Burned

Due to the rat problem Mallus had limited his ale to one large container that I quickly was able to open and dump the poison in. I wondered at how strong (and how safe) such a poison would be to affect the entire vat, but I didn't take long to consider it. I had but a few seconds to decide whether I should flee and search out Brynjolf later or wait for him in the shadows to see what the verdict Athis and Njada had come up with.

The safer choice, of course, was to wait somewhere safe and hunt down one party or the other in Whiterun. My aching body begged me for this, to go back to the city and find a healer or at least the safety of my own bed at Jorrvaskr. But I couldn't do that. While I had faith that Brynjolf would find a way out of whatever situation he had gotten into, I had to make sure.

I shut the lid of the vat and went back down the stairs, sinking behind one of the other large containers, figuring that my fellow Companions would be bringing my fellow thief through any minute and wondering what I had gotten myself involved with. It was only a couple of moments later when the door burst open and I heard them.

"You shouldn't have gone down alone!" Njada said. "You stupid milkdrinker. Who do you think you are? Trying to steal our job from us."

I turned slightly to peak out from behind my hiding spot and saw Brynjolf shrug, one of his charismatic half grins on his face. The group passed by my spot and as they did, Brynjolf turned his head and winked and I sighed in relief. It seemed my thief had kept up his merc desperate for money role convincingly. My thief?

I shook my head, rising up from my crouch as I heard the door shut from the other side of the building. I slowly (the only pace I could manage anymore now that we were out of harm's way - hopefully) made my way toward the exit but hadn't reached the door before it opened again and I quickly dove for cover behind a pillar.

The door shut quietly behind the person and a voice called out, "Lass, where are you?"

I peeked out from behind my hiding post to make sure it was really Brynjolf and not someone very good at impressions. I wasn't taking any more risks after the last two days.

"Here, Brynjolf," I said, and began to limp toward him.

He frowned and quickly came over to me, putting his arm under mine for support and leading me over to a couple of crates nearby where he had me sit.

"Let me take a look at that."

He went behind me and started feeling around my armor, I hissed as he touched over a more tender part of the burns.

"Well, we're going to have to get you to a healer. I can't take the leathers off myself without harming you more, they're burned into your back in a couple of places. Mage must have been pretty powerful to do that," Brynjolf said.

I groaned. "A healer? Here? This will definitely get back to the Companions."

"Don't worry, lass. I know someone in town that will fix you up well enough," he said.

I wasn't sure I liked the way he said 'well enough' but wasn't sure I could protest. I enjoyed my place with the Companions and I owed Brynjolf too much to abandon my new Guild this early in, so it looked like I had no choice but to accept whatever shady person he could find.

But finally I had to ask, "What does that mean? I'm not going to be some Apprentice's experiment am I?"

Brynjolf laughed. "He's good with burns, should be able to get the leathers off and do a most the work on those. But you'll probably have to get the wounds you already had looked at again in the next day or two. I got the papers I need for Mercer too so now all that's left is to drag you home."

I sighed, relieved. "Back to Whiterun."

Back in Whiterun Brynjolf had me wait in his room at the Bannered Mare as he went off to find whatever contact it was that could help me out. While I was exhausted, the pain in my back (especially lying down) was enough to keep me awake.

When he returned a few minutes later he entered with a very put-out looking man.

"Everlee, Cairn, Cairn, Everlee," Brynjolf said.

Cairn turned his face to look at me, revealing a horribly burned left side and I tried my best to not react as I turned to my attention back to Brynjolf, trying to get across my doubts as to how well a man with such obvious scars could know about healing them.

Brynjolf laughed and said, "He's the best, trust me lass."

The man sighed heavily, "This is why I stopped working with you lot, all ungrateful."

"She's not ungrateful, just doubtful," I said. "I sort of have leather melted into my skin, if you do this wrong I will have to change my name to leatherback -"

"I know what will happen if I do it wrong. I do not need lectured by an amateur mage."

