"You look like a man who appreciates the taste of high quality meat!" A shopkeeper shouted, flinging his meat in my face. "Smells good, yes?" He shouted again this time practically shoving the meat into my mouth. I flicked an ear out of disinterest and dragged my tongue slowly over my teeth,
"Smells great." I muttered and the shopkeeper laughed heartily and clapped me on the back. "—for the dump." I finished with a menacingly low growl. The merchant stumbled back a few steps and licked his lips nervously,
"I-I'm, it's fresh I don't understand…" He trailed off but with a casual flick of my tail I sauntered away, the irritation already forgotten. I'd been in Markarth several times before and each time the small city proved to offer nothing new or even remotely exciting. The same bedlam jobs, the same faces, and of course let's not forget the monotonous hostility. But the hostility was hardly anything new. It was so normal to be scoffed at and shunned I'd taken it upon myself to look as unapproachable as possible, at least now they had the sense to keep their mouths shut. Being told to "keep my hands to myself" was becoming somewhat of an annoyance. But I wasn't here to complain, I came to fulfill my role as a stereotypical Khajiit: steal anything and everything of value.
I'd barely taken four steps outside the central market when something caught my attention: A Nord man dressed in the robes of a disciple of Stendarr waving his arms seemingly at me. I narrowed my eyes and pinned my ears flat against my skull, clearly sending a negative message. My different colored eyes generally served me well in avoiding social situations and an openly angry stance such as this was usually enough to send most Nords and…others, scurrying away to safety but this one either had a death wish or was particularly desperate.
"I could use your help!" He hissed, beckoning me toward him. I was inclined to ignore him and pick his pockets just for the hell of it but his persistence was amusing. I relaxed and made my way towards him, taking my sweet, sweet time. "Please, hurry!" He growled urgently and upon reaching him, he scrutinized me carefully, noting my odd colored eyes and general dark demeanor. "You'll do, you'll do…" He muttered to himself and I shifted my ears forward, capturing his words and making my own discreet observations. His heart was beating at an abnormally fast rate and his eyes shifted constantly, never staying in one place for long. Both signs of apprehension, maybe fear. I watched him with interest as he composed himself with a deep breath and straightened to his full height which, unfortunately for him, was still shorter than me.
"Well?" I growled coolly, crossing my arms over my chest. The Nord cleared his throat and with his fingers, beckoned me toward a house a little further down the road.
"I'm a disciple of—"
"Stendarr. I know." I finished for him, nodding at his robes. He rolled his eyes sheepishly and decided it was best to skip the petty introductions which was good. I hated wasting my time.
"The name's Tyranus and there's suspected daedric activity in this house and…" He faltered towards the end, probably out of embarrassment. A Nord's sense of pride was a degree or two past ridiculous.
"And you need help?" I asked with the barest hint of a smirk. We both knew the answer to his question but it was one thing to give help and another to be asked for it.
"Will you…?" Tyranus gave me a hopeful glance and I shrugged easily. I wasn't one to pass up opportunities, no matter how strange or potentially dangerous. I gestured with an arm toward the door,
"Lead the way." I murmured and the disciple stiffened slightly before taking the lead. If he thought I was going to put my life on the line for a stranger, a Nord stranger, no less, then he was oh so very wrong.
It was dark inside, pitch black was more accurate. At least it was for the Nord. Khajiit weren't strangers to darkness.
"Can't find the damn torch…" He muttered to himself and I shook my head,
"Humans…" I whispered to myself before supplying him with a torch and before he even knew what he was holding, I'd already lit it and moved on ahead. "Wait, you don't know what we're dealing with!" Tyranus hissed worriedly and I lazily flicked my ears back and forth. Fine, if he wanted to go in front then I wasn't about to stop him. I waited for him to slowly stalk past, torch held out in front of him and beads of sweat already lining his forehead. It was all I could do to snatch the torch from him and leave him behind in the darkness. Aside from the millions of things that annoyed me, slowness was definitely one of the top five. A low tremor shook the floor beneath us and shelves crashed to the floor on either side of us and out of force of habit, I dropped low and crouched on the floor, poised to pounce. Tyranus seemed badly shaken and had gone so far as to drop the torch, thank the Eight Markarth was 99% stone. The shaking persisted and even intensified, buckets and chairs rolled to and fro and loose stones tumbled to the ground missing us by mere inches. "This is no mere daedra! Get out!" Tyranus shouted, doubling back without even bothering to wait for me. And I'd thought we'd bonded. "The door's stuck!" He shouted again and I pinned my ears back and bared my teeth, his screams plus all this noise was enough to make me claw my own eyes out.
