Special thanks to 16DarkMidnight80 who goes over these chapters! Also, happy Christmas (or happy holiday) to everyone reading this!

-L-

"My lady?" Svana poked her head into my office, where I was sorting through documents and Sofie was reading aloud for practice. I had to admit, the child's voice made a soothing background noise to all the paperwork; the company was pleasant, too.

Sofie stopped reading, looking expectantly at Svana, who leaned into the office without actually coming in. The door had been open, so she knew I wasn't so involved that I shouldn't be interrupted. And if I had been, Sofie wouldn't have been in the room at all.

"Yes, Svana? What is it?"

"Kitty is in town, my lady," Svana answered. "She was hoping to speak with you this evening. Around dusk. I think… I think it's more business than a social call. She seemed rather… preoccupied." Svana frowned, but said nothing else on the matter. She doesn't approve of the Thieves Guild, however good a friend to her Kitty has been. A better friend, I think, than Svana knows.

Still… if that silly blonde (who I know isn't that silly) is preoccupied and showing it? Oh dear. "Did she say where?"

"She has a room at Candlehearth."

I glanced at the nearest timepiece. It was several hours until dusk. The fact that Kitty hadn't simply arrived to talk business, which she's done in the past, suggested something serious. Either the Thieves Guild needs a mouthpiece or they cut her loose. I wonder which it is.

-L-

Kitty was in her room when I arrived at Candlehearth at dusk. She looked quite different than I was used to, for she had her armor on, her pretty clothes strewn across her bed as if to keep them neat. She wore what had once been a heavy-looking greyed leather cuirass, now devoid of sleeves, with a fitted, long-sleeved black tunic beneath it. She wore fitted trousers as well, shoes more like slippers than boots, and pads at her knees and elbows. Fine black leather gloves encased most of her hands, but left her thumbs, middle and forefingers bare. She carried a knife in a calf sheath, and an array of small items—thieves' tools—worked in and around the many straps and pockets hanging from her cuirass. Across her chest, from one shoulder, hung a bandolier of pouches.

"Have a seat," she offered, getting nervously to her feet. Nothing of her armor creaked or jangled, even as she began to pace nervously. Closer, I could see the leather received regular treatment: it was supple and soft, not drying and cracked.

"Svana thought this might be business."

"It is," Kitty answered, then took a deep breath. "I'm going to assume you heard what happened to Fjolti Cruel-Sea? Murdered a few months ago?"

I had to think back—it happened while I was gone, so I only read about it—but the name and relevant details did eventually surface. "I heard about it, of course. She was killed, then robbed. It is believed her killer ended up dead in a ditch. Apparently, he finally picked the wrong mark."

Kitty gave a sour laugh. "Well, first of all, it wasn't us. The Guild. You know why I joined the Guild?" she asked, before proceeding without waiting for me to answer. "So I wouldn't have to kill people. It's bad for business and I don't like the sight of blood. And now, there's these little shits trying to set themselves up as our rivals, and they're giving us a bad name, so Guildmaster Grievous and Bryn told me to get down here and sort it out. So now I'm talking to you." She exhaled briskly, looking rumpled.

"You find talking to me so distasteful, do you?" I asked, bemusedly.

Kitty's face fell, first a little hurt, then just confused. "What? No. Didn't I just tell you I've got a bunch of bozos trying to horn in and make the Guild look bad? No, I'm talking to you because you handle this sort of thing and are the best contact I've got in this chill-box of a city," she answered. "Don't think I don't know that you could make life really hard for the Guild if you wanted to. But you haven't. Yet. And if I have my way, you won't. Ever."

"Not that the Thieves' Guild has much of a foothold in this city."

She shot me a pained look, as if she didn't like to be reminded of the fact that the Thieves Guild wasn't the Guild of ten years ago. "Less than some, and trust me: you'd rather have us than those losers I'm here about. Or a hundred guys running all over freelancing," Kitty responded, still agitated.

That was true enough. Guilds like the Thieves Guild or the Dark Brotherhood have always existed, in one form or another. In fact, when legitimate governments fail, it's often these underground infrastructures that put out the most effort in getting things back to some semblance of normalcy: normalcy means business is steady and good. Strife and conflict, while they may present opportunities not otherwise afforded, can't be relied on for long term profitability.

