The Bee and Barb was a busy place the next morning. Every available space was packed with folks enjoying breakfast. Dag paid for a bite to eat and sat on a bench near the door, watching people. There was a handsome young mage to look at, seated across the entryway and speaking to everyone as they walked by, so breakfast and the view were pleasant enough. So had her sleep been once she had finally dropped off. It had taken hours, though, as she gnawed at the task the Jarl had asked of her. There was absolutely no way she could take out a skooma operation alone. She would need backup. She only knew one person in Skyrim she could remotely ask for help, with no assurance that he’d even be willing. Before that, though, she would have to find his ancestral shield.
Dag finished her breakfast and walked out toward the sunny marketplace. It had rained a bit overnight and the air smelled fresh and wonderful. Most of the market vendors were at it already, and people were shopping or visiting. Red was back at his stall, setting out his big red apothecary bottles and scanning the area. He saw her approaching, she was certain of it, but he didn’t meet her eyes or acknowledge her in any way. Yes, she thought, he has simmered long enough. It was time to see whether he would pay his extra hands well, or not.
Without looking at her or even asking what she had decided, Red stepped closer to her and said, quietly, “Glad you’ve come to your senses. Let me know when you’re ready to get started.”
Dag had to bite her lip and fight down the urge to smack him. It irked her that he had assumed she would be back. But it was also still the case that he was bigger than her. A lot bigger, in fact. And presumably he had coin to share.
“Why are we doing this, anyway?”
“There’s someone who wants to see him put out of business permanently,” he said, unsmiling. “That’s all you need to know.”
“All right.” She hadn’t really expected an answer, but it never hurt to ask.
Dag was fairly confident she could do what he was asking of her. She could pick a lock well enough, and while pickpocketing really wasn’t her best game she had bought a lone invisibility potion in Windhelm. And she really did want to build up extra funds for the border crossing. She sighed.
“Ok. Let’s get started.”
Red became a salesman; bright, irresistible green eyes, brilliant smile, the very essence of smooth persuasion. It was as sudden and complete a transformation as she had ever seen. Dag had to admit it; he really was good at this. He started his Falmerblood Elixir spiel again while Dag circled around to stand beside the market’s stone wall.
“Everybody! Everybody! Gather round; I have something amazing to tell you that you simply must hear! No pushing, no shoving, plenty of room.” Dag waited until everyone’s attention was on the big redhead, then eased quietly behind Madesi’s stall, crouched down, and started working on the lock to the stand’s sliding door.
Brand-Shei snorted. “What is it this time, Brynjolf?” So it was Brynjolf, then. Good to know. She worked the lock, desperately hating every second that went by and dreading the loud snap of a broken lockpick. It took her a number of tries, pushing at the pick gently and backing off at the slightest hint of resistance. It was a tough lock, for her, but it finally opened. The strongbox itself was much easier to pick. It opened with a click she was sure the entire city must have heard, but nobody seemed to notice it over Brand-Shei’s complaints.
“Come on, Brynjolf. Last time it was Wisp Essence, and it turned out to be nothing more than crushed nirnroot in water.” Dag scooped Madesi’s ring out of the strongbox and slid the storage door closed, then downed her invisibility potion and crept around to the space behind Brand-Shei’s stall. He was sitting just outside it, but close enough that she would be able to reach him as long as Brynjolf kept him distracted.
“Well that was a simple misunderstanding,” Brynjolf replied smoothly. “This is the genuine article.” On he went, extolling the virtues of his genuine Falmerblood Elixir – just imagine the magical powers the Falmer must have had! All this could be theirs for only twenty septims each — while she held her breath, hoped, and slipped the ring into Brand-Shei’s pocket. The instant it was in she skittered away, outside the stone wall, and stood to take a deep breath and calm her pounding heart. Invisibility potions only worked briefly, and if you touched something the illusion was broken; she’d been more worried about those few moments than anything else about the scheme.
Brynjolf had obviously kept one eye on the whole operation, because as soon as she stood he said “Well, that’s all the time I have for now; I’ll be back tomorrow.” Some smiled and flirted and fluttered at him while he packed away his bottles, and others walked away muttering and shaking their heads.
“What a waste of time,” grumbled Brand-Shei. “I knew I shouldn’t have waited.”
Brynjolf finished stowing his Elixir and then approached her with the barest hint of a grin; no longer the charming salesman but the cold con artist she had spoken to earlier. “Well I guess I picked the right person for the job. And here you go. Your payment, just as I promised.” Sure, she thought sourly. Congratulate yourself, Red; our success was all your doing. Bravo, sir.
“And what made you so sure I could pull that off?” she hissed quietly. “I’m no thief.”
One corner of his mouth twitched upward, his eyes cold. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, lass. I know what I see when I see it, and I saw you.”