"Weak. He's Weak. You're strong. Crush him." Came a thundering voice that shook me to my core and rattled my bones and it was then that I was reacquainted with an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time: fear. Furniture began rising in the air and I bolted to my feet and looked for any possible means of escape. I could still hear Tyranus banging his fist against the door and shouting for help but the truth was we both knew better, nobody would hear him. "No. Kill him. Crush his bones. Tear at his flesh. You will kill. You will kill, or you will die!" The voice came again and my blood ran cold in my veins. I was suddenly aware that Tyranus had stopped his banging and even his screams had ceased, the disciple actually stood just feet away from me with his sword in hand and his face set with determination. His eyes gave me a silent apology as he came at me but it really should've been I who apologized. I twisted lithely away from Tyranus' blade and rolled across the stone floor and easily sprang to my feet and sank my twin blades into Tyranus' back and twisted with finality. He didn't even have time to scream and I watched the fire die in his eyes. Part of me felt smug, he deserved to die, but still part of me felt pity. He'd chosen the wrong person as a helper. "Yes. Your reward is waiting for you, mortal. Further down." Came the same voice as I wiped Tyranus' blood on the leg of my pants. I knew following the daedra's orders were a bad idea but NOT following his orders could easily prove to be worse.
The house suddenly stopped shaking and the furniture that had been floating fell to the ground with an ear shattering clatter and I progressed through the house with extreme caution and wariness. I had no intention of dying. I still had millions of pockets to pick and places to discover and no daedra was about to rob me of my own life. I eventually came to a tunnel dug into the wall of the basement that wound deep underground and with narrowed eyes and an insatiable curiosity, I descended into the tunnel. The tunnel was bathed in an unearthly light and a thin layer of mist covered the floor and the air tasted metallic, almost bloody. I couldn't help but think I wasn't the first victim to be walking these halls. A sharp glint caught my eye and I squinted for a better look and strained my ears for any sign of oncoming danger. After several seconds of quiet observation I decided it was safe to proceed and I stumbled upon a black altar and in the center lay a daedric mace. My thieving mind wanted nothing more to grab it and run but the more rational side held back. I was dealing with a daedric prince and as far as I knew, there wasn't a single prince who freely gave out prizes. But…maybe…this once…I took a tentative step forward and reached out for the mace. Nothing happened. I took another step, then another, and nothing happened. I tilted my head suspiciously but I was through second guessing myself. I took the final step forward and just as my fingertips brushed the cool surface of the mace, I found myself to be caught in a cage of metal spikes that had risen from the ground out of nowhere. "Fool! Did you think Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, would so easily reward you?" I swore at my own foolishness and gripped the bars with my hands and shook them angrily but they wouldn't budge. Just as I expected. "What do you see from that little cage? SPEAK." The daedric prince commanded and I curled my lip back angrily, I didn't do so well in small spaces.
"I'd tell you if these bars weren't in the way." I spat spitefully, rattling the bars again. The prince chuckled a low, rumbling sound and the bars leaned in closer together trapping me in an even smaller space.
"I'll ask one more time. What do you see?" I narrowed my eyes into fine slits and with contempt dripping from my every word, I answered
"An altar." I growled and the black altar glowed with an unholy light and the bars shifted slightly with a gravelly groan. "A desecrated altar." I added in a lower voice and one angry snarl from Molag Bal later and I was slammed against my confines. The bars were a crude black metal that cut my skin and they sloped upward and ended in a dangerous point that was uncomfortably close to my face.
"I know it's desecrated you worthless cat." Molag Bal snarled as I tried to wring myself free from the cage but the bars only cut in deeper into my skin. "I once had many a sacrifice, much blood was spent on my honor until…" The bars closed in even further and I managed to free my head but the cage was crushing my ribcage and forcing the breath out of my lungs. If this continued much longer I could see myself being crushed to death. "…Until Boethiah." Molag Bal finished with another hair raising growl. The bars suddenly retreated back to their original positions and I slumped to the floor and sucked in a huge breath; I'd never been so grateful for oxygen in my life.
