Nobody ever paid attention to Galathil, except to disparage her occupation, cast doubt on her skills, and pretend they didn’t notice when she took on a job. She sat in a corner in the Ragged Flagon, all the time, quietly reading or talking to anyone who happened to come nearby. But for the people who agreed to pay her hefty fee, their lives changed forever. Some of them became beautiful when they had previously been plain or even ugly. Some of them did the opposite, either out of spite or in order to get away from bad situations. And in the Thieves Guild there was an unspoken agreement that nobody bothered Galathil; they made certain of it, and she repaid their protection by assisting them if someone needed to look different to escape scrutiny, or simply to escape.
Because they were so accustomed to leaving her alone all the time, nobody really paid attention to her quiet presence unless she spoke up. And because of that, nobody really noticed the man wearing black leathers who slipped up behind her in the middle of a long night when most of the Guild had retired.
There were a number of people in the Guild who wore black leathers; he looked like someone who belonged there aside from the hood he wore, a hood that completely hid his face. The man leaned over and murmured in her ear, his voice friendly, warm and mellow like honey.
“Hello, Galathil. Don’t turn around; just listen carefully. You’re going to stand up and very calmly walk to the Ratway, and I am going to be a couple of paces behind you. You will not try to escape, because I am every bit as good with a blade as you are, except that mine are larger and meant for less… delicate operations than yours. I have one in my hand right now. You feel it pressed up against your ribs, yes?”
Galathil, to her credit, never flinched or twitched, didn’t cry out. She merely nodded.
“Good. We’re going to make our way to Riftweald Manor and slip into the back yard. I’ve already unlocked the door. And when we get inside we’re going to talk. Understand?”
She nodded again and rose, as calm and elegant a woman as ever was. She walked slowly and quietly to the doorway and paused, waiting for the man who had given her the orders. He slipped into place behind her and pushed the door open.
“Let’s not waste any time,” he murmured.
“You’re not going to get away with this, you know,” she said quietly as they entered the narrow tunnels of the Ratway. “I know everyone who comes and goes through the Ragged Flagon.”
“I’m certain that you do,” the man chuckled. “I’ve seen how observant you are. But you see, so am I, and I know my business just as well as you know yours. I’ve been doing it for a very long time. I wouldn’t be speaking to you if I had any doubts. Now,” he said, his voice dropping and his hand pressing close to her, “let’s go.”
She gasped as his knife pressed its sharp way through the fabric of her robe and bit into her skin. She nodded quietly, and made her way through the Ratway to its exit.
Nobody saw them emerge from the gated entry into the darkness of Riften’s lower level, and nobody paid attention to a couple making their way up the stairs and walking briskly down the street. Nobody noticed two quiet people slipping into the alley behind Riften’s row of prominent homes, and nobody saw them enter the vacant mansion.
The long table was still where it had been when Dagnell had snatched a sweet roll from it so long before, the dust on it grown thick over time. There was still a disturbing, dark red spot on the floor just under one of the chairs. The man flipped the chair around, placed it carefully so as to afford the best view of the stain, said “Sit,” and waited until Galathil took the seat.
“You know that I am paid to be discreet,” she said. “I can’t tell you anything about my clients. Surely you are aware of that.”
And then the man turned to face her.
Her eyes widened, and her grey skin blanched.
He chuckled.
“You were expecting a face, perhaps? Eyes, nose, something you could remember for later? One of those people you’ve seen in the Flagon? Something to tell, say, Brynjolf or Delvin Mallory? No, Galathil. This is what you get.”
The black hood he wore completely obliterated all traces of his face. In the right light it seemed almost hollow, as though there was nothing whatsoever inside it. It was terrifying.
The man reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a neatly folded leather package. He untied the lacings that held it shut and flipped it open, laying it out on the table before him. Galathil glanced at its contents and shuddered.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Which one should we begin with? One of these, perhaps?” He slid a small set of pincers out of its compartment and grasped it in his large, calloused hand. “They do a wonderful job on fingernails, especially nice long ones like yours. More to grab onto, don’t you know. I’ll make it quick. I’m very strong.”
She closed her eyes, shuddered, and took a deep breath. “I…”
He chuckled.