"Are you asking my permission to set up an outpost in Windhelm?" I asked.

Kitty eyed me. "Maybe later, but not now. I'm here about the pricks that killed that girl and tried to pin it on us. I'm talking to you because the guy who did it was an Altmer. And it's well known you don't like Altmer."

"I have no problem with High Elves in general," I answered coolly. "I have a problem with the Thalmor, and indeed with petty murderers such as you've described."

"Fair enough," Kitty shrugged. "This is your city. The Guild gets that. I'm being polite and friendly-like, letting you know I'll be operating here. I need to pay someone a visit. I'd like you to come with. Look mean. It's not something I do well."

"What's in it for me?"

Kitty grinned, then plopped down on the bed. "I'm also here to negotiate on Guildmaster Grumpus' behalf. Or, rather, Bryn wants me to talk you over. The Guild is growing, and we'll come to Windhelm sooner or later. You are in a line of business that could benefit from having friends in the Guild. Forgers? Item reclamation? Planted evidence? Blackmail? We can do all that—well. All you have to do is not interfere unless form absolutely requires it. Don't worry. We'll be discrete," she waved.

So, basically, don't go on any reformative crusades. Well, I won't let Windhelm become a second Riften, but I can say I'd prefer to have a Guild rather than the aforementioned freelancers all over the place.

"I do wonder, do you have a member who is fluent in Aldmeris?"

Kitty considered, then twitched a shoulder, then ran her tongue thoughtfully over her front teeth. "I think so. He definitely swears in what sounds like some kind of Elf-tongue, when he gets to swearing at all, which isn't often. He's a nice fella. Too nice, really, for what he's supposed to be doing. But hiring out to you as an interpreter might get Guildmaster de Grumpsy off his back. I'll ask him when I see him."

I made a mental note of the repeated mocking distaste for her Guildmaster, and also that she'd deftly avoided giving anyone—except 'Bryn,' whom I assumed to be Brynjolf, and whom I'd already met—a name. I couldn't just show up at the Ragged Flagon and ask for someone by name before concluding business here and now. There was, as per usual, a kind of cleverness to the waves of chatter. "So what kind of arrangement, exactly, are you offering?"

Kitty shook her head, her fluffy blonde hair flaring out like a halo. "Uh-uh. You'll talk to Bryn when the time comes, once we've got this all cleared up. And I'll tell him to find out exactly what kind of Elf our nice fella speaks."

"I need him to be able to read it, not just speak it."

Kitty shrugged again. "That's tomorrow's problem. Tonight, I'm looking into this rival guild. Finding out what I need to know. Then, I'll report back and we'll decide how to fix it. I don't negotiate important stuff. I'm not good at it."

So she says. I get the impression Mistress Kitty here is quite the shrewd haggler when she wants to be. "Fair enough. Where to?"

She regarded my clothes, suitable for working, but nothing of armor was present. "I'm paying a visit to an Altmer named Niranye. We at the Guild? We know you've got this city in your bat-winged shadow."

Goodness. They make me sound like a second edition of Madame. I wonder if it's Kitty exaggerating, or if my reputation is truly so fearsome.

"Best to assume this other guild knows it too—otherwise, you'd have sent us a message demanding to know why the suddenly hostile methods. They're scared of you right now. Guess they figure if you got a whiff of them at this point, you'd be able to shut them down without a second thought. Permanently." Kitty pounded a fist into her other open hand to suggest swift finality.

"I'm impressed they've managed to stay out of sight," I admitted grudgingly.

"Oh, it's nothing on you!" Kitty hastily put in, amber eyes opening wide. "I mean, we didn't even know there was a problem until the message arrived about this murder and asking why the hell we'd changed our methods all of a sudden-like."

I frowned at this flow of chatter, wondering whether I ought to accept the reassurance or be suspicious of it. "So we're visiting Niranye?" And I wonder, who is her other contact? The one who wanted to know why the Thieves Guild changed tactics.

Comparing the facts, specifically the victim of the murder, the fate of the thief who did it, I immediately supposed Torsten Cruel-Sea the most likely contact. He's not the sort to sit back if the City Watch can't or doesn't do its job. Perhaps even to anticipate them, and do their job for them?

