Chapter 5: Honor Amongst Thieves
Zayden awoke with his forehead planted firmly against the surface of the bar he found himself sitting at the night previous and wondered for a moment if he had moved at all. He lifted his gaze to see the same clay jug from the evening before cracked in half in front of him, empty of its contents. His small yellow glass, similarly, was in pieces on the floor next to his stool. Before he could look further, Zayden was suddenly grabbed by the back of his collar and guided off his stool and back toward the stairs.
"Good, you finally woke up," Zeela chided with a hint of mirth in her voice, pushing the stumbling Imperial forward. "I thought I might have actually killed you last night. But you actually managed to drink one-and-a-half jugs of sujamma. I'm actually kind of impressed. You must have been the town drunk where you came from."
"W-Where are you taking me?" Zayden barely managed to slur through the splitting pain in his head.
"You will find out in a minute."
Zeela led Zayden back up the stairs and out the front door of the South Wall Cornerclub. The weather that day was overcast and foggy making it impossible to guess the time of day. He was led around the back of the building where a few patrons from the night before sat rearby atop wooden crates smoking pipes. They glanced at Zayden and smirked as he was pushed by a few meters to the south toward a sizable tree.
Zayden was then pushed against the trunk of the tree, his arms only just managing to stop him from falling into the trunk completely. Before he could ask another question Zeela had leaned in and opened a small vial underneath Zayden's nose. One whiff of its contents was enough to induce an intense bout of vomiting. Everything he had drank last night came back out the way it came.
"Smelling salts," Zeela explained as the man continued to heave more and more. "We'll need to sober you up and replace what you've now lost with water and food. Once you've stopped we'll go back inside for some breakfast."
Zayden was too busy expelling the contents of his stomach to be angry at Zeela, both for drinking him into blacking out and her "cure" this morning. He looked over to his left at the group of pipe smokers. While most turned away at the spectacle one looked on and laughed aloud with each new heave and hurl. It took Zayden roughly seven minutes before he could declared himself "empty."
When Zayden and Zeela returned to the lower level of the South Wall the old Breton from the day before was back behind the bar. A small plate of dark brown toast coated with honey, a thin flank of ham, and a tall flagon of water was already served and waiting for Zayden.
The Breton chuckled at the Imperial's now sickly appearance. "Eat and drink slowly, 'toad,'" he advised Zayden. "Last person I ever saw drink that much in an evening might have been old Caius himself. But that was over ten years ago, and on a heavy bet."
"I remember that," Zeela added, putting Zayden in a seat in front of his food, then taking a seat adjacent. "That young Dunmer had no idea who he was challenging. But he was a good sport afterward. Unlike this one next to me."
Zayden was midway through a small bit of his toast when he turned to Zeela. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"If you were resentful before you started drinking, you embodied resent wholly once you were halfway through your jug. You seethe in a very quiet yet vicious way, Imperial. Oh the things you muttered to yourself through clenched teeth when you thought no one was listening." Zeela gave a hearty laugh as she took from the Breton a cup of black coffee. "But you always insisted on seeing the task through to the end. And you did, and then some."
"Thank you…" Zayden grumbled, returned his throbbing thoughts back to his breakfast. Despite emptying his stomach prior, each bite conjured a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Through it all, though, he managed to clean his plate. As he began to gradually finish his water, Zeela reached over and held out in front of Zayden his one remaining cigar made by the Argonian.
"You attempted to smoke this last night," Zeela explained, "but fumbled it from your fingers and once it fell to the floor you quickly forgot about it. If you want it now-" Zayden snatched it up in an instant and, noticing a small candle on the bar near him, began to smoke it there and then. While it did nothing to ease his stomach or head, the cigar did manage somehow to calm his nerves, if only slightly.
It was around this time that the door behind the bar opened and Sugar-Lips Habasi emerged from behind it. She greeted Zayden first with a passive, almost uncaring look, then greeting Zeela and the Breton warmly. "How is 'toad' feeling?" she asked Zayden. When Zayden did not reply immediately Zeela cut in and answered.
"He's been 'emptied' this morning," she told Sugar-Lips. "After he eats I'll have him study up the fundamentals." Sugar-Lips nodded in approval and, after making her leave known to the others, left for the stairs.