“If you’d prefer I could use them to crush the fingers instead but I would assume that an artist such as yourself would like her tools to remain in top condition. As do I. Fingernails grow back. Crushed bones, well…”
She sighed, and was silent for a long, tense moment. Then she nodded.
“Who is it that you are looking for?”
The man knelt down before her and raised her hands in his, almost tenderly. He tipped his faceless head up to look at hers.
“Dagnell. The Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild.”
“I don’t …”
He shook his head and grasped the fingernail of her right index finger firmly with the pincers, then began to apply pressure, slowly. It took only a moment before she gasped.
“Stop! I’ll tell you. Don’t harm my hands. Please.”
He released her fingernail, and her hands, and she crossed her arms and tucked them under her sleeves protectively. The man rose to perch on the edge of the table.
“Talk.”
And she began to talk.
______
Andante was sitting at the table in Honeyside, reading, when there was a quiet knock on the door.
Hmm, I wasn’t expecting company tonight. I wasn’t even expecting Brynjolf tonight. Who…
He rose and quickly went to the door, cracking it open just a bit before gasping in surprise.
“Roggi?”
Roggi was looking all around him, as if he feared someone was watching.
“Can I come in? Quickly? I need to get out of sight and then I need to be on my way. But first I need to talk to you.”
What in Oblivion?
“Well yes, yes of course. Excuse my inelegance. Come in.” He opened the door and stepped back, only to have Roggi nearly push him aside.
“Sorry to be so insistent, Andante. Are you alone?” His arms were full of something dark and his voice was full of tension.
“Yes, I am. Brynjolf is at the Guild tonight.”
Roggi raised an eyebrow. “Would he be anywhere else?”
Oh yes. I haven’t seen him in some time.
He chuckled. “Yes. He would be here. With me. For some little while now. I forgot that you didn’t know.”
“Oh?”
Roggi met his eyes directly for the first time since he’d opened the door. His mouth dropped open. He gasped, and dropped a pile of dark leather onto the floor.
Roggi pulled out a chair and sat down, hard.
Roggi was a very pale man to begin with, but Andante was alarmed by the ashen shade he’d taken on. He reached out to touch Roggi’s shoulder, but Roggi pulled back, looking nearly terrified.
“What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“Ah… Andante.”
“Yes?”
“Your eyes.”
Shit. No illusion. Of all the stupid things to forget to do. And I’m the one who’s always nagging Brynjolf about it.
“Gods damn it. I’m so sorry, Roggi. I would not have had you learn this particular thing about me like this, if at all.”
“By Ysmir, Andante. That’s terrifying!” Roggi’s eyes were wide. He leaned in a little closer. “Wow. Please don’t, uh…”
Andante shook his head and slid into the chair across from Roggi. “No need to be concerned. I’m well-fed and besides, you’re practically family now. But I trust you understand that you shouldn’t exhibit the usual reaction I get from hearty Nords. ‘Kill the vampire’ is not a very safe thing to shout in this household.” He cast his illusion spell and could feel Roggi’s heart rate return to normal as his own eyes turned from yellow back to blue.
I’m in no danger but he is, if he tries anything. But I can’t harm him. I simply can’t. He’s related to Brynjolf.
There was a long silence. He waited, not daring to speak, while Roggi stared at him, looked him over, and evaluated him. He could see how talented Roggi truly was at observing and judging, could almost read the thoughts going through his head. Finally, Roggi nodded, and gave him a lopsided smile.
“I wouldn’t think of it. So long as you keep your fangs away from my neck, that is.”
“Well then we’ve come to an agreement. Could I get you anything?”
Roggi nodded. “Yes, if you have some mead, that would be great. I’m feeling a bit unsettled.”
Andante went to the cupboard where he kept beverages and pulled out a bottle of Black-Briar Reserve, the best he had in the house aside from his favorite Colovian brandy. He handed it to Roggi and watched in amusement as he half-emptied it in the space of a few seconds.
“Thank you, Andante. I … imagine that you can understand why I’m a little rattled. And you say that you two are…”
Andante sat back down, chuckling.
“Yes indeed. It wasn’t too terribly long after you and Dardeh got married, actually. He’s very persuasive when he makes up his mind about a thing.”
