like a pretty open-ended offer.” Roggi’s eyes flickered with disappointment, but he didn’t drop his smile, and he didn’t press the issue. Dag was grateful. It had probably been just a whim, anyway. She knew he cared about her, but it was too soon to be thinking about… anything else.
“Let’s go check out the Black-Briar Meadery, shall we?”
“Ah, I haven’t been there in so many years. Sold.”
They got a drink at the meadery, then wandered about the market for a bit. Balimund greeted Roggi and nodded at his sword. “Been visiting my competition, eh?”
Dag laughed. “I didn’t know what kind of sword Roggi used, or I would have bought one from you, Balimund. I hope you know that.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, smiling as he hammered. “That’s what they all say.”
Grelka grunted at Roggi but gave Dag a smile. Dag spotted a fine-looking leather helmet in her stall and made Roggi try it on; it fit him perfectly. She pushed coins at Grelka. “We’ll take it.”
“Wait, I told you no,” Roggi objected.
“I don’t care. You need to protect your head, foolish, and you’ve had too many close calls lately for my taste.” He fussed, but took the helmet anyway as Grelka snickered and winked at Dag.
They wandered down to the apothecary, where much to Dag’s surprise, Roggi and Elgrim got into an animated discussion about the best ingredients for healing potions.
Hafjorg, Elgrim’s wife, smiled at Dag from behind the counter and waved her over. “I didn’t realize he was interested in alchemy,” Dag murmured. “I guess it makes sense, though, considering how hard he’s tried to brew mead. Filnjar told us you have a package for him?”
Hafjorg nodded. “Oh thank you dear. It will be lovely if you could deliver it for me, since Elgrim keeps forgetting. Men,” she said. “Sometimes it’s all we can do to keep them in line.” Dag chuckled, and tried to steer Roggi toward the door.
They wandered out to the docks. There was a fresh breeze blowing over the lake, and gulls screaming at the fishermen. A familiar figure rounded the far corner of the fishery building and made for its back door. It was Wujeeta, who saw them and waved. “It is our favorite company,” she called.
“Hi Wujeeta,” Dag replied, sharing a quick glance with Roggi. “I hope you’re well.”
“Yes,” Wujeeta said. “I’m feeling much better now, thanks to you.” She nodded at Roggi and headed inside.
“That was a good thing you did,” Roggi said quietly, after the door had closed behind Wujeeta.
Dag shook her head. “All I did was give her a healing potion. What you did, helping me out at Cragslane, that was more impressive. She’s better now, though, and that’s what matters.”
“You’re a good person,” he murmured.
No. No I’m not. “I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head sadly. But Roggi is, and that makes everything so much more complicated.
Dag looked across the water to the next dock. Maul was standing outside the warehouse, arms crossed, scowling at her. Her heart fell. He knows I’m here, she thought. That means Maven knows I’m back. And Brynjolf knows I’m back. She could just see Brynjolf scowling into his flagon, wondering where she had gotten off to and why she wasn’t reporting in.
She frowned, and sat down on one of the crates piled up on the dock, heaving a sigh. Roggi looked at her curiously. “What’s going on?”
“Roggi. I have to tell you something.” I don’t want to, her mind screamed. It’s the last thing I want to do, but it’s time and I have to do this, somehow. “There’s something I have to take care of, and I’m afraid we’re going to have to part ways.”
He shrugged. “Ok, I can go over to the inn while you’re busy. Is that what you mean?”
She shook her head and looked down at the dock. I can’t bear to look at his eyes. “No, I mean I think you will want to head back up to Kynesgrove. And I have to stay here.”
There was a long pause, and then his quiet voice. “After everything? I don’t understand. Why?” Dag looked up at Roggi, and the look on his face put daggers through her heart.
“Because I really don’t think you want to come with me where I’m going. You…. You wouldn’t like the people who sent me to Whiterun.” She looked up at him, hoping beyond hope that he would understand now, that it would be ok.
He stared at her for a few moments, his eyes wary. “When that assassin attacked, you told me there might be a connection to Riften, but I didn’t want to believe it. Were you … working with the Thieves Guild?”
She nodded, miserable.
He glared at her. His voice dropped. She had heard that tone before, and it sent a chill running up her spine. “You. Were working with the Thieves Guild. You took me with you to do a job… for the Thieves Guild. Of all people.”
“Yes, Roggi, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before now. I didn’t know how much you hate…” Tell him, her mind shrieked. Tell him how you got duped into it and don’t know how to get out. Tell him how you didn’t know him then.
He stopped her, holding up his hand, storm clouds rolling across his face. “How could you.” His voice shook, his eyes were part betrayal, part grief, all anger. “All of this time, even after we talked about what happened to both of us.”
“Roggi, please try to understand. We needed to get this taken care of and I didn’t know at that point…” His eyes opened wider for a moment, then narrowed in anger.
He interrupted her, shook his head. “We?” he said sarcastically. “WE? You’re not just working for them, you’re … one of them?” He stared at the decking, breathing slowly, looking as though he was fighting for control of himself. This was the face of the man who had snapped at her for asking about his family, the one who had broken Rolff’s nose – hard, angry, pained, and with every reason to be so. Long moments passed, an eternity, while Dag’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. This was worse than being attacked on the road.
Finally he looked up at her, his expression hard and full of betrayal. He spoke quietly, but in a growl. “Do you know, do you have any idea at all, how hard it was for me to let myself … be with you?”
Oh yes I do, she thought, remembering his comment about knowing the limits of his courage. I didn’t then, but I do now. She should have said that, but her voice wouldn’t come. All she could do was nod, miserably.
He shook his head. “Especially after we talked about what happened in the past? And to think that just now I almost…” He trailed off and turned away, shaking his hands as if to rid them of something disgusting.
Dag felt something wet on her face and reached up, surprised. From some place far away she marveled. She was not usually a weepy person, but had shed more tears in the past few days than she had in half a lifetime.
He turned back to her and shook his head. “Never mind. No. I don’t understand. I don’t understand at all. Goodbye, Dagnell. I’m heading home. I’d stay out of Kynesgrove if I were you.” He made as though to turn away, then scowled at her again and held out his hand. “Give me the package for Filnjar. I’ll do your errand for you.”
Dag was numb. This can’t be happening, not like this. She pulled out the package and one of the fat coin purses she’d grabbed at Honningbrew. “Here,” she said, barely able to control her voice or her shaking hands. “Here’s half my money,” she whispered. “I told you I’d split it with you.”
Roggi was flushed, angry. He snatched away Filnjar’s package and the coin purse, and hissed. “I’d like to spit on this money and throw it back at you but I’ll take it. I earned it. I owe Iddra. And my family always pays back every coin it owes, all the way back to Tiber Septim’s time.” He might as well have slapped her.
Then he turned, and stalked down the dock toward the door to Riften, but not before twisting the knife once more. “Find your own way to keep warm.”
The farther away Roggi got, the more it hurt. She wanted to run after him, throw her arms around him, tell him she was sorry, that yes, she had been stupid and selfish, that she would go to Kynesgrove with him – but it was too late and she knew it. When the door slammed shut, Dag sat and sobbed, not caring who saw. She’d just lost her best friend.
Again.