"He is the Lord of conspiracies." I muttered as I shook my fur free of dust and grime. I could feel the atmosphere grow heavy again and I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the altar unblinkingly, "Is it revenge you want?" I asked slowly, carefully, not wanting to set him off again but the prince only chuckled darkly.
"Revenge? No. I want submission. I want the priest who did this to bend his knee and give me his soul." I leaned against the back of the cage and gave the alter an amused smile.
"So you want revenge." Molag Bal ignored my insolence and continued speaking,
"He comes by to perform Boethiah's insulting rites at my altar, but he's been missing. Captured and bound. Left to rot." I shifted positions and exhaled deeply, this was getting dull fast. "Save him. Let him perform his rite one more time. And when he does, we will be waiting for him." My eyelids snapped open and I jerked my head back,
"We?" Why would I want to work with a daedric prince? I could hear the soft jingle of gold rattling in a hidden coin purse and the scent of freshly forged steel wafted into my nostrils,
"We." The prince whispered faintly and the next second, the bars fell away and I was free. I leaped away and circled the altar cautiously. I strained my ears forward, listening for any last words from the prince but none came and all I heard was the constant jingle of gold coins and the smell of steel and I quickly reached understanding. It was a bribe of sorts. Molag Bal knew a thief when he saw one. I backed away from the altar and nodded once in silent agreement before making the trek back into the outside world.
I stepped over Tyranus' body on the way out and left his pockets untouched. I may be a thief and a Khajiit thief to boot but I didn't let myself take from any divine disciples. Even if the disciple was Tyranus. I pushed the door open and hissed as the sunlight burned my eyes leaving them tingly and squeezed shut. I covered my face with a hand and slammed the door shut behind me out of spite. Whoever this priest was could wait. I had better things to do than fool with a daedric prince. Molag Bal's been alive this long, he could wait a few days. Or a few years. I rolled my shoulders and took one last look at Markarth, as much as I would've liked to sift through every building and take what I wanted, I decided it was time to go home. My ribs were bruised and in pain and my tail sported a long rip that dripped blood every few steps and the first rule of a thief was to never leave a trail and the drops of blood did nothing to help my situation. People stared as I walked past and I gave them all pointed glares and a low snarl. It was amusing to see them all treat me as if I was some feral beast. I stole some meat from the very man I'd insulted hours before and slipped out of the city and onto the next carriage due for Riften. I watched as the city slowly passed from view and I leaned back lazily and let myself slip into a light slumber. Divines knew I'd need it, getting sleep at the Ragged Flagon was practically unheard of.
"Unless you want to pay double the carriage fare, I suggest you get off." Bjorlam muttered, nudging me in the shoulder with the butt of a wine bottle. I opened my eyes slowly and stretched,
"I've never paid before and I don't intend on starting." I replied, taking the bottle from Bjorlam's hands. He chuckled good naturedly and clapped me on the back as I dismounted the carriage,
"Enjoy the skooma." He called as I passed through the city gates and I grunted in reply. Bjorlam had been the first Nord I'd met when I first entered Skyrim after an arduous journey from Morrowind and, much to my surprise, we became fast friends. He appreciated my silence and I didn't mind his constant chatter. He held no prejudices against me and I held none against him. It was an odd and seemingly one sided friendship but it worked and we were both content. He gave me free rides and I fulfilled any material needs. It was a win-win. The guards gave me nervous glances and I ignored them, their refusal to even try to uproot the Thieve's Guild was annoying. I'd always lived "on the edge" so to speak and their own petty fears made life in the Ratway dull. And Maven Black-Briar, though fundamentally our sponsor, was just asking for a knife to the throat. I didn't care how rich she was or the connections she had, as soon as the Guild was back on its feet, her life would be the first thing I'd take. Brynjolf was strongly against my intended plans but I'd never let anyone stop me from getting what I wanted so why start now.
