"How'd you like to make a bit more coin?"
The glint in the man's eyes gave rise to a flare of fury in Veria's chest. Scowling, she tried again to tear her wrist from his grasp.
"I know what you're thinking," she growled. "I'm not a prostitute. Unhand me!"
The man laughed once and held up a defensive palm. "No, no, lass," he said. "Nothing like that." He released her wrist and she pocket the coins. Before she could take off, he continued, "I just mean you seem to know your way about the shadows. Why not humor me with a small wager?"

Frowning, Veria cocked an eyebrow at him. "What kind of wager?"
The man's smile persisted. What did he find so humorous? "No need to look so cross. It'll be fun."
Veria crossed her arms and waited impatiently for him to get to the point.
"I'll wager all the coin in my pocket that you can't pick Madesi's prized ring from under his jewelry stall without anyone noticing."
Veria huffed, "What, all two coins?"
"You think I keep all my septims in one pocket? Give me a bit more credit than that."

Veria turned from him and said, "I'm no thief. You're the one who stole from me."
The man's tone lowered, and he inched closer. "Come now, lass, do you really think all your work on the docks went unnoticed?" Veria whipped her head around to threaten him with a poisonous gaze, but he seemed unfazed. She scowled at him for a few long moments, until finally saying, "Which one is Madesi?"
He flipped the two coins from his pocket into the air and caught them expertly. "The Argonian. He sells jewelry in the marketplace. I'll create a small diversion. When he steps away, break into the strongbox under his stand." He took out two lockpicks and discreetly slipped them into Veria's hands. "Use those."

Veria's venomous eyes did not soften. "Who are you?" she asked.
With a smile, the man bowed his head slightly and said, "Just a humble merchant of magical cures. Best be on our way, lass. The light won't last forever."
Without another word, Veria went on ahead towards the marketplace. She walked casually around the outside of the town square, dissipating into the background noise of the city.
The 'merchant' entered the square soon after. "Everyone!" He shouted. "Gather 'round! I've got something amazing to show you!" He held up a large red bottle. The people of the marketplace drifted towards where he stood. Even the the Argonian left his shop, saying "What is it now, Brynjolf? Another one of your tricks?"
"Madesi, my friend, this is no trick! What I have here is an elixir with powers beyond imagination..." He went on, his words dripped with excitement and a few in the audience were in awe.

Meanwhile, Veria got to work. She moved in the moment Madesi's stand was vacant. She was swift and went as unnoticed as a shadow. The lockbox was no match for her; within moments she was slipping away from the scene, a small ring in her fist.
As she walked, she thought about how naturally lockpicking felt, even after all this time. Pickpocketing still needed work, and no doubt her technique with a dagger needed polish, but holding a pick in her fingers felt right, as if her hand was incomplete without one. Tulian had taught her how to pick her first lock, she remembered. Her fingers would not forget it so easily. At the thought of him, her chest felt heavy, and she shook her head to clear it. Now is not the time to feel grief, she thought. There was business to attend to.

When Veria handed the ring over he held it up the light with a smile. "Well done," he said. "You're better than I thought!"
They stood in an alley away from the dying light of day. Prying eyes wouldn't find them here.
"I think you owe me something," Veria said, arms crossed. He nodded and pulled a small pouch from a hidden pocket inside his blue robes. Veria weighed it in her hand.
"One hundred coins," he said, flicking the ring into the air and pocketing it. "Our transaction is complete. But maybe you'd be interested in making a bit more?"
Veria narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She considered him for a long moment. "What do you want?"
"Lass, I'm just trying to help. You see, I'm always on the lookout for talented individuals to...well, to help out around the house." At this, Veria raised an eyebrow. He continued, "You'd make ten times the amount you made today, and I promise it'll me more fun than swiping rings from Argonians." Veria remained silent, glaring at him. He waited for her respond.

Finally, she said, "Who are you?"
Smiling, the man offered his hand and said, "They call me Brynjolf." Veria took his hand but did not offer her name. "You don't have to decide right away, but the offer won't last forever."
"What kind of house do you run, Brynjolf?"
He released her hand and held up an index finger. "Ah," he said. "Now, that's for you to find out." He walked past Veria towards the street. As he passed, he said, "Go to the Ratway under Riften. If you can find your way to the inner cistern, you'll learn just what kind of house we run."
Veria sneered. "I never said I was interested," she said.

Brynjolf chuckled and said, "I know an interested party when I see one, lass. Deliberate if you must but don't take too long." He continued on his way. "I'll see you around, lass."
He turned the corner and was gone. Veria stood alone in the rapidly-chilling air and wondered. What kind of deal was this? Was it a setup? There was no way she could trust Brynjolf; she barely knew the man. However, the fact that he didn't pry Veria for her name indicated that he knew this. There was no doubting he was in the business of shadows. Whatever he was offering her would probably be a good fit. At the very least, it would be a good way to spend her time on while she worked on getting herself back together. Despite all the progress she made that day, she still felt incomplete and empty. She didn't have any real purpose. Maybe this job, or contract, or whatever it was, would be good for her.

Veria continued turning the issue over and around in her head, becoming increasingly aware of her exhaustion as it weighed down on her. She decided a night in the inn would probably help make up her mind, and headed for main street.

100 septims was more than enough for a night at the Bee and Barb. When Veria was shown to her room, she locked the door, lay down, and almost immediately slipped into a dream.

She floated on her back in a river that stretched out in every direction. The surface was smooth and glassy. Mist drifted around her, concealing any semblance of shoreline or sky. It was quiet, and the light was pale and colorless. She felt content and relaxed as she slowly drifted.
The wind picked up and chilled her skin. The glassy surface fractured, and an onslaught of waves suddenly overcame her. She tried to fight it, but she couldn't move. Then, very suddenly, she was pulled underwater into the blackness. She couldn't see the hands that pulled her down, but she could feel them grasping her on every limb.

Veria peered up towards the surface, desperate for a rescue. As of in response to her distress, a figure appeared above the surface. Her form was shifting and indistinct as it was distorted through the water, but Veria could make out the shape of a long dress and hair as it blew in the wind above the surface. The figure bent and from the watery veil came a thin, beautiful, pale hand. It reached down, grasped Veria, and pulled her to the surface.
As she broke the surface, she coughed and sputtered and cleared the water from her eyes. She blinked, and as her vision cleared there was no mysterious woman. Instead it was Brynjolf holding her hand and keeping her afloat.
She barely had time to register his face when she suddenly woke.

The room was dark, as there were no windows. When she cracked open the door she saw the morning was young. The dim light still held the blue shades of night, and it provided excellent cover as she slipped across the hall to the stairs. Without the innkeepers noticing she descended the stairs to the front door and slipped out to the street. The ignorance of strangers to her movements was a comfort.
The less that knew of her trip into the Ratway, the better.