Issana lifted her upturned cup slowly and peered at the dice beneath it. "Six fours."

Delvin watched her from across the table, eyes narrowed as he tried to read her expression. Cynric, on her right, glanced at her, then at Delvin, then at Vekel. "Four fives."

"Seven fives," said Delvin.

"Liar!" Vekel pointed an accusing finger at him. "Turn over."

All four of them took their cups off the table and Vekel examined the revealed dice. "I've got no fives, Issana's got two, Cynric has one, and you have… Damn it. Four."

Delvin grinned. "Seven fives, Vekel. Pay up."

Vekel reached into his pocket and pulled out seven coins. He slapped them onto the table in front of Delvin, who scooped them up and tucked them away. "Again."

Everyone brushed their dice into their cups and shook them vigorously before slamming them down on the table. They eyed each other suspiciously before peeking at their dice. Vekel leaned back. "Six fours."

Issana frowned and checked her dice again. "Nine fours."

Cynric stared at her. "No," he said at last. "You're lying."

Issana flipped over her cup, revealing four fours and a three. "Vekel?" she said.

Vekel removed his cup, showing a single four. Issana stared. "What? You said six fours with that?"

"Only seven fours!" Cynric exclaimed after he'd counted them. "Your turn to pay up, Issana!"

Issana grumbled in frustration and counted out nine Septims, dropping them into Cynric's palm. She glared at Vekel. "You played me."

Vekel shrugged. "You never could resist a challenge."

Delvin stood up. "Well, that's enough for me." He tossed a few coins towards Vekel. "Here's some of your money back. Get me an ale."

As Vekel followed Delvin, Issana glanced over at Cynric. "Well played. Buy me a drink?"

"Nope."

"Oh, come on. It's my money."

"Not anymore it's not."

"Come on, I bought everybody drinks when I got back from Goldenglow."

"That's because Maven Black-Briar-oh, I mean, our important client-pays very well."

Issana stifled a laugh. "Better not let Mercer catch you making fun of him."

"Hah, you think I could actually imitate him? I can't frown nearly hard enough."

Issana kicked his shin under the table. "Speak of the daedra…"

Cynric saw Mercer approaching as well. "And they shall appear."

Mercer stalked up towards them. He looked even grumpier than usual. "Issana."

"What is it?"

"Maven," said Mercer. "She asked for you by name."

Issana blinked. "She did? That's… unusual."

"She had this note sent to me." Mercer stuffed a piece of parchment in Issana's face. "It says nothing except to send you to her." He folded his arms. "I trust you'll inform us afterwards?"

Issana raised her eyebrows. "You think I'd cross Maven? If she wants to keep it a secret, there's nothing I can do about it. But don't worry," she added. "I'll make sure the Guild gets a cut."

"Good," said Mercer. "I'd hurry if I were you. That woman doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Black-Briar Manor towered over the nearby town. Three levels high, its walls were of elegant, dark wood and were framed with stone. Its roof, pointed and covered with smooth shingles, was adorned with two weathervanes and a finely shaped stone chimney, while the manor's mullioned windows were filled with glass panes that shimmered in the afternoon light. An immaculately kept garden encircled most of the house, split only by a single cobblestone path to the front door. Issana felt uncomfortably small as she raised her hand to knock.

The door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in well-made servant's attire. He frowned.

"Lady Maven's expecting me," Issana said.

The man gestured for her to enter. "I'll take your word for it. Nobody's foolish enough to make that up."

Issana gave a nervous laugh. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not lying, then."

"Yes, it is." The man closed the door without expression and led her towards the back of the house.

Issana couldn't help but stare. Every shelf was lined with expensive decorations, from golden candlesticks to fine ceramic urns and marble statues. Every surface was polished to a shine and every room had ornate, animal skin rugs spread across the floor.

It would a thief's paradise.

Maven Black-Briar stood with her hands clasped behind her back, regal clothing fitted perfectly to her shape, silver jewelry on her fingers and around her neck. Her black hair was tied elegantly back, the streaks of grey accentuating her sharp features instead of showing age. She did not turn.

"So you're the one I keep hearing about," Maven said slowly.

Issana hesitated. "I'm Issana, yes."

Maven unclasped her hands and turned towards her. There was something almost… powerful in the way she moved, and somehow graceful too.

For the first time in four years, Issana was intimidated.

"Well, at least you have the guts to speak to me," Maven said. "That's more than can be said for most people."

"I-uh-"

"Stop stammering," said Maven. "I didn't bring you hear for conversation."

Issana cleared her throat. "Then let's talk business."

"It's about time Brynjolf recruited someone with any degree of skill," Maven said. "I was beginning to think he was running some sort of beggars' guild over there."

"We get the job done."

"No, you get the job done," Maven corrected. "You and a handful of other names I hear once in awhile. Delwag, Dalvid, Delm-"

"Delvin."

"Whatever. You, him, and that silver-tongued whatever-his-name-is who keeps trying to charm me. Three of you keeping that rats' nest of a guild running."

"We're having some hard times, yes-"

"I don't want excuses, I want results," Maven said. "And I expect you to give them to me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Abundantly."

"Good," said Maven. "Then head to Whiterun. There's an inn called the Bannered Mare. You'll find a contact named Mallus Maccius-"

"White-wait-Whiterun?" Issana said incredulously. "That's three hundred miles away."

"I own several maps, girl. I don't need a geography lesson."

"I-" She wanted to say not a chance, but nobody got to say that to Maven Black-Briar. "I… That's weeks of travel."

Maven stared at her, unblinking.

Damn you. "I'll do it."

"Excellent."

"But," Issana said, "I'll need to be paid. Up front. Half."

Maven's brow twitched. "Are you bartering with me?"

Issana chose her words carefully. "I can't afford to travel that far. If you want the job done, you'll need to cover some of the expenses."

Maven regarded her with shrewd eyes. "Carrus!" she said suddenly. She snapped her fingers and the servant scuttled into the room. "Yes, Lady Maven?"

"Go down to the vault and bring me one of the bags on the left."

"At once, Milady."

Maven returned her stare to Issana. "You'll have your payment. Half now and half when the job is done."

Carrius returned a moment later with a bag about six inches in diameter. Maven grabbed it and tossed it to Issana. "That should get you there and back."

Issana's arm sank under the weight, and she opened up the bag to look inside. Red and green gemstones sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the window.

"You're lucky that your reputation precedes you, thief," said Maven. "Otherwise you'd have only my instructions, and not my wealth, to take with you."

"Lucky indeed," Issana agreed. "I'll find Mallus and get the job done."

"See to it that you do," said Maven. "I do not tolerate failure."

"Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not," Maven said with a smile. "I never worry. And if you get the job done right, you won't have to either."