Perhaps.

Kitty smiled. "I've got other contacts in the city. This one says she knows something about all this. And you never know: maybe you'll have a good reason to sink the claws in." She imitated a cat's paw, flexing claws, with one hand and a grin.

It was odd to think the Thieves Guild was putting real effort into keeping relations with me sweet. Still, they could be a powerful tool, especially if they do have a member who is fluent in Aldmeris. I've got documents that need translating, and I wouldn't get Marguerite enmeshed in all these politics by asking her to translate them for the world. The Guild can look after its own members.

"Alright. Let's pay Niranye a visit. I assume I'm just there for show?"

"Well, if you come up with any clever questions, that'd be helpful too," Kitty shrugged, bouncing to her feet. "But mostly for scare, yeah."

-L-

Niranye lived next door to Calixto's former residence, south of Brunwulf Free-Winter's house. A rather auspicious place for an Altmer to own, in a city known for its bigotry and hostility towards 'outsiders.'

Kitty tested the handle on the door to see if it was locked, which it was. "I'll get in the back way. meet you two inside." With that, she seemed to literally melt into the shadows, as if they'd suddenly grown solid and slurped her up. I could still see her, but only because I knew where to look. I blinked, then lost track of her altogether.

The slight giggle that emanated from Kitty—evidence that she knew very well that I'd tried to watch her slip away—was not enough to help me reacquire her position.

A brisk knock at the door brought Niranye to it. She was tall, like most Altmer, her sharp features giving her a cold, looking-down-on-you expression. Her eyes widened as she regarded me. "Lady Stormcloak," she said uneasily.

I gave her my best smile. "Niranye. I need a word with you, if you could spare the time?"

If this unnerved her, she gave no further sign. "Of course. Come in, my lady." She stepped aside, allowing me into the house.

Kitty had already gotten inside. As soon as Niranye closed the door behind me, and turned to look into her home, the thief gave a chuckle. "Heya, Niye!" Kitty beamed, pronouncing it 'hey-yah Nee-yah,' something slightly unpleasant in the smile turning it into a leer. "Been awhile, yeah?"

Niranye gasped, eyes raking Kitty's clothing as she clapped a hand over her mouth and took several steps back, stumbling into an end table, knocking the vase off of it. She unclamped her hand, looked from me to Kitty, then back. "Now listen here—" she began, flustered. "—the Guild lost me long before you joined it! What was I supposed to do? Starve?"

"Nah, no one cares about that," Kitty waved this aside as inconsequential. "But the problem is the new guys you're in bed with."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I cast about, found a chair, picked it up and placed it behind Niranye. "Sit." Grabbing the back of her gown, I jerked. Her balance shifted, dumping her awkwardly into the chair.

"So much for a change in leadership!" Niranye spat, glowering haughtily at me. "What? A thief's word is of more value than that of an honest merchant?"

Kitty was in Niranye's face a second later. She didn't look very menacing, but the energy around her crackled. She pressed her bare forefinger into the soft part of Niranye's throat, not hard but certainly with menace. "No one cares about that, either. A girl was murdered—Fjotli Cruel-Sea. So unless you want to end up like the prick who killed her, you'd better talk to me, and I'll talk to the Guild and try to keep you," Kitty poked her in the breastbone, "out of a shallow ditch."

"I have nothing against elven entrepreneurs, Niranye," I declared coolly. "But I do have something against thieving murderers—and apparently there is a nest of them somewhere near my city. You may ingratiate yourself with me by sharing what you know, or you may be punished with them. I assure you, they won't be receiving a date in court."

Niranye shivered. "They're crazy! I could be killed!" she whispered, beginning to sweat visibly.

"Not if they're killed first. And no one knows the Guild is involved, yet. As far as anyone knows, I'm here to see you about a consignment of books for the orphanage north and east of here," I continued. "We'll discuss it once the young lady here has had her say."

Niranye shifted in her seat, twisting to look at me—partly so she didn't have to count Kitty's freckles. Unseen, Kitty grinned, winking broadly at me, then motioned me to continue the interrogation.