It was a little past noon and I circled around the houses until I reached the cemetery and I slipped into an unassuming shack that stood beside a statue of Talos and pressed the button on the wall with the toe of my boot. I waited for the familiar grind of stone against stone but when it never came I pressed the button again. And again. And kicked it a third but still nothing happened. I cursed out of irritation and made my way back to the center of town and swung over the wooden railing and onto a short dock that jutted out into the dirty river of Riften.
"I told Brynjolf that damn thing was about to break…" I growled as I stepped from rafter to rafter, avoiding the cloudy puddles until I reached the familiar iron wrought gate. It had been at least a year since I'd used this entrance and I dreaded it. The Ratway wasn't the Ratway for no reason. It was skeever infested and home to the…"mentally unstable" population of Riften which was more than I cared to count. I pushed the gate open and instantly froze in place. This gate was supposed to be locked. I leaned down and glanced at the lock before fingering it with a sharp claw, it had definitely been picked by someone. I sniffed the lock and easily picked up the scent of a fellow Khajiit, a female Khajiit. I tilted my head in interest, I hadn't seen one of my own kind in months; I tended to not associate with the travelling caravans. I silently closed the gate behind me and slipped through the second door further inside and after adjusting to t he darkness of the Ratway, I heard the sound of one body hitting the ground and seconds later, a second. I pricked my ears forward, fully alert and I caught sight of the end of a tail bobbing in the darkness. It was a clean white like all Khajiit tails and I glanced at my own bloody tail and lashed it back and forth before stalking after the stranger. At least I wouldn't have to do any of the work.
I quickly caught up with the infiltrator and smirked lightly, so it was female. She moved with a stiffness that compromised the natural grace of our species but I assumed it was caused by the anxiety of being in a sewer. She held a bow tightly in her hands and I wrinkled my nose in distaste, a hunting bow and an orcish sword. I sincerely hoped she was poor and not stupid. Even in my…less wealthy days, I never settled with a hunting bow. They were never aligned properly and were far too stiff to be used effectively. To use one was almost an insult. She silently crept along until she reached the ledge and with a shrug, leaped to the ground nearly eight feet below. I was surprised to hear a man's voice and casually leaned over the edge and watched as the female deftly maneuvered around the bulky Nord, dodging his every blow. She seemed to be able to handle herself well enough in a fight but not so much with the actual killing. With a quick swipe of her sword, she decapitated the Nord and watched with horrified eyes as his head rolled across the floor leaving a trail of blood and severed nerves. My ears twitched gently and I snorted softly, what the hell was she doing down here? The Guild had no place for the squeamish. I sighed quietly and leaped over the edge, it was high time I met the trespasser myself.
I grabbed the Khajiit by the shoulder and spun her around to face me,
"Who are you?" I growled, lowering my head and growling threateningly. She seemed thoroughly shocked by my sudden appearance and dropped her sword. It clattered noisily to the ground and I flattened my ears and snapped my jaws angrily and lowered my head even further until I had a clear shot at her throat. After all I did have fangs and they weren't used half as much as they should be. "You better tell me before I tear your throat out, sister." I hissed and she swallowed nervously,
"B-Brynjolf sent me, I swear he did." She sputtered quickly, the anxiety and shock clearly showing in her eyes. I blinked and straightened to my full height. She also relaxed and her hands shifted at her sides and I growled softly and she froze and stared back, "You're not going to kill me, are you?" Her voice was soft and she spoke in our native language which surprised me even though I should've expected it. I took note of the talons she wore in her ears and twitched my own ears absently. A native Elsweyrian. A rare breed in Skyrim. Whether out of our shared ancestry or her intriguing beauty, I wasn't sure which, I allowed her to go inside without so much as a scratch.
"Get inside before I change my mind." I snapped and she rushed forward but I grabbed her by the back of the shirt and she glanced at me cautiously but I merely gestured at the orcish sword that still lay on the ground. She half laughed to hide her embarrassment as she bent down to pick up her sword but my expression remained unchanged and I pushed her forward roughly. "Move." I growled, still speaking in our native language. She stumbled forward unsteadily and I slammed the door behind us causing her to jump slightly. Her uneasiness was entertaining.