"Toad?" Zayden repeated aloud. "I have been called that twice this morning now."
"Such is the name of your rank. All members begin as 'toads.' Most people here are 'Wet Ears' and 'Footpads,' respectively one and two ranks above you. Sugar-Lips is a 'Mastermind,' one rank below the highest rank possible, 'Master Thief.'"
"And you are…?"
"A 'Captain.' Toad, Footpad, Blackcap, Operative, Bandit, Captain, Ringleader, Mastermind, Master Thief. That's how the rankings go. I could have easily been a ringleader a long time ago, but I had no desire for it back then." She swiftly finished what was left of her coffee before continuing. "You can read, yes?" Zayden nodded. "Good, because you'll be doing nothing but that today, since you're recovering. I have in my quarters the fundamental texts to understanding what it means to become a member of the Thieves Guild.
Tomorrow, when you have fully sobered up, your days will consist of physical training during the day and study in the evening. Take your water and cigar with you for now. Follow me."
Zayden followed Zeela behind the bar through the same door Sugar-Lips had appeared from. It led to a single hallway with doors evenly spaced the entire length. Zeela walked to the third door on the left and opened it with a key she produced from underneath her cloak.
Zeela's quarters were sparse and small, measuring no more than fifteen feet long and ten feet across. A cloth hammock stretched taught and close to the ceiling across the shorter back wall, leaving enough room beneath it to walk under. Beneath the hammock, against the wall, was a small bookshelf filled with some books but mostly scrolls. Against the right wall were two wardrobes and a large chest and against the left wall was a long desk and chair.
"Take a seat at the desk," Zeela said and she started to grab items from the bookshelf. She eventually laid out on the desk several things and explained that all these texts were to be read and understood by tomorrow morning. Zayden nodded and it was not long before Zeela turned to leave her quarters and Zayden to his work.
"I'll grab you some more water. Need anything else?" She asked Zayden before leaving through the door.
Zayden thought for a moment and, looking at the now half-smoked cigar he paced to the side, remembered someone. "Yes," he replied with a grin. "More cigar tobacco and an Argonian to roll them for me."
Zeela chuffed with amusement at the request. "I can fulfil the first part but not the second. Slaves aren't cheap, don't you know?" Before Zayden could explain he did not mean a slave Zeela had already turned away and shut the door behind her. Zayden began his reading.
The writings he was given were an odd collection. One volume, a book entitled "Honor Among Thieves" was a detailed code for thieves for daily conduct with other thieves, the public, and authority figures, as well as an outline of the guild's higher values and beliefs. In some respect it made the organization out to sound somewhat like a religion, even implying worship of some daedric princes.
Other articles proved to be just as informative. One scroll detailed the use of "shadowmarks," a list of different symbols carved into homes and buildings to denote their status, whether they were worth stealing from or not, whether they were under guild protection, fence locations, safe havens, and "no go zones." Other scrolls were printed illustrations and detailed narrations of proper fighting techniques, another a brief guide on construction a proper "sneaking suit."
Other texts were lessons written in the form or stories. One such tale, "Three Thieves," was a gruesome account, first consisting of three men discussing various methods of how to cutting another's throat whilst keeping yourself clean of blood, and finishing with an anecdotal story of the deadly fate of those who betray their partners in crime.
Zayden was able to absorb much of the antidotal lessons easily enough. If one could put themselves in the mindset of a thief the teachings became somewhat common sense. It was subjects like the shadow marks and the things that required memorization that proved more difficult.
Zeela returned some time later with a pitcher of watered down ale and a bundle of chroot cigars wrapped in brown paper, explaining with faux disappointment that they were not rolled by Argonian claws. When Zayden briefly explained his run in with the alchemist on the silt strider, Zeela merely remarked that the tale was interesting and, taking a cigar for herself, urged him to keep studying, only returning a few time throughout the day.
Zayden spent much of the remainder of the day doing just that, taking only occasional breaks to eat and step outside for fresh air and a brief walk. By the time evening fell Zayden felt mentally exhausted and his hangover nearly gone. Zeela eventually sent him to the room opposite hers to sleep, a similarly small room furnished with only one bed roll and nothing else.
