Chapter Twelve - Pushing Forward
Laure shifted slightly, moving slowly so as to not reveal her position. Uneasiness started to creep into her mind. Delphine was late; she should have been waiting here when Laure arrived. Sunset was approaching, and she had no desire to linger in the vicinity any longer than strictly needed. The embassy was sure to be swarming with angry Thalmor right now, all on the lookout for a certain antiques dealer from Cyrodiil. By now they would realize that had been a front, but investigation would lead to a maze of false fronts and dead ends. Not that she resembled that woman anymore, at least on the surface
Her now raven hair was braided and twisted, wound with feathers and beads of bird bone; dark green twists of warpaint curled over her face, and her Nightingale armor was securely tucked away, replaced with a sleeveless, hooded leather vest trimmed with fur. Fur-lined suede pants were tucked into tall leather boots. She looked every bit the Bosmer trapper, but any Wood Elf in the area would be subject to close scrutiny for a while to come.
The documents she had hidden on her person seemed to burn with a low, insistent heat, reminding her yet again how urgently she wanted to get rid of them. She watched another shift change in the guard; the regional carriage driver urged his horse up the hill and past the tiny farm Laurelin was concealed above. She knew her mate was quietly patrolling the surrounding area and had spent hours during the party laying down false trails to confuse those who were sure to be looking for her.
While she waited, Laure examined the small bone she had broken off the last dragon she had defeated. Emerging from the cave network that had provided her escape from the Thalmor Embassy, she had been flitting quietly down the hill with Malborn and a thief she'd freed, when the strident roar of the dovah sounded overhead. Etienne, the thief was a man she was vaguely familiar with, his work often keeping him in the field far from Riften. His relief at being rescued was prodigious; he couldn't say how long he had been captive, but it had been a long time since anyone had heard from him. She had given them each some gold and a weapon then, ordered the two men to get down the mountainside before the dragon's presence brought Thalmor mages down on them all as well.
She had led the monster on a merry chase, drawing it farther from Solitude before battling it on the northern shore of the sea. It was just her luck that after successfully escaping the embassy, a dragon had appeared to mark her out. Drawing it away to fight had been the only prudent thing she could do; she wanted as few people knowing the Dragonborn had been in the vicinity of the embassy at the time of the break in as possible.
She twirled the little bone between her fingers, wondering why she'd snapped it off the clawed foot in the first place. Perhaps she could have Farkas make a toothpick out of it. Movement on the road below caught her attention, and at last her patience was rewarded. Delphine, dressed as a farmer, sat down near the stables with a heavy sigh and whistled an off-key tune while digging in a tattered satchel.
When the coast was clear, Laure slipped down and around the back of the stables, hiding in the deep shadows. She slipped the packet of documents over the Breton woman's shoulder and they had a brief conversation, both women agreeing that Riften would be the next stop for the tired mer. Delphine thanked Laure and pushed to her feet, moving swiftly down the hill again and disappearing into the twilight. Laure waited a while longer and watched. No mysterious Thalmor agents appeared to follow.
Slowly moving away from the farm, she hoped Malborn and Etienne had gotten clear of the area already; lingering here was a bad idea. She waited several moments by the tiny fishing boat Vilkas had secreted away for them to use to cross the Karth river. He strolled up a few moments after, and quietly they pushed off, paddling quickly past Solitude and into the marshes.
"Were you successful, my love?" he finally asked in a low voice.
"Aye, in some ways. Are we going far? I'm famished." Now the copies she had made in Elenwen's solar seemed to be burning a line of fire down her back, through the heavy leather of the satchel, through her armor.
"Camp is not far away; Lydia is waiting there. We'll rest a short while, then get moving again if you're up to it."
"Sounds fine by me." They lapsed back into silence while Vilkas rowed them farther inland past small rounded hillocks poking up out of the brackish water. Laure guessed them to be a few miles northeast of Morthal when they pulled the little skiff out of the water and concealed it in the brush lining the shore. Laure could smell the horses not far away and was glad Vilkas had thought to bring them. Soon she and her mate were eating a cold repast of cheese and dried meat while she filled Lydia in on the next stage of the journey. Vilkas would return to Solitude for a few days, complete the "furnishing" of Proudspire, then make his way home to Whiterun. Meanwhile, Laure and Lydia would be riding swiftly to Riften. It was now imperative that she get her face returned to its original features, as well as to locate a man the Thalmor eagerly sought themselves.
