Dag returned to the Guild by way of the Ragged Flagon. All three of them were there: Vex, Delvin, and Brynjolf. Vex and Delvin each rewarded her with a hefty amount of coin, and Delvin was delighted to purchase the map she’d brought back from the Warehouse. Each of them gave her a minor task to do, both in the city of Markarth. She had grimaced a bit at that. She was familiar with Markarth from her travel with J’Hall. It wasn’t as cold as Windhelm by a fair stretch but it was equally hard and unwelcoming. Still, coin was coin. Tonilia took the jewels from the Warehouse, all of the ingredients and some of the potions she’d stolen that she would never use herself, and for a goodly price.
As usual, she felt eyes following her around the tavern. She didn’t bother to turn around to look. She didn’t want to be annoyed as soon as she saw his face.
Dag found a quiet corner in one of the unused alcoves and sat down on a chest, pulling out coinpurse after coinpurse from her pack and counting the take. She had enough. She could buy the house. She was just about to rush out of the Flagon to do so when a thought stopped her cold. This purchase had implications besides just being able to sleep somewhere dry and clean.
She sighed, rose, and found Brynjolf among the people in the Flagon.
“Hello, lass. I see you’re back.”
Of course you see that I’m back, she grumped to herself. You’ve been watching me ever since I set foot in here.
“Yes, and you should be pleased. You were absolutely right about the goods. There should be a nice payment from Gulum-Ei arriving soon. I told him that Mercer was getting cranky and so was I, and he seemed quite impressed by that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up, and his eyes took on a bit of that mischievous twinkle she’d seen before. “Well done. You should get over to Mercer right away, then.”
“In a second. I need some advice.”
Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. “Alright. What can I do for you?”
“Before you brought me into the Guild I did a few things to help out some folks here in town and in the hold, and did a job for the Jarl as well. She’s offered me the chance to buy a house, and I really want it. But there’s a catch.”
“Of course. There’s always a catch. What is it?”
“She’s going to make me a Thane. I want to know what you think about that. Is it going to be a problem?”
Brynjolf stared at her. “Well, well, lass. You are an enterprising thing, aren’t you? Would you really turn it down if I say so?”
“Well of course I would. You know the situation much better than I do.”
He stroked his beard, thinking, looking her over with an expression she couldn’t read. Then he shook his head.
Aw, damn, Dag thought. He’s going to shut me down. Well, I did bring it on myself.
“Very smart of you to ask first. I appreciate that. But I think you should do it. Having both you and Maven as part of the Jarl’s court could work to our advantage. I would keep it quiet, though. Word is bound to get around fast, but if you don’t flaunt your new title it will be easier for you to use it later.”
Dag smiled. It was good to know that they’d been thinking along the same lines about this development. That seemed to happen fairly frequently. It was a little unsettling.
“Thanks, Brynjolf. I had the same impression but I’m still just learning the area. And this whole operation,” she said, waving her hand around the Flagon. “I can’t quite believe I’m going to have my own place. After all of these years. It’s a bit overwhelming, in a good way.”
“The accommodations of the Cistern don’t suit you. That’s been quite clear from the beginning,” he said, smirking. “Cobwebs and grunge.”
Dag felt her face go hot and was happy that they were in the dark. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Now get going,” he said, with the smallest hint of a smile.
“Ok, Red,” Dag said, moving briskly away from him and not being able to suppress a snicker this time. She heard a disgusted harumph behind her as she turned into the storage cabinet door.
Mercer Frey was pacing behind his desk. He looked up as she approached, and frowned. Ah yes, Dag thought. Nice to see you again, too, Skeever-Face. He didn’t so much as greet her, just began to speak without any preamble.
“Did Gulum-ei give up any information on our buyer?”
“Yes, he said it was a woman named Karliah.”
Dag couldn’t believe what she saw.
Mercer’s eyes opened wide, his eyebrows rose, and his mouth opened.
“No.”
There was a long pause. It was clear that this news had utterly scattered his thoughts and he needed a moment to collect them again.
“I haven’t heard that name in decades. This is grave news indeed; she is someone I had hoped never to cross paths with again.”
There was a look on Mercer’s face that Dag had never seen and could not interpret. Pain? Shock? It was something real, something that wasn’t his usual presentation of snide superiority. It only lasted for just a moment, though; his frown and his usual expression dropped across his face like a door being slammed shut. He stared at Dag, his eyes demanding her total attention.