Roggi’s eyebrows rose again. “He’s the persuasive one? Is that so? Well, now. Dar and I turned that possibility over. We both thought that you hoped for such a thing to happen, but I didn’t really think it would come to pass.”
“Yes it is so, and has come to pass.” He couldn’t suppress a grin of satisfaction. I wonder what I looked like just then. The cat who got the cream, no doubt. He chuckled. “So what brings you here? News, I would assume?”
Roggi nodded. “Yes. News, and I need to return these.” He picked the pile of black leather up off the floor and put it onto an empty chair. “I, uh, needed some camouflage. Found a couple of pieces of Brynjolf’s older leathers in his chest down in the Cistern way back when Dag first left but I didn’t want to risk going in to put them back. We’re pretty much the same size. Nobody gave me a second glance. I was hoping you could return them for me.”
“Hah. Clever. And for whatever purpose a set of old Guild armor gave you camouflage, you hid that very blonde hair with…”
Roggi chuckled. “This.” He held up a piece of dark cloth. “I came by this a couple of years ago out in Markarth. It’s a pretty amazing hood, truthfully. Watch.” He slipped it over his head and looked at Andante.
His face. It’s gone. There are no eyes. That is terrifying.
Suddenly his head felt as though it was being squeezed, in a giant vise, and he was afraid he might pass out. He put his head down between his knees, sucking air, trying to get his equilibrium back.
That is why he wears the mask. To be terrifying.
That phrase echoed through his head, as though he had heard it before. That is exactly why I wear the mask.
What is this? What is happening?
For just a fraction of a second the pressure in his head changed in his mind, to a clear vision of the hood sliding over his own head. He felt as though he was suffocating.
“Andante? Are you all right? What’s wrong?” Roggi’s voice seemed to come from far away, and was tinny, as if he was speaking under water.
Breathe. Breathe.
I… think that I… remember something…
He shook his head, and slowly sat upright. Roggi had taken the hood off and was sitting well forward on his chair, ready to jump if he was needed, his expression full of concern. Andante felt the blood returning to his head.
“By the Eight that was odd,” he said, trying to make light of it. “My turn to have a bit of a spell, it seems.”
“Odd is an understatement. Are you sure you’re going to be ok?”
Andante nodded, slowly. “Yes, I think so. Let me see that for a moment?”
Roggi handed him the hood, and he ran it through his fingers, staring at it, feeling it. It felt familiar to him. His fingers ran along its bottom edges to the seams at the side, unerringly, knowing just when to stop so as to open it to its widest, so that a person could simply flip it up onto his head and…
“Yes, it’s terrifying. You really didn’t need to prove it to me,” Roggi chuckled, and Andante startled, realizing that he had actually put the hood on as if he belonged in it.
He snatched it off his head and handed it back.
“Well, I don’t quite know what’s gotten into me aside from very poor manners. Let me see if I might collect myself. Why is it that you had this with you?” He sat, rigid, fighting to control the trembling that was trying to take him over.
I remember that hood. But I don’t remember why.
Roggi nodded. “I got the hood a couple of years ago, in Markarth. I’m… well, I’m not officially gathering information for anyone, any more, but I do like to keep my ears open and sometimes the best way to do that is to buy a few carriage rides. It’s all but impossible to get into the Thalmor Embassy. Dar’s been there, but a fellow like me? Never. Not even when I was working for Ulfric. Next best thing? The outpost in Solitude, or the one in Markarth.”
He smiled, almost to himself. “I’m actually a little surprised I never ran into Dardeh there. Oh who am I kidding; I might have and not even noticed him. There are so many miners there. At any rate, it seems that if you’re an official ‘guest’ of the Thalmor some of your personal effects might well end up there, in that room.” He looked up and saw Andante staring at him, and his words dribbled off into nothing.
“You know, I still can’t quite get used to the idea of you being in this line of work, Roggi. You seem much too…”
“Ordinary?”
“That’s a way to put it, yes.”
“That’s the point. At any rate, I saw it in the chest and helped myself. I thought it would come in handy some day if I needed to make absolutely sure someone couldn’t identify me, and how much better to do that than to have your whole head just disappear, yes?”
Yes.