"Niranye." I brought over a chair for myself, setting it opposite her, then settling delicately onto it. "It really is as simple as taking your chances with me, versus taking your chances with them. And I assure you, I don't care how your ears point. Who killed the girl, Fjotli?"

Nirayne was silent for a few minutes, then she looked down into her lap. "A guild of Altmer thieves. They call themselves the Summerset Shadows."

"Political affiliations?"

"None that I know of," Niranye answered. "They're just thieves. Exiles or something."

Behind us, Kitty prowled back and forth, but there was an intensity in the air which said she was listening hard, engraving the information on her memory so she could take it back, word perfect, to the Thieves Guild.

"I think they're just capitalizing on the fact that most people see an Altmer and assume that Altmer has to have Thalmor connections," Niranye answered wearily. "Perhaps it's best to bring this to you, to prove it isn't so in one case, at least." That case, obviously, being her own.

"Ah, Niranye. If I thought for one moment you were a Thalmor collaborator, we would not be talking. If I thought you were a sympathizer, we still wouldn't be talking. I would be tarring you with the same brush I intend to tar this upstart Guild. Now, please continue."

Niranye took a slow breath, then released it over several seconds. "Your short friend over there is right." Kitty stuck her tongue out at the back of Niranye's head, but seemed otherwise undisturbed by the disparagement. "I did once work with the Thieves Guild—oh, never a member, but… a friend in a foreign city, if you will."

A fence, in other words.

"When the Guild started to dry up, a lot of us were cut loose. I grew my business here, of all places, in spite of the idiots in charge," she continued bitterly. "Then, one day, he came to me. Linwe. I don't know how he knew I was a… friend… in the old days, but he did. He me wanted to resume that position. Well, one can always use a little extra income, so I said yes. I didn't realize, at first, he wasn't actually a member of the Thieves' Guild. By the time I did…" she shrugged. "There wasn't much I could do except keep being a friend. Mostly, I was to let him know when you were out of the city. He seemed to think operations were safer if you couldn't hear about them within hours of them happening."

"I intimidate this fellow, do I?"

Niranye chuckled sourly. "For the moment. But I think sooner rather than later he'd simply like to kill you. Open up business a little further. I don't know. Maybe you killed a relative of his at Markarth."

"Well, we'll just have to disappoint him, won't we?"

Niranye shifted in her chair. "Linwe runs the Summerset Shadows. He's…" she shivered. "Not someone I would wish to cross. When he's not picking live marks, he's stealing from dead ones."

I took this to mean, at some point, he threatened her with a fate like Fjotli's. In a city like this, who would she go to? Not the City Watch, surely. Not for the first time, I cursed the social mire into which Windhelm had sunk.

"Murders them for surety?" Kitty asked with some disgust.

Niranye didn't laugh, but she looked sickened. "No. I mean he steals from those who are already dead."

"Oh." Kitty's 'oh' of comprehension seemed to suggest 'well, if he's not murdering, and what's a dead guy gonna do with expensive baubles anyway?' I didn't have the impression she felt it proper to rob graves, just that she understood the mindset.

"Are you telling me he breaks into the Hall of the Dead?" I asked.

Niranye nodded. "I don't know how. I didn't want to know. And by that point, the bloom was off the relationship, if you will."

"When you say—"

Niranye turned to pin Kitty with a frigid look. "It was only ever a professional relationship, and thank Auri-El for that!" she snapped.

Kitty held up her hands as if in surrender, grinning as if to say 'just checking!'

"I understand why you didn't bring this forward," I declared calmly.

Niranye relaxed a little, but remained watchful. "So what happens now?"

"Do you know where Linwe is holed up?" Kitty asked.

"Yes. It's a cave, Uttering Hills Cave, south and west of the city. If you can find Gallows Rock, head north. There's a track or path."

Kitty nodded. "I'll have a look. Be back in a few days." With that, she slithered out a back window, leaving Niranye and I alone. She shut the window softly behind her from the outside.

"So tell me. Are you Linwe's only informant in the city?" I asked.

"As far as I know, I am. What happens now?" she asked apprehensively.

"You will continue on as if nothing strange has occurred. I will give you an order to collect what books you can for the orphanage, as I told you. You said earlier you thought the leadership of Windhelm had been changing. Do you, or was that just to see if I flinched?"