Laure thought she had an idea where to find this man, but if it was truly him, it would take all her skills of persuasion to get him to leave the Ratway's lower warrens. There was always the amulet she hardly ever wore. It felt like cheating. Cheating or no, the Amulet of Articulation she had been gifted with years ago might be useful, and it just so happened that a few days ago she had discovered it hidden in a pouch with her Nightingale armor. Bryn had proven once more to be a thoughtful planner; it had been dead useful when chatting up the attendees of Ambassador Elenwen's party.
She and Vilkas rested together a few hours, both tired enough that they just held each other tightly. Lydia kept watch a few hours, then softly called out, "Midnight approaches my thane; do you wish to ride out still?"
"No," came the muffled reply. "I'll be right out, though." Laure and Vilkas soon backed out of their little tent and began bundling it up. When all was packed and loaded, Lydia looked away as her thane kissed her mate goodbye.
Vilkas took both her hands and pressed her fingers to his lips, then pulled her flush up against his body. "Be safe love, and I'll see you soon." He cupped her face and drew her in for one final kiss before relinquishing his hold on her regretfully.
"Never soon enough." Forcing herself to move, Laure pulled away and mounted Roast, turning the mare's head toward Riften, Lydia following right behind. Vilkas watched the two women disappear into the darkness, and when they were finally beyond his hearing and sight, he turned and mounted his own horse, heading slowly back up to Solitude and a big empty house.
Lydia and Laure limped into Honeyside late the next day and headed straight for the kitchens, dropping armor and satchels along the way. Iona ran to the market to fetch a few more bottles of mead, fresh cheese and meat, while the other two women cleaned up and foraged.
Before long they were scrubbed, fed, and had changed clothes. Laure sent Iona down into the Ratway, bearing a message to Bryn. The tall Bosmer planned on waiting until dark to head down to the Flagon but wanted to warn Bryn about a few details before she made her way down. When Iona returned shortly after, her wide eyes and set jaw alerted Laure something was wrong.
"My thane, Bryn says to get your arse down there as soon as possible – a whole group of Thalmor have been wandering the Ratway for hours looking for someone."
"Fuck me sideways, how did they get here so bleeding fast? Lydia, stay here with Iona. I'll be back later. If not, tell Vilkas I love him, and Breezehome is yours. Same to you Iona; Honeyside is yours if I don't come back." With that, Laure donned a hooded cloak and slipped out the front door. Iona and Lydia sat down at the table to wait anxiously for the return of the woman they had both sworn to protect.
Laure slid through the long shadows of late afternoon, moving silently and undetected by everyone. Before long she was splashing down the short tunnel to the ladder dropping into the cistern, stopping to listen carefully, but all she heard was an ominous silence. Descending, she discovered the entire place empty. She crossed to the shrine of Nocturnal and hastily said a few prayers, feeling the warm tingling of her mistress's blessings wash over her. She dashed to the door into the Flagon, took a deep breath and pulled it open slightly, letting a faint breeze through. Sure enough, the scent of the agents sent by the Aldmeri Dominion was heavy on the air. Stealthily she crept through and peeked into the underground tavern. The members of her guild were all there, some pacing, some drinking, others staring at the two portals leading out. There was no immediate sign of the tall, golden-skinned mer, so she edged out, slipped around a few of her friends and made directly for Galathil.
A few hushed spoken words, and the Bosmer women moved deeper into the shadows of the back room. Bryn joined a few seconds later and they had a hushed conference while Galathil swiftly went about returning Laure's face to it's original features.
Bryn was livid. He didn't like it when intruders came into the domain of the thieves and started making trouble. And the Thalmor were trouble in the highest degree. "What in Oblivion is going on here, lass? Two hours ago a dozen of the snooty bastards barged in here, asking questions, making threats. Are they after you?
"Yes and no. They're after the crazy guy who lives down in the lower warrens, you know the paranoid one who comes up once a month for supplies. They want him because they think he might know who is responsible for the dragons coming back."
"Ridiculous, what would that codger know about dragons?"
"Apparently he wasn't always a crazy codger. Have they found him yet? It's crucial that I get to him and get him out of here."
"No, I sent them to investigate a few of the disused tunnels and warrens. Go now, take a few of the lads and I'll try to keep them off your arse." Galathil finished her task and stepped back, producing a mirror. Laure glanced in and saw her old face staring back at her.
"Excellent, thank you. Here, for your silence." Laure dropped and small pouch filled with diamonds into the other woman's hand. Then she stood on tip-toe and let her lips brush Bryn's for an instant. "Thank you, as well. Can you have Iona send Lydia out to Nightingale Hall with the horses and our gear? We'll need to ride as soon as we get this loon out. If I can."
