AN: Special thanks to my beta, aquaphoenix. She is responsible for spotting my spelling mistakes. She's also responsible for the copious use of semi-colons throughout the chapter. :P
Imperial City Waterfront, Cyrodil, Heartfire 3E 431
Travellers to and from the city tended to stop at Wawnet inn, it being the first inn you came across on the way into the city, just before the huge stone bridge connecting the metropolis to the rest of the world. But now it was late in the afternoon, and the stream of customers had all but ceased. Behind the inn, Lettie sat on a wood-worm eaten chair, with a bucket held between her knees. She looked out over Lake Rumare; the Wayshrine of Julianos was faintly visible on the other side, and the rapidly setting sun was sending sparks over the rippling water. She should be getting home soon.
She glanced down at the bucket, and a recently killed slaughter-fish suspended in the water looked back at her. With her heavy jaw set in concentration, she laid her palms gingerly on the surface of the water and felt the gentle fizz of magicka, as she let a steady stream of frost-spell spill from her fingertips. It took a few minutes, but by the time she was done the water in the bucket was frozen solid, the slaughter-fish still staring out at her with huge, glassy eyes. She blew hard on her hands to get rid of the lingering ice crystals, and tipped the bucket upside down, leaving the large, irregular ice-cube with several others beside her.
This was her summer job – Aelwin Merowald, an aging fisherman, had realised he could wait until morning to sell a particularly large catch if he froze them overnight. Lettie, who even at that tender age could see her opportunity to make some gold, would sit for hours and freeze bucket after bucket of slaughter-fish. Aelwin appreciated it, as it gave him more time to catch the sneaky little things.
Lettie ambled over to the water, bucket in hand, and scooped up a fresh supply of water. She walked back to her seat, dropped a slaughter-fish into the bucket and started the whole ritual again. She must have performed it hundreds of times this summer, but contrary to what you might expect, she rarely found it boring. She relished the chance to just let her hands work away and to let her mind wander.
Granted, it never wandered into the territory of what you might call deep philosophical thought; she was only 11, after all. She mostly thought up hypothetical adventures; running away with pirates, fighting dragons, you know the sort. The closest to home her imaginings ever took her was to daydreams of that illusive, first proper heist.
One of these days, surely one of these days, Armand would come to her and say 'Lettie, we need to steal some rich bloke's magical heirloom, and your special skills make you the only girl for the job.' Oh, it would be heroic, dare-devil, perfect! She would elude tens of thousands of trained guards, sneak past all possible methods of security, crack open locks with liquid ease. And then, in the moment when she is just about to lay her hands on the expensive, no, priceless artefact, then she would know for sure that she was the best.
In the real world, the smile that was threatening to cut the top of her head off quickly vanished as she was snapped out of her child's reverie by Aelwin. He was heaving two more slaughter-fish off his boat and calling to her:
"This'll be the last batch today, love; sun's almost down. You'll want to get back to your brothers, yes?"
"Yeah, sure," Lettie got the last two done relatively quickly as Aelwin moored his boat. Just as he was about to go into the inn, he heard an indignant little cough behind him. Lettie was stood with one hand outstretched. Remembering with an 'Oh!', Aelwin fished around in his waders for his money pouch. He tipped out five gold into his rough hand and placed it into her young one. There was a pause, during which Letties hand remained stubbornly open, and her brown eyes remained fixed on his.
"Ah, I know that look," Aelwin chuckled to himself as he fished out another five coins, "Armand has taught you well."
Lettie considered saying 'Please, I teach myself,', but she knew not to push it. Besides, it wasn't true.
As she walked back along the bridge, she balanced along the brick wall like a tightrope walker. If her mother had been alive and here, Lettie was certain she would have cried out in panic at how perilously close she was to falling into the lake. At least, Lettie liked to think that she would have. It was the sort of things mothers ought to do.
Just then, she noticed another figure walking along the bridge, coming the other way, illuminated by the torches places at intervals along the bridge. She squinted in the dim light. The figure was tall, but there wasn't much of him. He had the thin, stretched look that came with having grown a lot in a short period of time. Lettie grinned; she recognised that ungainly trot. It was her brother, Florrie.
Florrie's real name was Florian, a good Breton name, however painfully difficult to shorten. Somehow, Florrie had ended up with quite possibly the only shortened version that was even more effeminate than Flo, and was having trouble getting rid of it.
"Hey there," Lettie said, looking down on him from the wall, "You looking for me?"
"'Course," Florrie replied, "Actually, Armand asked me to come and find you." Lettie's heart-rate cranked up a couple of notches. Could this be it?