She stared with wide eyes and an open mouth at the circular pool of water and the many tables and c hairs and the primitive but fully functional bar that had been set up on the other side. I easily picked out Brynjolf's flaming hair from the other side and he quickly turned around and waved his hand in greeting,
"I was wondering when you'd show up again, J!" He yelled and I scoffed in reply,
"You should take better care of your toys, Brynjolf." I growled, pushing the female Khajiit forward again. She gave me a distressed look over her shoulder and I met her gaze unflinchingly. It would take more than a pretty face to change my attitude.
"Who? Her?" Brynjolf asked, gesturing toward the Khajiit. "The lass is a promising thief, at least treat her with a little respect." Brynjolf muttered but I ignored him and pulled out the bottle of skooma Bjorlam had given me and took a long draught. "She broke into Madesi's strongbox, stole a ring AND planted it on Brand Shei all within a few minutes." Brynjolf added as if sharing the details was supposed to impress me. I gave him a bored stare and sank into a chair across from Delvin Mallory who nodded a hello.
"She's a Khajiit. I'd be ashamed if she couldn't do a task as simple as that." I muttered and Delvin chuckled softly and tapped my bottle with his mead jug,
"Some protégé, eh?" I grunted into my bottle in reply and Brynjolf shook his head slowly and gave the Khajiit an encouraging clap on the back.
"You'll get used to him lass, he's not all bad." Vex appeared from the dark corner she usually stayed in and raised an eyebrow,
"Right, he's worse." She murmured, disappearing behind the door that led to the cistern. The female Khajiit gave me a worried look and remained silent and probably even more wary of me than before.
"Mercer wants to see you." Brynjolf added, gesturing for me to follow him. I made an annoyed sound in the back of my throat and swiveled my ears back and forth. There was something about Mercer that I just didn't like and speaking to him always left me in a fouler mood than before. I set my bottle down on the table and followed Brynjolf and the she-Khajiit into the cistern.
The female slowly turned around to face me as we walked and she flashed me a timid smile which I did not return.
"I'm-I'm Asha." She murmured, no longer speaking in the native language. I gave her a disinterested half smile,
"That's nice." I replied coolly. She turned to face forward again and Brynjolf shot me an annoyed look, obviously he was less than pleased with my attitude. Asha turned back to face me as we stopped at the center of the cistern, waiting for Mercer to finish his conversation with another guild member.
"I take it you're…J?" Her voice was soft and lilting, it was nice to hear and unlike most female Khajiits. She lacked the gravelly undertones that many Nords took a dislike to. I nodded once, confirming her question. "That can't be your real name…" She murmured and I smirked lightly,
"It isn't." We made eye contact and I took in the blueness of her eyes, they were a deeper blue than mine and a rarity among our kind. Blue eyes were a sign of good luck and, if tradition proved true, she was the luckiest Khajiit I'd ever met.
"What's your real name?" She asked timidly and I broke eye contact and focused straight ahead.
"It's none of your concern." I growled, signaling I was done making friendly small talk. She took the hint and turned back to face Mercer who was talking animatedly to Brynjolf. Brief introductions were made and I gradually lost interest and stared with increasing boredom at the pathetic excuse of a waterfall that fed into the cistern but it was Mercer who finally brought me out of the deepest recesses of my mind.
"J, you will accompany Asha to the Goldenglow Estate."
"WHAT?" I snapped angrily and Mercer held up his hands,
"No arguments. Go and observe. That's an order." He growled and I snarled angrily and turned my back on the three of them and tried to collect myself.
"I am not a babysitter." I growled and Brynjolf squeezed my shoulder lightly,
"No but you're one hell of an observer." He flashed me a bright smile and wished us both luck before departing to gods know where. Mercer had also left by then, not open to any further discussion and I was alone with Asha.
"I'm…sorry?" She murmured, unsure of herself and I squared my shoulders and without turning to face her, spoke to her in our native tongue again.
"We leave tomorrow at dawn."
"That's fine but-" I swung around to face her again and brought my face inches from hers,
"One wrong move and I'll kill you." I snarled and she blinked quickly, backing away and I left her standing at the center of the cistern, alone. Playing babysitter was the last thing I needed and especially for something as minute as the Goldenglow Estate. A khajiit cub could take care of the problem blindfolded and without any weapons. I spat angrily and stormed back out into Riften and headed for the Bee and the Barb. I needed a drink. Preferably with people who weren't thieves.