In truth, I didn't have to worry about the guards as much as I thought I did. They were too busy covering up the incident that had just occurred to look for a lowly Bosmer who probably had no more than a 40 gold bounty. For some reason, they were going to great lengths to cover that the murderer was a Forsworn agent. To their credit, they had successfully managed to convince people – or have people say they were convinced – that the miner was just a raving lunatic, but they hadn't convinced me, and they definitely hadn't convinced the man who'd slipped me the note either. I know what I heard, and as a thief, I trusted nothing more than my own senses.
By the time I deemed it appropriate to make my way to the Shrine of Talos, the sun was already setting in the sky. I must have left the Temple of Dibella much later in the day than I'd previously thought. Not that I was complaining, of course. If there was any time of day to do some good sneaking it was when the shadows were longest, and after the effort the man had gone through to get me that note, I figured I'd return the gesture with equal caution.
"You came," the man said as I opened the door to the shrine, rushing to greet me. "I knew you'd come."
The relief in his voice said otherwise. I remained silent, making sure the door was closed behind us. I had to wait a few moments for my eyes to adjust before following the man to the center of the building where a formidable shrine to Talos with his mighty war hammer was brightly illuminated. The shadows cast by the fire at his feet flickered and danced across his stony mail.
Having lived in Skyrim for most of my life, I knew the legend of Tiber Septim, who was known as Heir to the Seat of Sundered Kings, Ysmir, the Dragon of the North, and Dragonborn; he who had conquered all of Tamriel and ushered in the Third Era as well as the Third Empire, and ascended to godhood as the Ninth Divine.
A sense of unanticipated awkwardness crept up on me as I encroached on his territory. Like much of Skyrim, I had stopped worshipping Talos after the Empire had agreed to the White-Gold Concordat, more for the safety of my own hide than anything else. I wasn't going to risk my life with the Thalmor stamping out Talos worship as if it was a tumour in Tamriel's side.
"I'm glad you're here. My name is Eltrys," the Breton said, his back turned away from the candles so that his face was shrouded in shadows. I kept my features carefully blank as he paused, probably waiting for me to tell him my name as well, but I wasn't ready to divulge any information quite yet.
Even through the shadows I could see his soft brown eyes pleading with me again. I cursed my conscience silently, wishing the room was a little darker. "I'm sorry to drag you into Markarth's problems, but after that attack in the market, I'm running out of time, and I really need help."
There was an extended second of silence before I finally spoke.
"Why me?" I asked, a simple question to begin with.
"Because you're an outsider, and because I saw what you did with that bow," said Eltrys quickly, folding his arms over his broad chest and leaning against a nearby pillar. "I've been stuck neck-deep in this mess for far too long. The guards are wary of where I stick my nose now, but I think you have the skills to help me. I just have this... feeling."
This feeling? I quirked an eyebrow.
"I'm not exactly on the good side of the city guard either," I said, rubbing my wrist at the memory.
"Whatever you've done, you're still better in their books than I am," he said with a humourless laugh. "Trust me on that, friend."
"No," I interjected immediately, irrationally irritated at the the familiar tone he had suddenly switched to. All at once, I felt all the stress of the day, from my killer hangover, to discovering my alcohol induced amnesia, to almost getting arrested, to witnessing a murder, and finally to being here instead of Rorikstead, well up inside me. "I am not your friend. You see, I don't trust you. I don't trust you, I don't trust the guards – I don't even trust the ground I set my feet on in this gods forsaken city."
My anger bubbled, but Eltrys seemed to sense that none of my anger was directed at him. I was the only one to blame for where I stood now. My throat tightened at my shame, and the volume of my voice rose to keep it from cracking.
"I should be half way to Rorikstead by now instead of talking to you," I pointed at him accusingly. "You and your honeyed words and pleading eyes. Instead, I'm still in this damnable city, and the worst part is not that I can't leave, it's that, for some unfathomable reason, I won't. So stop making me pry for answers, and say what you want to say so I can make up my mind and put this place far behind me."
My voice echoed in the stone building in the long silence that followed. My anger was almost instantaneously replaced by shame as I realized just how much the days' events had shaken me. I half turned away with new appreciation of the word mortified, wrapping my lean arms around me in embarrassment at my outburst. Not even some of the Guild members had seen me as wired as this.
What's wrong with me? I thought as the uncomfortable silence enveloped us. I can't get wrapped up in this. I have to go back to Riften.
I jumped as his hand found my shoulder, and he faltered as if dealing with a wounded animal. I felt sorry that I had just taken out my frustration on him.
"This all started when I was a boy," Eltrys began again quietly and cautiously, resuming his previous position against the pillar. "My father owned one of the mines, a rare feat for anyone who isn't a Nord. Did a good job of running it too. And then he was killed. Gone from my life forever, just like that. The guards said it was just a madman, but everyone knew the murderer was a member of the Forsworn. I continued my investigations, but nothing but body after bloody body turned up"
I wasn't sure what to say, so I said nothing. He took that as a sign to continue.