“Karliah destroyed everything this Guild stood for. She murdered my predecessor in cold blood, and betrayed the Guild. Once we discovered what she’d done we spent months trying to track her down, but she just vanished.”
That matched what Gulum-Ei had told Dag. So a murderer was targeting the Guild. Dag felt herself getting upset. Mercer wasn’t exactly a warm and cuddly man but she did like the other people in the Guild, and he was the Guildmaster, and she was not going to let something happen to him. Or Brynjolf. Or any of the others. I can at least try to do that much, Dag thought. But first I need to know more.
“So why is this such a problem, aside from what she’s done in the past? She’s just one woman, and everyone knows she is to be avoided.”
Mercer’s response startled Dag again. His eyes took on an aspect of regret and his voice softened, almost as though speaking to himself.
“We were like partners. She was … the best. I went with her on every heist. We watched each other’s backs. I know her techniques, her skills.”
Then, just as suddenly as before, the mask of anger dropped across his face again.
“If she kills me, there will be no one left who can possibly catch her. If we only knew where she was.”
Damn, Dag thought. This was so unlike the Skeever she’d seen on every other occasion. This was real, she was certain of it. No wonder everyone here seemed to have chips on their shoulders. The previous Guildmaster must have been an exceptional person; even Mercer was angry about his death. She was beginning to be angry, too. It was clearly time to track this woman down and dispose of her.
“Gulum-Ei didn’t know where she went, but she did tell him that she would be ‘where the end began.’”
Mercer’s eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath. “There’s only one place that could be – the place where she murdered Gallus. It’s an old Nordic ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum.”
He pondered for a moment, then again gave Dag that intense stare that seized her attention. “We have to go there and stop her before she can kill again.”
Dag almost jumped. “We?” She had expected him to send her off again, errand girl that she was. He nodded.
“Yes, I’m going with you, and together we are going to kill her. Prepare yourself and meet me at the ruin. We can’t let her slip through our fingers.”
Dag nodded and walked slowly away, toward the other side of the Cistern, where everyone else was congregated. It was more than a bit unsettling that she, a rank beginner, was going to be taking on a job with the Guildmaster himself. Then she stopped to consider things. She had, after all, just handled several tasks for the Guild that had turned out to be quite important. And she’d managed a couple of minor jobs as well. Guess I’m not really a rank beginner anymore, she thought. Prepare myself. What should I do to prepare myself, I wonder. Rest, I think. At least for a few hours. I won’t be any use to anyone if I’m so tired that my reflexes start to go.
She slowed her pace as she neared the alcove holding the exit. She wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. She wanted to be with her people for awhile. She wasn’t specifically listening to the conversations, but one intruded on her thoughts.
“If things don’t improve pretty soon I might have to find work somewhere else.”
“I may still have some contacts back in Valenwood who could find work for us. If all else fails I can get in touch with my idiot brother. Word on the street is that he’s made some — connections in Skyrim. You’re welcome to join me.” That was Niruin, the archer.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She stood there out of the way, quietly observing for awhile, until something dawned on her. Brynjolf was moving around the periphery of the room, and the other thieves seemed to follow him at a discreet distance, gravitating to where ever he was, joking with him when he was close enough and would allow it, and he seemed to have an easy relationship with all of them. But as he approached Mercer, who was pacing behind his desk, they all returned to the side of the room she was on. It was the oddest thing, and she wasn’t sure what she was seeing, but nobody would approach Mercer except Brynjolf.
Brynjolf had moved closer to where Dag was standing when Delvin approached him.
“Tell me you have good news,” Brynjolf said.
Delvin grimaced. “If I told you that, I’d be lying. The clients are starting to get nervous. We haven’t had a nibble in weeks.”
Brynjolf looked furious. “You tell this sorry bunch of thieves they need to put their flagons down and get to work if they want to keep their status.”
Delvin nodded. “I will. I will,” and walked away back toward the Ragged Flagon. So Delvin and Vex doled out the jobs to everyone, not just to her. Is that why was she getting so many of them? The others weren’t pulling their weight?
Vipir and Thrynn walked over to her and started chatting. Flirting, really, or at least Vipir was; he clearly thought himself a great lover based on some of the chat she’d heard around the place. Dag just smiled at him and tried not to laugh. He was a reasonably good-looking man, but he was not at all her type. Thrynn, though: Thrynn was drop-dead gorgeous to her eye and under different circumstances she would have been intrigued by his stories of having enjoyed all the women he could bed. Maybe someday she would feel like thinking about another relationship; if she did, she might well start with him.
