"Bloody skeevers," Alora muttered, yanking her dagger from the rat's body. "Almost got me there, didn't you?"

When Maven Black-Briar initially assigned her the job, it had seemed all too easy. Poisoning a mead vat? No problem. Killing legions of skeevers? Now that was something she had neglected to mention. By the time Mallus Maccius had informed Alora of the details, she was already in Whiterun, and it was too late to reject the job.

Frankly, the job didn't even seem fit for a thief. The deceptive part, sure. But the skeevers? Not to mention the plethora of hairy frostbite spiders lurking around every corner. Alora shuddered. She loathed spiders.

Nonetheless, the creatures proved easy enough to handle. Her real problem didn't appear until she neared the end of the cavern. At first, he had appeared to be nothing more than a simple alchemist. She contemplated sneaking around him, until she noticed the rat's nest three paces away from where he stood. The nest she was supposed to poison.

Maccius hadn't mentioned this man to her before. If he worked for Honningbrew Meadery, or was a laborer of some sort, surely he would have said something about him.

Alora took no chances. He was a risk that she would eliminate. Nocking an arrow, she aimed for the back of his head and released the bowstring.

The arrow deflected off an invisible ward.

No! she thought. Oh gods, no...

To her dismay, the shot did not go unnoticed. The man turned around, looking both angry and very hostile.

"Who's there?" he shouted. Blue lances of shock magic began to build on his palms, to Alora's eminent horror. "I know you're there! Come to challenge me, have you?"

Why, oh why, had Maccius not spoken of this man? This magician? What was she to do now? Her arrows were of no more use...Maybe, she thought, he could still be knifed. But that would mean close combat...

And close combat meant getting zapped.

It was a risk she had to take. Swallowing her fear, she blurted, "I am here. Come and meet your death!" And leaped from the shadows.

The man shouted incoherently. Bolts of lighting shot from his fingers, missing her by inches. She ran in an unpredictable pattern, trying desperately to avoid getting shocked.

Bracing herself, she drew closer to the man, jumping and ducking to avoid the bolts. Once she finally got within stabbing range, however, the magic struck her.

It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The magic shocked her to the core, causing her whole body to resolve into shakes. She lay trembling on the floor for several long moments, waiting for the pain to stop. Begging the pain to stop.

"That should teach you not to challenge the mighty Hamelyn!" The man cackled, and turned around.

He turned around.

He thought she was finished. He thought she would die.

Once the writhing finally ceased, she sat up ever so slowly. He was a challenge, all right. But she was Alora.

With the last reserves of her strength, she threw her dagger toward the man's back. It lodged itself squarely between his shoulder blades. His knees buckled and, with an anguished cry, he slumped to the ground.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Alora crawled over to the man's lifeless body. Among his alchemical supplies, she spotted a bright pink Potion of Healing.

Never in her life had she been so thankful.

Unstoppering the bottle, she downed the warm liquid with renewed vigor. The potion did wonders. Not only did it stop her limbs from shaking, it helped calm her fears and strengthen her resolve.

After applying poison to the nest, the rest of her job was easy. She entered the Honningbrew Boilery and, finding the vat of Honningbrew Reserve, dumped the remaining poison inside.

Hopefully this won't do too much harm to the Guard Captain, she thought.

Upon re-entering the Meadery, she found that the Captain had already arrived. Sabjorn, the owner, appeared nervous. Mallus Maccius stood nearby. Oh, did she have words for him.

Once the poisoned mead passed through the Captain's lips, it wasn't long before a confused Sabjorn was hauled out the door in irons.

"Bye, Sabjorn," Maccius murmured.

After they left, Alora turned to him with fury in her eyes. "I should crush you into a fine powder."

"Why?" Maccius asked, affronted.

"Care to explain why you didn't tell me about that lunatic in the basement?" Alora snapped, her voice rising. "Or did you want me to die down there? I only got back alive because of luck!"

"I couldn't have you running out on the job," he said, crossing his arms. "Besides, you saved me from having to hire someone to kill him later."

"Well, joke's on you, because I'm not leaving here without compensation."

Maccius grimaced. "You thieves and your money. Fine. Will one hundred septims suffice?"

"I suppose," said Alora. "I also need the key to Sabjorn's dresser."

"Sure," said Maccius. "Is this about the 'secret partner?'"

"Yeah," said Alora. "Maven's not happy about it."

"I can imagine," said Maccius, handing over the key and the money. "Feel free to nick whatever's up there, I could care less."

And nick she did. In addition to finding another mysterious piece of parchment, Alora found two hundred septims, three rubies, and a jeweled decanter.

"I'll tell you what," said Maccius, just before she left the meadery. "Anytime you're in town, and need a fence, come see me. I'll give you a good price for any...questionable items."

Alora smiled. "Thanks, Mallus. Good luck with running Black-Briar Meadery West." And she was gone.


Back at the Bannered Mare, Alora found that she couldn't sleep.

She had been relaxing in bed for over an hour, willing herself to fall into slumber. It seemed that no matter what she did, she could not shake the emptiness in her heart.

Why did she feel that way? She had spent plenty of nights in Whiterun before. The bed was comfortable, the food was satisfying. The day's events had been tiring. That alone should have been enough to lull her into lethargy, but it wasn't. Was it because of the magic? No, she'd had plenty of time to get over that...

All of a sudden, the thought occurred to her.

"Oh, gods," she said aloud. "I miss them."

She missed Delvin's witty banter and Brynjolf's laugh. She missed Dirge's empty threats and Niruin's stories. Heck, she even missed Vex's sarcasm. And in the morning, she would be all too eager to hop on the Whiterun carriage and ride back to Riften.

As much as she liked being part of the Guild, Alora felt a twinge of annoyance at her revelation. Never before had she felt so attached to one place. Normally, she was quite restless and liked to travel. Now, all she could think about was returning home.

Home?

She didn't have a home. She hadn't had one for many years. She'd hardly been there a month, and now she was calling that musty old Cistern home?

I must be going mad. Shaking her head, Alora left the room and bought herself an extra-strong sleeping draught.


A/N: Hi reader! I hope you liked chapter seven. Let me know what you think of the story so far! Any advice you may have about my writing, the plot, or the characters would be very appreciated! I really enjoy writing this story, but I want to know if you're enjoying it, too. :) Thanks so much. -Inkletter