The next morning Zayden was woken up before dawn and fed a quick bread and water breakfast. Once finished, he was ordered to leave all his weapons in his room for Zeela and he would train with wooden weapons. She led Zayden out of Balmora and to the northeast, following a main road for a few miles before cutting north off of it. The two finally stopped in a wide, shallow dell spotted by tall barren trees.
Zeela tossed Zayden a crude blunt wooden dagger with a bent cross guard, she herself holding one. Without warning Zeela lunged forward and struck Zayden in the thigh. "One for me," she boasted with a grin. Zayden protested but was quickly cut off by another attack, one he barely managed to dodge.
"Is this our training?!" Zayden gasped between breaths as he dodged a few more swings and thrusts.
"Correct!" Zeela exclaimed. "You read and studied the diagrams and fighting manuscripts last evening, did you not?"
"A-A little, yes, but-"
"Pictures can only teach you much, Imperial. In theory. But without application, they mean nothing. I teach by harsh, unrelenting example! There will be no practicing of stance, form, or other such dance routines when I train you how to fight. I will attack, you will defend yourself and try to hit me back. Do not hold back because I am a woman because I am holding back nothing against you!"
Such was the basic tenor of the two's training: combat and fighting during the day and study at night with breaks in night lessons every few days. Some nights Zayden was taught and refreshed in the art and practice of lock picking. Some days in the practice of silent stealthy movement, both in day and night, city and in the wild. Weapon concealing, carrying, an improvising. Bribery, intimidation, coercion, and body language reading. Concealment and camouflage in both the wilds and the city. Spying and observation. All these things and more were taught to give Zayden as well-rounded a set of skills as possible.
It took a month-and-a-half into Zeela's crash course in sparring for him to finally develop a technique to defeat her. Using his naturally superior strength he developed a method of quick dodges and grappling follow-ups. Zeela was pleased when he recognized his adaptation to her superior speed and agility. "Very good, Zayden! Use your opponent's strengths against them and take advantage of yours!" It would be another two weeks before Zayden could successfully dodge and grapple Zeela in most sparring matches.
When Zeela realized this and felt satisfied in his improvement, morning sparring continued with a new, third member; an associate and friend of Zeela's from the Fighters Guild in Balmora. It was an Orc by the name of Garothmuk. Tall, thick muscles, and as mean a face as any warrior Orc could have.
Zayden's sparring with Garothmuk began with the Orc using a long, two-handed training sword. His swings, although much more powerful were much slower and, after sparring with Zeela so much, Zayden found it was easy to dodge and close the gap for a finishing blow against his opponent. When Zeela felt satisfied, the two then began fighting with one-handed swords, evening out their differences. This was when the sparring began to become very difficult.
As it turned out, when wielding a regular sized weapon, Garothmuk was quicker than Zeela in spite of his size. Now Zayden was at the mercy of a stronger opponent, forcing his to be even quicker. It took Zayden another three months to become atleast halfway good at fighting Garothmuk before Zeela was satisfied. Then Zayden had to spar against the both of them at the same time, and five more months passed. Zayden began to wonder if the opponents would keep increasing forever.
"That would be foolish," Zeela explained to Zayden when the concern was voiced. "One would have to be a master fighter to survive more than three opponents at once. Remember we are thieves, Zayden. Not fighters, not warriors. Thieves. If you face more than two opponents, the smartest thing for you to do is escape. We train you hard so you know your limitations, then teach you how to flee when your are outmatched. 'Pushing your boundaries' is the stuff of children's stories. In reality, you stick your head out too far and you die. It is always preferable to live to fight another day."
In total, Zeela's sparring training lasted a full year and four months. Normally, throughout this time, any aspiring thief would have been sent on at least on mission, usually as part of a group, to make their first steal. But Zeela did not subject Zayden to this for she knew, in his heart, he was not thief material. He was neither capable, nor did he have any desire, to commit any true criminal acts. It was her stated intention from the very beginning to have Zayden become "muscle" to assist others in racketeering jobs.
And so, when Zayden rose in guild rank twice during his training to become a "blackcap," Zayden was finally skilled and of sufficient rank to be sent out on jobs. On the day of his ascension to blackcap, Zayden, Zeela, and a few friends of the guild went to a tavern in Balmora's market district to celebrate.