“You know that story you told me, about leaving the bandits?”
“Yeah,” he said, in his raspy voice.
“What ever happened to the bandit leader?”
Thrynn grimaced. “I left his head on a pike.”
“Wow,” Dag said. She nodded, and reached out to pat his arm. “I’m sorry to say that I understand the feeling, though.” She did, too, although from the viewpoint of the bandits’ victims. It was sobering to realize that the pain went both ways. Nobody won playing that little game.
She blinked, feeling eyes on her again. Brynjolf had wandered over and was standing near them, listening and trying not to look obvious about doing so.
It was nothing if not exasperating. Why was it that she couldn’t even have a conversation with her guildmates without him hovering about like a fly? She approached him, intending to call him out on it. He shook his head and walked away.
“Not now, lass. I have important things to do.”
And then he circled halfway around the Cistern and sat down at the edge of the pool.
She stood there, stunned. Important things? Sitting prevents you from talking to me? It also hurt a little, if she was truthful about it. Having someone just turn and walk away from you stung. Especially when it was someone who usually seemed to make time for you no matter what else was going on and no matter how lowly you were in comparison to him. Especially when you wanted to – well, what had she wanted to do, anyway? She’d been about to chew him out for pestering her. She frowned and gnawed the inside of her mouth while she watched him sit there, alone.
But, she realized as she watched him, he indeed seemed troubled, deep in thought. He might well be distressed and angry about Karliah, or remembering Gallus, perhaps. Maybe he was angry with her, that she had known about Karliah before he did; he was the Guild second, after all. That didn’t seem likely, but his saying “not now” hadn’t seemed likely, either. He also looked terribly tired. I wonder if he ever sleeps, Dag thought. He stood and approached Mercer again; she could hear the low rumble of their conversation but couldn’t pick out the words.
I’m not proud of myself, she thought, but I have got to know what they’re talking about. She spied Rune puttering about near enough to them that it might be within earshot, and wandered as nonchalantly as she could over to him. Gods. I hope I’m not being too obvious.
Rune was one of the sweetest men she’d ever met; thievery seemed an incongruous thing for him to be doing with his life. He smiled at her and asked, “Is there something special, or do you just want to talk? I’m happy to listen.”
What can I ask him about? Snow Veil Sanctum. Where is it, does he know anything about the area. That will work. And she did so, and he started speaking, but she heard exactly nothing that he told her. What she heard instead was Mercer speaking to Brynjolf.
“Brynjolf, have you taken care of that little issue?”
“Mmm hmm. Seems they no longer wish to be part of our operation.”
“I trust you applied the appropriate pressure?”
“Yes, of course I did. I’m afraid we may have to turn this one over to the Dark Brotherhood.” Brynjolf sounded cold, hard, with that edge in his voice that she’d heard before that sent chills down her spine.
It reminded her that this was not, in any sense, a nice man. He treated her well, most of the time, and had laughed with her, and that made it easy for her to forget who, and what, he really was. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Is this what had happened to her, out on the road? Had someone from the Guild sent the assassin after her? No, it couldn’t be. Why would they have done that? She’d barely done a single job for them at that point. It made no sense.
But they would, if they had to. Brynjolf would do it at Mercer’s direction. It left her with a weight in her stomach that she could not explain. Perhaps it had been a good thing after all that Roggi had left her; it seemed abundantly clear that one did not simply walk away from an association with the Thieves Guild. That fear had occurred to her before her trip to Solitude; now she knew it to have been justified.
She listened to Rune for a few more minutes and then thanked him for the information, hoping that she’d absorbed any of it at all. She walked toward the sarcophagus exit and then looked back, stopped cold by a sudden realization. By all the gods, she thought. I just did to Brynjolf exactly what I was angry about him doing to me. I stood and stared at him and watched him and then followed him around the Cistern and eavesdropped on him. What was I thinking?
What is the matter with me?
Brynjolf was sitting beside the pool again. She was just about to leave when he looked up, looked straight at her and stared for several moments. He wasn’t just looking in her direction, he was looking at her, and it was direct and uncomfortable and completely undecipherable. Dag had no idea what was happening, but she refused to look away first. He finally dropped his eyes back to the pool.
What is this little dance we’re doing, anyway?