"Why does everyone assume I'm a mage?" I said, exasperated. "Just because I'm a Breton doesn't mean -"

"I can sense your mana levels, they aren't low enough to be without magic but they aren't high enough to mean much, now, are you going to let me heal you or not? Because I get paid either way," Cairn said.

I frowned, the man reminding me of a more mercenary version of Vilkas before I sighed. "Yes, of course."

I sat down on a stool as Cairn instructed. Methodically I could feel him assess my burns. He then grunted and reached into a robe pocket. I knew better than to turn to look to examine what it was in his hand, relying on my other senses to tell me just what he was about to do. I felt a cooling salve burn into my skin and I hissed, but resisted the urge to move. Cairn grunted again, and I imagined it was in approval but I couldn't be sure with the man. He then began healing me with various spells, alternating between that, and pulling back the leather from my skin piece by piece.

It took about a half hour before the magician straightened up and came about to face me. Brynjolf, who had been examining some of the seized documents, stood when it was done and shook the man's hand.

"Thank you Cairn," Brynjolf said.

Cairn snorted, "You paid me so much I should be thanking you but next time -" he turned to me, "just erect a fire shield. Even you can manage that, yes?"

"I jumped into - " I said, beginning to defend my actions, but the grumpy man was already out the door. "Oh nevermind."

"Well I appreciate your act of heroics, even if it must mean the Companions are wearing off on you too much," Brynjolf said. "Besides, had I taken the burns, it would have been hard for you to explain to the your comrades what you were doing there with a crispy mercenary."

I grimaced at that, trying to picture my stumbling explanation, panicked over Brynjolf's injury and being confronted by one of my fellows who liked me least. I shook my head to dislodge the thought. "I could always say that I was just getting dinner started."

"Fried mage with a side of burnt thief? Hmm, doesn't sound appetizing. Though I wouldn't mind being considered a part of the menu for another time," he said, laughing.

"Must you do that?" I asked, my cheeks flushing. "I think enough parts of me have burned today without my cheeks taking another blow."

"But it is so endearing and so easy, my dear Everlee," Brynjolf said.

"Well your 'dear' Everlee just wants to get into a nice warm bed and - oh stop looking at me like that. I want to get in my bed, not yours," I said.

Brynjolf laughed again, raising his hands defensively, "I said nothing."

"You didn't have to."

"Oh don't pout," he said. His smile eased into a more casual one and said, "But really, thank you for today."

"And er...thank you for not letting Mercer send your underlings at me," I said.

"Oh I'm sure we'll be uneven again before long. Now go if you must, to your bed," he said. "You've occupied mine quite enough today."

I rolled my eyes and stood, sucking in a deep breath as the injuries from the day before flared. I turned to look in the mirror in his room and, true to Brynjolf's promise, the severe burns were gone from what I could see of the tattered leather, somehow leaving the old wounds (old being relative, I reminded myself, as I had just gotten them yesterday).

"You should get yourself checked out at the chapel, Everlee," Brynjolf recommended softly. "I will contact you again when we know what our next move will be."

I nodded, and said, "Yeah, I think will. And until then, try to avoid fires. I have no idea who will hop in front of them recklessly for you while I'm gone."

"Only you," Brynjolf said. "Good night."

"Wait, my armor! I can't go wearing this," I said.

"Right, lass, I'd forgotten."

He stood and went to his trunk, flipping the lid open easily though I had thought it locked. He stepped back a bit and I stared at him, waiting for him to leave the room. I tilted my head. And then finally said, "Really? I don't need help getting my armor off, thank you."

Brynjolf quickly smiled and said, "As you wish."

And left the room. I grumbled under my breath about the increasing inappropriateness of that man as I went to work unbuckling my new and newly ruined armor and adorning my old heavier metal and cloak. My muscles ached and protested under the familiar weight, tired as they were. Finally, and with some struggle, I was ready to go back to the Mead hall for some well deserved supper and rest.

I opened the door and nodded to Brynjolf, who entered, gently placing a hand on my shoulder as he retreated to his quarters and shut the door. Part of my brain wondered what he meant by that, but the rest was too tired to even ponder if there were a deeper meaning than 'farewell.'