The group returned late that evening and they met Sugar-Lips smoking outside the South Wall's front door. She greeted the group, particularly Zayden, warmly. "It has been good day for all," she commented as they walked inside together. "An old friend of the club has returned today as well. Zeela will be pleased to see him, Khajiit thinks."
Downstairs in the cantina, sitting at the bar, was an old Imperial with gray hair and simple brown pants and white shirt. Without him turning around Zeela instantly recognized him. "Caius!"
Caius Cosades turned and, recognizing Zeela, stood up to embrace her. "It has been a while, has it not?" he laughed. "Forgive me if I worried you."
"Not worried, so much. Someone like you, long in your years as you are, can not die so easily. It has been nearly two years! Where have you been?"
"I did a bit of soul searching, if you will, up north. I wanted to rid myself of my 'sugar' habit once and for all. I sought out one of the Ashlander tribes and they were able to cure me of it! I lived amongst them for a time and I returned to Balmora the day before last. I tell you, my dear, my mind feels much clearer." Caius's eyes scanned the group Zeela walked in with and his gaze eventually fell upon Zayden. "I see many familiar faces. But yours, Imperial, is new here. And yet…"
Caius approached Zayden and examined his features. "You strike me familiar, stranger. Have we met before?"
Zayden was an instant away from saying "No" when his memories of arriving to Vvardenfell came rushing back in a great wave. "Yes…" Zayden replied. "We have met before, Caius. I was sent to your home months ago, by order of the Emperor."
Caius pondered this for a moment before his eyes glinted with recognition. "I do remember you! You were yet another prophecy hopeful. I sent you away to fulfil your own desires, not those of the empire. And so you have found yourself back here in Balmora?"
"I never really left."
"Zayden," Zeela cut in, "has only just become a blackcap for the Thieves Guild. I trained him for many months to become a racketeer. He is to be sent on his first job in three days."
"Truly? Well, this is a tale that I must hear. Come you two and sit with me! We have much to discuss."
Caius, Zeela, and Zayden sat at a table and the latter two began to recount the events of the past, beginning with her attempt to rob Zayden. Zeela told most of the story and Caius was quite content to remain silent and absorb every word of it. He seemed quite impressed with Zayden quickness in learning fighting, remarking that he believed he would have made a great member of the Fighters Guild. When the story was done, Zeela excused herself for an early night's rest and left the two men to themselves.
"I must say, Zayden," said Caius after left. "Seeing you again, as you now are, pleases me greatly. It reaffirms all that I have done these past months. You could not have known it then, but when I refused to send you out to your doom for that damn prophecy, I knew it was finally my time to make a change for the better. It was only a few days after we first met that I left the city for my journey north. Now to come back and to see you better than I left you!"
"Truth be told," said Zayden, "Zeela was the sole push for all this. I left you that day feeling hopeless and without purpose or direction. In all likelihood, were it not for her, I would be another drunk somewhere in the market, waiting for an end. She might have forced me down this path but, in the end, I am glad for it. I took it upon myself to find purpose and meaning in this new way of life, even if it is not ideal."
"Such is how most of us thrive in this world, Zayden. Some are able to press on and fulfil their dreams, and for them I am happy. But for the rest of us, dreams are not an option. Instead, we must make due with our lots in life and try to create happiness and purpose in it. Yes, Zeela is a remarkable woman. I have known her for years. She will make for you a great life companion."
Zayden chuckled at the old man's choice of words. "You make it sound like we are lovers, Cauis," he laughed. "Nothing could be further than the truth."
"Truly? I think not! You may not recognize it yet, Zayden, but she cares for you greatly. And I think you care for her as well."
"Of course I care for her. I owe everything to her."
"That is not what I mean and you know it! You will see, my friend. I've been around a lot longer than you. Love can come mysteriously at first, sometimes when you don't realize it. But you will. And when love is strong you will want for nothing else in this world, and you will do everything to keep it."
Caius stood up and said goodnight to Zayden, promising that he would return in a week to hear how well his first guild assignment went. Zayden returned to his small, empty quarters that night filled with unease of what this new future in the guild would bring. He knew, though, that he had friends to support him. He knew he had Zeela
[Author's Note] Sorry for the delay in posting. Computer trouble on my desktop stopped my progress for this chapter. Thankfully I had it saved on a tablet. Chapter 6 will have to be started over, however. I'll endeavor to post it in a more timely fashion.