She had half expected a sarcastic answer from her other voice, but none came. Dag shook her head and left.
There was one specific thing that Dag needed to do before she left for Snow Veil Sanctum, and she intended to do it right then. She needed a night alone, to think, in a quiet place, and there was just such a place waiting for her. She left via the sarcophagus, walking over to the shrine of Talos.
“Hi, Talos,” she murmured. “I don’t know if you’re really a god or not, but I’m willing to take a blessing if you have one to give, regardless.” She touched the shrine and smiled as the warmth spread through her. “Thank you,” she said. Then she walked around the corner and mounted the stairs to Mistveil Keep.
The Jarl’s steward was the Bosmer woman she’d seen there before, Anuriel. Anuriel gave her an odd look as she approached, seeming to scan her quickly before smiling and asking what, in her limited power, she might do to help Dag.
She recognizes the Thieves Guild armor, Dag thought. Interesting.
“I understand from the Jarl that you can sell me a home in the city,” Dag said. “I’d very much like to buy it.”
“Splendid!” Anuriel said. She didn’t look as if she thought it was splendid, to Dag’s eye, but she had no problem in collecting the significant amount of coin and handing the key to the house over to her. It was the house Dag had expected, and it was called Honeyside. Dag thanked her and then approached the Jarl.
“I wondered when we might see you again,” Laila said with a smile.
“I’ve purchased Honeyside,” Dag said. And I’m ready to go flop in it and sleep for a hundred years, if we can move this along.
“Then by my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of the Rift, with all the rights and privileges associated with that posiiton,” she said, chuckling. “Please accept this as your badge of office.” She handed Dag a gleaming sword.
Dag’s mouth fell open again, for just a moment. A sword? A sword in addition to a house? It looked like a nice sword, too, although she was not about to use it instead of her scimitars. Still, maybe she could display it somehow.
The Jarl also intended to assign a housecarl to Dag, to live in the home and care for it when she was away. The idea made her terribly uncomfortable. She wanted this to be her own private place, and did her best to decline the offer as gracefully as she could. To her relief, Laila agreed, especially when Dag pointed out that the woman in question, Iona, could now be reassigned to her guard.
“Thank you, my Jarl,” Dag said, without any hesitation this time. “I hope that I will be worthy of your trust.”
Dag turned and walked back through the hall. Did I just say that and mean it? she wondered. You did, and you are still and always have been an idiot, her sarcastic voice answered.
She opened the door to Honeyside and couldn’t suppress a gasp.
It wasn’t a large house, and it certainly wasn’t opulent. It had a sagging roof line that would have to be repaired some day. But inside it was warm, and cozy. Just through the door was a well laid-out kitchen and a table, with a fireplace on one side of the room and a baker’s oven on the other. Past the kitchen was an alchemy station, displays for armor and weaponry – the perfect place for the Blade of the Rift — and a great many bookshelves, as well as potted plants carefully positioned to take best advantage of the sun filtering in through high windows.
Going down the stairs was like entering another world. It had been dug into the banks of Riften so as to comprise at least as much space as the upstairs did, if not more. The area at the bottom of the stairs had pedestals for trophies, if she ever wanted to have such a thing. There were two bedrooms: a small one that had undoubtedly been meant for the housecarl, and a large, handsome room with a double bed, several clothes cabinets, and a lovely desk. A spacious area around the corner from the main bedroom held a full enchanter’s setup. Dag really didn’t know anything about enchanting, but if she ever got time to learn she now had the facilities to do so without any clumsy learning efforts being watched. There was a full smithy; it was on a smaller scale than Balimund’s operation but had all the essential pieces. Best of all, it warmed the entire area. If not for needing a cooking fire she almost could have done without the fireplace on the main level.
Walking through the landing area, she saw motion out of the corner of her eye. There were two old Riften banners hanging side by side next to the smithy doorway, and they were waving just slightly. She walked over to them and felt moving air, then parted them.
Behind the banners was a tub. A deep, steaming tub, with stone seats around the perimeter, plants growing on the walls above and beside, and shelves for storing clothing and towels at the entrance. Dag made a sound that was just shy of a squeal, and began peeling off her armor. It was only a few moments before she was sitting up to her neck in the very warm water heated by the forge in the next room.
“This is mine,” she murmured. “My very own place.” For the first time since her parents had been killed, she had a permanent home to call her own.
And yes, she was warm.