She was annoyed at that. Yes, she knew how to do some things, but that was hardly her life’s work. He didn’t even know her. Regardless, though, it was a nice amount of coin he had handed her. It would buy her another night in that room, a fine meal, and enough mead to ease the lingering aches and pains, to say nothing of checking in with Balimund in the morning to see whether he had forged or acquired something better than an iron sword to sell her.
Brynjolf stepped closer to her, a move that had her fighting down the urge to step back. He was too close. Again. “The way things have been going around here, it’s a relief our plan went off without a hitch,” he said quietly.
“Oh really?” That was a surprise. “What’s been going on?”
“Bah.” He frowned slightly and shrugged. “My organization’s been having a run of bad luck, but I guess that’s just the way it goes.” She had to admit, she was curious; not only about what had been going on but why on earth he had just told her this. Before she could form a question, though, he nodded at the coin purse he had just handed her.
“But never mind that. You did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there’s more of that if you think you can handle it. The group I represent has its home in the Ratway, a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Find me there and we’ll discuss your future.”
Thieves Guild, Dag thought, unless there was more than one set of human vermin creeping about in the Ratway. The annoying thing, though, was the idea that he had any business discussing her future. She didn’t know what she had planned, but it definitely hadn’t included needing help to do it.
“Well I’m pretty used to fending for myself,” she said. “Thanks for the job, though. You were wrong about my money, by the way. I did need the coin.” He smirked. Yes, smirked, and then walked away just as the cityguard arrested a loudly protesting Brand-Shei for having the planted ring in his pocket. She felt a bit sorry for having framed Brand-Shei, but only a bit; the situation would work itself out eventually.
Dag wandered around Riften for the rest of the day, spending some quiet moments walking along the roads outside the gate, sipping another Black-Briar mead, enjoying the breeze coming off Lake Honrich. There were prodigious numbers of butterflies and dragonflies along the banks, and the sounds of birds and an occasional wolf off toward the woods. Several good-sized fishing boats were docked near Riften’s piers, farms dotted the roads along both sides of the lake, and there was a large house on an island, connected to the shore by a long stone bridge. It was all very pretty. She hadn’t realized how tense the time since J’hall’s death had made her, and it felt good to recharge.
She headed back toward the inn just before sunset. It was filling up, and noisy. The Argonian woman behind the bar greeted people with “Welcome. If you’ve got the coin, you’ve come to the right place.” Then she turned and bellowed “Talen! Get your lazy tail out here and take care of the customers!” A very green Argonian man wearing a very dirty apron scurried out from a back room. “Keep your scales on,” he muttered, and started taking orders. Dag tried not to snicker as she approached the bar and asked for another night in her room and a couple bottles of ale. “Sure thing. It’s yours for another day,” the Argonian woman said.
Dag felt eyes on her back, and turned to see whose eyes they were.
Brynjolf was leaning against the wall across the room from the bar. Arms folded, he was watching her, frowning. It was creepy, and she’d had enough of him for one day. Dag strode across the room to him, not even bothering to conceal her annoyance.
“I want you to tell me something, Red,” she snapped, “in addition to explaining why exactly you’re watching me whenever I turn around.”
“What did you just call me?” he growled, his green eyes narrowing.
She nodded her head toward his hair. “Red. It was the obvious thing to call you before I overheard your name, don’t you think? You didn’t exactly introduce yourself.”
His eyes flickered for a moment, but he ignored her observation. “Alright, I’ll entertain you a bit more. Go on,” he said, a sarcastic quirk at the corners of his mouth.
Dag did well not to laugh at him. Entertain me? How full of yourself are you? “Why can’t we talk about that other matter right here and now?”
His voice dropped to a pitch only she could pick up in the tavern noise. “The walls have ears, and you’re being tested, lass. We’ll talk in the Ragged Flagon. Come back when you grow a backbone.” He sneered. It was a sneer, no question about it, an unmistakable and infuriating sneer.
It’s really a shame that he’s so big, Dag thought. He would flatten me in two seconds. Fifteen at the outside. Did it not cross his mind that she might have been otherwise occupied during the day? Or that she might not want anything to do with his “organization,” especially if he was in it? Or that she might not feel any burning need to pass his test? She turned away and strode to the stairs, then up to her room.
Dag tried hard to relax. The ale helped a little; but even after feeling sleepy enough to join the bed she tossed and turned, her dreams mostly unformed but all angry. After only two or three hours of unrestful sleep she sighed and gave up. Alright then, she thought. It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going to find a caravan leaving town at the moment. Enough of his attitude; someone is going to see a little backbone right now. She slipped into her boots, grabbed her weapons, and left as quietly as one could over the creaky wooden floors, in search of the rats living in the sewers.