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about this ever since we all met here. I know that Brynjolf and Delvin didn’t want her pressured but the last hint we had was…”
“Galathil.”
“Yes. And I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since. It’s just been gnawing at me. I would assume you have some degree of skill in this area but it was my specialty, and, well, I told Dar I needed to visit Kynesgrove for a couple of days. I do, but I haven’t been there yet.” He shook his head and looked down, then muttered. “Some one of these days I’ll learn how to tell a person the whole truth but apparently that day hasn’t yet arrived.” He frowned, then looked back up at Andante.
“Well, it seems that the rumor was correct. I visited her this evening, and helped persuade her that she should tell me what had happened. She was surprisingly easy to convince. Didn’t have to do much more than show her the toolkit.” He chuckled. “Just as well. I’m very out of practice. I expect this will have been my last job. At any rate, she admitted that she changed Dagnell’s face, just before she disappeared.”
“Not very long after I joined the Guild and just about the time I turned,” Andante murmured.
Roggi stared at him in silence for a few more moments, clearly deep in thought.
“About all of that.”
“Yes?”
“You said that you and Bryn are together. So, um, does that mean that Brynjolf also…”
It’s not really my place to say, but I don’t know how I can weasel out of it.
“Is a vampire? Yes, Roggi. Recently. He’s…” He turned to look at the fire. He’s amazing. He’s stronger than you could imagine. And he’ll never be mine, no matter how much I desire it.
“He’s very strong. And I am very…”
He turned to look at Roggi again and couldn’t quite fathom what he was seeing on the man’s face. Roggi sighed.
“You’re very what?”
“Fortunate.”
He nodded. “I was afraid that’s what you were going to say. We’re all good at reading other people around here. I can hear the sound of a man in love, even if he’s a vampire.” He stood and paced the floor, and blew out a breath. “But I still have to help him find Dag, Andante. It doesn’t matter what’s going on with the two of you right now. It might matter, that you’re both… well. It might not. I don’t know. But I do know that he still wants her found. He still…”
I know. I know.
“Yes. I know. I have to help him, too.” It’ll be the hardest thing I’ve ever done but I have to help find her, too. For him. He grimaced as he found himself chewing on the inside of his own mouth. “So where do we start?”
“Apparently Galathil removed her scar, changed her eye color to a much lighter green, evened out some of her features. And something else.”
“Yes?”
“Changed her voice. Deepened it. She told me it’s a delicate – and expensive – procedure but a few carefully wielded needles to the voice box, well … scars leave their mark inside as well as outside. She told me that Dag’s voice is rather husky now.”
Andante’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Roggi. It couldn’t be, could it? Light green eyes. Husky voice. “And she hates skooma,” he murmured.
Roggi’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, how did you know that?”
“Brynjolf. Tell me, was she very good at being a thief, Roggi? Good at killing things?”
Roggi frowned. “I never watched her work after the first few weeks she was in the Guild. We had a bit of a falling-out. But yes, when I was travelling with her she was very good at it.”
Andante sighed. And the skooma. There are too many coincidences. How can I find out for certain?
“I might have a lead to follow. But tell me, what could I use? Is there something in particular about Dagnell that not everyone knows?”
Roggi furrowed his brow and started telling Andante everything he could think of about Dagnell. When he’d finished, he slipped out to find a carriage to Windhelm.
“Do me a favor, Andante. Don’t mention this to anyone. Dar’s going to be furious with me if he finds out what I did and I don’t even want to look Bryn in the eyes. I’ll be back home if you need me. Let’s not involve Delvin yet, until we have something solid.”
Andante nodded and stood in the door, watching him slip through the shadows toward the north gate. Then he closed the door and made his way to the bath, stopping in the bedroom to shed his clothes and scoop a bottle of skooma out of his side table on the way by. As he slid into the welcome warmth he frowned.
If I am right, I am in the worst position I could possibly occupy.
Right between them.
I don’t know whether I have it in me to let him know. And I’m not close enough to her to wheedle her out of the truth. She’s the best.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, thoughts rushing through him without destination, until suddenly they came back to the hood. Unbidden, his mind presented him with a vision, a flash of memory, an older woman with a terrified look on her face just before she died.
The best of the best.
He sat bolt upright, shaking.
By all the gods. That was me.