Rain thundered down in the Rift. It beat a rhythm on the trees, spattering off the leaves and splashing into pools in the road. The midday sun was hidden behind clouds so thick it seemed like evening, clouds that seemed to mingle with the grey-white fog that blanketed the ground.
Issana could hardly keep track of time anymore. Two weeks she'd spent in Windhelm, most of them bed-bound. It had only been for the last few days of her stay that she'd been allowed to stretch her legs. Her wounds still hurt, but Quintus seemed to have done his job well.
But riding... Riding hurt. Every step of the horse jolted her, usually bearable but every once in awhile sending shards of pain stabbing through her. Karliah was taking it easy, but Issana suspected it was more out of kindness for the horse they both rode than for Issana herself.
She shifted awkwardly and hung onto Karliah tightly. The elf had hardly spoken as they'd rode south. When she had, it was terse, cold, little different from Mercer but at least without the sneers. But that was all Issana had expected. Karliah had made it pretty clear when they'd left Windhelm that she was baggage.
At this point, though, it just felt... normal. Like it just made sense that way. In a world like this, you didn't keep people around unless they had skills or some other use. She'd proven her worth to the Guild time and again with heists and other jobs, so of course they valued her, but to Mercer she'd turned out to be more useful dead. And to Karliah she was more useful alive. It all came down to usefulness.
Nothing personal.
It was a funny expression, one that she and other Guild members had used time and time again, often with a roguish smile at a job's hapless victim. Sorry I'm stealing all your jewelry. Nothing personal. Sorry I'm framing you to get you thrown in prison. Nothing personal.
What was it Brynjolf had said? Way back, when everything started: Do this right, and I can promise you a place in our organization.
And that was just the way it was. Brynjolf, Delvin, Rune, they all cared that she was useful.
Nothing personal.
I'm a set of skills. That's all. But you know what? There's nothing wrong with that.
Is there?