Niranye regarded me thoughtfully. "Change doesn't come quickly to Windhhelm. And yet change has come, nonetheless. In small ways, perhaps, but still change."

I nodded. "The first of many for the better, I hope."

Niranye shrugged. "You've been listening to the Dunmer."

"What do you mean by that?"

She snorted. "I know the kind of cobble they feed themselves and any sympathetic ears. But look at me: I'm an Altmer in Windhelm, and I live in a proper section of town with a reasonably successful legitimate business. When I arrived here years ago, I saw that the Nords were mistrustful of outsiders. But in time, I made the right friends and proved myself useful enough that they don't give me trouble anymore. Rolff aside, but you fixed him, didn't you?"

I didn't incriminate myself, or anyone else, about Rolff's stupid arson attempt and the fallout thereof. "And is that what you're doing now? Making the right friends?"

Niranye smiled thinly. She seemed to have decided that I wasn't going to punish her for her illegal activities or for being associated—however much on the fringes—with this new guild of thieves and murderers. "Of course. I hear a great many things, my lady, things that perhaps do not reach your ears. My value as a friend isn't limited to the Thieves Guild."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed. I hear a lot of things because my ears do point. The Dunmer are simply too proud and too naive to understand the way things truly are. So they continue to dwell in that slum, feeling hard-done-by and bitter." She curled her lip as if she found their attitude rather… contemptible.

I took this with a grain of salt. "Not everyone can make the necessary friends."

"Not everyone bothers trying, either. I'm simply saying, in the minds of the Nords of today, the Dunmer are still 'those refugees.' And do you know why that is? Because in the Dunmers' minds, they're still refugees who didn't receive a warm welcome, and still aren't receiving one. They sequestered themselves when they arrived—I expect to feel safer in a new place—and expected the city to integrate around them, rather than integrating with the city. I've never spoken to anyone among them who wasn't part of the middle to upper class. And they resent losing what they had back in Morrowind, and not being able to recreate the standards to which they were accustomed here."

Again, the necessary grain of salt. But while there was an air of superiority in Niranye's words, I could tell she believed what she said. It was less a matter of blaming anyone and more… a question of perspective.

"Look at your employee, Suvaris. She refused to simply settle, made the right friends, and now look at her: a comfortable position in a reputable household," Niranye shrugged.

"So what sort of arrangement did you have in mind?"

Niranye smiled, the first real smile she'd worn so far. Her posture eased, as it does when one enters one's own realm of influence. "Ulfric is going to win this war. That's not in question anymore, and he's going to win it within the next year—within the next couple seasons," Niranye said briskly, as if this were a business meeting rather than what started as a clandestine interrogation. "Change is coming to Windhelm, but it's not here yet. When he wins, there's going to be a lot of anti-Altmer feeling—and a lot of anti-whoever feeling for those who stayed out of the fighting. That can't be avoided. But a good word now and then, here and there, from your gracious lips might help deflect some of the worst of it until things settle down."

"That's what you want. Now, what would I get out of such an arrangement?"

"That's refreshing! Dancing around a topic is well and good, but sometimes it's best to cut right to the heart of it. Well, for instance, I see and hear a great deal. Little things. For instance… you might ask your brother's dear friend Brunwulf about the Imperial presence right here in Windhelm." From the curve of her mouth and the glitter in her eyes, it was clear Niranye wasn't going to say anything more on the subject. I would just have to investigate—or not—as it pleased me. "And you never know. If the Guild is sending people to me, maybe they'll talk. Gossip is a valuable commodity… and isn't it better to know what the Guild is doing, if you can't keep them from setting up shop?"

"It is." And a shopkeeper might hear more than a beggar. Or, rather, might hear different things than a beggar. "This still seems heavily in your favor." Not the least because I'm not sure I want to trust Niranye with translating sensitive documents. If I thought I could trust her with them, that would be quite different. But, as it stands, it's not a risk I'm willing to take. The Guild, at least, had already proved themselves intolerant of Thalmor interference.

Niranye shrugged. "Perhaps. But who can say what the future holds? Perhaps I'm best saved for a rainy day. And I can be utterly discrete."

I smile thinly. Indeed, who can say? But I'm not likely to trust such a request—or such an offer—without due consideration.