"And then I got married to a beautiful woman," he said, mouth curling in the slightest smile. "And it was the happiest day of my life. I have a child of my own on the way. I swore I was going to just give this up, for my child's sake, but I can't. Every time I try to let it go, it's like my father's ghost is haunting me. Asking me 'Why? Why, Eltrys?'
"He wants answers, you want answers, I want answers..." Eltrys continued, smile dropping as his voice took on a harder edge. "Well, so does everyone else in this city. A man goes crazy in the market today. Everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent, and the guards do nothing. Nothing but clean up the mess, exactly the same as when my father was murdered."
I had had a feeling this was where this would lead, and I stared at him in dismay. "You want me to find out why." A statement, not a question.
"This has been going on for years, and all I've been able to find is murder and blood," he said passionately. "I really need your help."
"You realize that you're asking me to risk my life so you don't have to?"
"Look." I could tell he was getting desperate now. "You said you didn't trust me, and that's fine. I don't need you to trust me. I realize this is dangerous work, and I don't need you to be doing me any favors. If you do this, I'll pay you, and I'll pay you handsomely."
If I was a Khajiit, my ears would have perked up. I remained silent, but I couldn't help the twinkle in my eyes that shone in the flickering candle light at the prospect of gold.
"Please. You find out why that woman was attacked and who's behind Weylin and the Forsworn, and I'll pay you for any information you bring me."
"Who's Weylin?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"He was the murderer. One of the smelt workers down in the Warrens, if I remember correctly. Used to have a job down there myself, casting silver ingots."
"And the woman?"
"Her name was Margret. An outsider like yourself staying at the Silver-Blood Inn." There was another brief pause. "...Does this mean you'll help me?"
I mulled it over for a few moments. If I returned to the Guild with gold in hand, maybe Delvin wouldn't be so mad at me. All Eltrys was really asking me to do was gather information on two measly people. I was a thief; I did sneaky stuff like this for a living, except this time instead of swiping some jewels from a house, he was asking me to swipe evidence.
"How much gold are we talking about here?"
"Enough to make it worth your while and more," he answered vaguely, cocking his head in confusion at my new attitude, though he kept his questions to himself.
For the first time since I took that bottle from Sam at the Bee and Barb I felt like I had found my footing again. The Silver-Bloods dealt in blood and silver, but I dealt in shadows and secrecy. I wasn't some meek milk-drinker who panicked after witnessing a murder by some crazed Breton bandit. I was a thief, and a damn good one too. If it was information my new client wanted, it was information he was going to get, even if he was unaware of who he had just hired.
And maybe the Guild will be quicker to forgive me if I come back with pockets full of gold.
There was no denying my nature. Riches called to me like Sovngarde called to the souls of dead Nords.
I nodded my consent.
"Great!" he exclaimed. He looked as if he were about to clasp my hands in gratitude, but he quickly caught himself, and ran his hands through his hair instead. He suddenly seemed to remember something and excitedly began to search his pockets. "It's probably getting dark right about now, so as part of you payment I can pay for your stay at the Silver-Blood Inn tonight. While you stay there, you can probably ask around about Margret too. The inn keeper should..."
He trailed off when he noticed I was shaking my head.
"It's okay, you can give me the money for that when I bring you some evidence. I do my best 'sleuthing' at night," I grinned, wondering if he'd catch my drift, but my implications at my line of work just flew over his head. Despite all the day's events, I wasn't feeling tired in the slightest, probably due to my sleeping through the afternoon and the knowledge that the Thief constellation would be bright in the sky.
"You're going to start now?" He looked at me in disbelief.
"Aye," I said. "The sooner this is over the better. For both of us."
He appraised me for a moment, his eyes studying my angular elvish face for something, and I shifted under his scrutiny. Having your features memorized by someone was not generally something a thief let you do.
"Truer words have never been spoken," he finally said again. "In that case, I'll stay here. It would seem suspicious if you reported to my house and well..."
It wasn't hard to discern where he was coming from. He had a pregnant wife at home, and, if the Markarth city guard was truly as against this investigation as I had been lead to believe, then reporting to Etrys's home would not only be dangerous for us, but for his loved ones too.
"Understood," I said, making to leave, but stopped as the Breton started to speak again.
"Wait, um..." Eltrys hesitated, and I realized I still hadn't given him my name.
"Kasha," I offered.
"Kasha. Before you go, please take this anyways." He withdrew his hand from his pocket and threw something my way, but I couldn't distinguish what it was through the darkness. "Think of it as a down payment."
My heart raced at the lyrical chiming of septims as I deftly caught the silhouette of a coin bag. It seemed like an era ago since the last time I'd listened to the jingle of coins, and if there was ever a more beautiful noise, I'd never heard it. I nodded my gratitude at the Breton, shaking the cloth purse one more time for good luck as I slipped it into one of my pockets, beaming at the comfort of the added weight.
I turned towards the door, tucking my auburn hair behind my pointed ears and pulling my hood up low over my head so that my golden eyes gleamed like a sabertooth's from under the dark veil provided by my cowl.
"Be careful who you talk to," he warned quietly as I opened the door to the shrine.
I paused in the doorway, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him, simply slipping silently out the heavy metal doors, eager for Nocturnal to guide me in the protective embrace of her shadows.