"What about?" she asked in a voice she would have thought nonchalant, had she known the word.
"Well, Dovyn's thought up another endeavour," this was something of a code-phrase, among the thieves of the Waterfront, "Armand said you might be ready to come along."
What? Was that it?
"He didn't mention any particular reason, did he?" Lettie asked hopefully. Special skills, special skills, special skills...
"Not really," Florrie shrugged, "Marc's been saying that you ought to start sometime."
Oh well, it had been worth a try.
"Usual place?" she asked. Dareloth Gardens, Midnight. The meeting place and time was common knowledge among local thieves' guild members.
"Usual place," Florrie confirmed, "Come on, I'll walk back with you."
Lettie was woken by Florrie at a few minutes to midnight. By the time they arrived at Dareloth Gardens, Dovyn Aren and their brother Marc were already there. If the name doesn't give any indication, Dovyn was a Dunmer, and had been a member of the thieves' guild for over 40 years. He didn't live on the waterfront like Armand, but he never considered himself too high up to involve Waterfront dwellers in his heists. Marc had been his regular help almost since he and his younger siblings had arrived.
At 19, Marc was shorter yet than 14 year old Florrie, but was stockily built, which along with his dark hair, cut to about half an inch from his scalp, gave him an appearance reminiscent of a cannon ball. This appearance suited his general demeanour; if he saw any impediment to his happiness, or the happiness of his siblings, his tendency was to break noses first and ask questions later, if at all. It was for this reason that Florrie, despite his far-from-macho appearance, never had any trouble if his big brother might be around, to butt in and deal with the situation the cannon-ball way.
They exchanged a brief greeting, but then none of them spoke until Armand appeared, carrying a torch in one hand. He greeted them, then said: "Alright. Now that we're all assembled, I'll let Dovyn tell us about his plan." He glanced at Dovyn; there was respect there.
Dovyn stepped forward. His hair was grey, but the real indication of his age was in the creases in his features. His dark elf skin had lost its bluish tone of youth, but there was still an unmistakable spark in his eye. He glanced around the small group, and then spoke:
"This job is quite simple. There's a jewellery shop, been open for a few years now. The Red Diamond Jewellery, owned by one Hamlof Red-tooth." They all nodded, including Lettie. She'd always thought that 'Red Diamond' was a bit of a silly name. A red diamond was a ruby, wasn't it?
"I've already cased the place," Dovyn continued, "Most of the cabinets are easily opened with spells…"
"Well then, he's just asking for it," Lettie interrupted, excitement briefly getting the better of her, "He should know to have a key for everything." There was an awkward silence, and Lettie knew immediately that she'd said the wrong thing. A true thief shouldn't try and excuse themselves by implying it was the mark's fault.
Dovyn gave her a bemused glance, but continued without comment.
"As I was saying, I will be able to open most of them, but there are two that are key-only. Hamlof must keep the key in his private quarters."
This time is was Marc's turn to butt in: "Well, Lettie's the littlest here. And she's a good sneak – she can have a look for it." Armand raised an eyebrow, but turned to Dovyn for the verdict.
"Are you sure? Hamlof will be asleep in there."
Marc turned to Lettie, who nodded vigorously.
"Yes, I'm sure. I trust her."
Dovyn shrugged. His thoughts were pretty clear: If he wants to get his sister caught, why should I stop him? "So be it. Lettie can look for the key, and anything else that might fetch a good price," He pointed to Marc, "You can load the loot from the shop, maybe the basement as well," and then to Florrie, "You can cast a good detect life spell, yes? You stand watch." There was a murmur of agreement, then Armand spoke again.
"Well, it seems your plan doesn't break any of the guild rules. Hamlof is not a member of the guild, he's certainly not poor, and I assume," he cast a significant glare round the group, "that none of you intend to kill him. You have my approval."
"Ok, then," said Dovyn, "I have it on good authority – that is, that of one of the beggars in the market district - that Hamlof is late to bed most nights, so we'll meet at 1:00 am tomorrow night. Shadow hide you."
The group returned the salutation before departing. Lettie just got out of Armand's line of sight before high spirits took over. She laughed out loud, and cart-wheeled back to the shack where Erica was sleeping.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" She shook her until her sleep-mumbling gave way to half-muffled complaints.
"Wha's happening? S'there a fire?"
"Shut up!" Lettie exclaimed, still grinning, "I'm gonna be on a heist! A proper heist! I'm a proper thief now!"
Erica gave her a long, hard stare. "Good. Now go to bed."