"Of course, anything else?"
"Just keep them busy long enough for me to get clear."
"My pleasure. Send word soon, so we don't worry ourselves sick."
"I will; keep you and the lads safe, aye?"
"Always do lass, always do. Go on, get."
Laure ducked away and headed deeper into the Ratway, grabbing Rune, and Cynric, and Ravyn Imyan, the Dunmer former member of the Morag Tong assassins guild. They spread out in front of her, searching and clearing each tunnel. It was sweet, she thought, but unnecessary. Her wolf senses, Nightingale abilities and Thu'um gave her clear advantages. Still, they wanted to feel useful and involved, and it was a relief to know she had someone looking out for her. They avoided several patrols of Thalmor, moving deeper and deeper, until Laure knew they were approaching the area the man lived.
Finally tapping on the solid door, she called out softly, "Esbern, I need to talk to you; please a moment of your time?" Part of her was amused that the crazy hermit she had known of for years was the very man Delphine and the Thalmor sought. He was a paranoid old recluse, known only to a few who saw him when he made infrequent forays up to the Flagon for supplies. He would listen eagerly to any news offered but never gave any information about himself. After he gathered his goods, he disappeared for another cycle of the moons. How he supported himself, Laure didn't want to know.
She glanced over her shoulder. She had left the lads hidden nearby to keep lookout, but she hoped to be in and out in a few moments. What followed in actuality was a teeth-grinding exercise in patience for her. He finally slid open a small viewing hole and examined her closely, petulantly asking, "What do you want? I paid my rents."
"You are Esbern?"
"No, I've never heard of this Esbern. Leave me alone." He moved to close the tiny window but Laure stopped him.
"Esbern, Delphine sent me. You are in dire peril, and we need to get you out of here right away; there are Thalmor looking for you this very moment!"
"Thalmor? Delphine? Who are you? Why did you lead them to me? Leave me be! Oh this is terrible!"
"Listen to me, Delphine just found out you are alive and asked me to come get you. We need your help; she says you know all about dragons and Alduin. I can explain the rest once we'reout of here!"
The old man blinked and coughed a little. "Alduin, did you say? How do you know this name?"
"I've been fighting dragons for a while now. I'm the Dragonborn, Esbern, and we need to get you out of here before the Thalmor. Will you please come with me, and I'll take you to Delphine?"
"How do I know you aren't an agent of the Thalmor sent to lure me out of my home?"
"Delphine told me to ask, "Where were you on the thirtieth of Frostfall?" Laure watched his face contort through a range of emotion as he choked back an exclamation. Suddenly it hardened and the daft, wandering expression he'd worn before was gone, replaced by determination. The tiny window closed, and then began the minutes-long ordeal of him unbolting and unchaining the numerous locks that kept him secure. His rambling, heard clearly through the door thanks to her wolfish senses, did little however to reassure her this man was sane. Finally she was being hurried through the door into a single "L" shaped room, accessed only through the reinforced door she had just come through. While Esbern hastily relocked himself in, she took it all in, noting his desk, covered with books and parchments, the unused-looking bed, years of journals, and random bits of scholarly refuse. She hoped he didn't need to pack it all up.
He turned immediately to his desk and pushed a few tomes and papers into his satchel, locked everything else up in a small chest, and grabbed a staff and a hooded cloak while he rambled on. "I've spent years trying to warn people that Alduin would return, but I was ridiculed and mocked. Sadly, I now wish I had been wrong. Perhaps we might still turn things around. Delphine, still alive! Let us go, I need to speak with her immediately." They quietly undid the locks and bolts once more. Laure slipped out first, subtly sniffing. The Thalmor were closer and moving swiftly now.
Her lads were already moving, one of them splashing loudly away in the other direction she had told them she would take to get out. Several agents pursued, but Laure didn't worry. The Thalmor were unfamiliar with the sewers, and her Guild mates all knew these fetid, stinking tunnels better than their own mothers. Not to mention they were all regularly equipped with potions of invisibility, paralysis and sleep poisons, illusion spells and dozens of secret bolt-holes. They would draw as many of the intruding Thalmor agents away as possible, then go to ground for a while in any number of safe houses set up around town and through the docks and sewers.
Laure moved swiftly, taking them up to an infrequently used hole in the ceiling, and boosted Esbern up. When he had scrambled up, she nimbly scampered up after; then they set off once more. Several times they did this, avoiding another patrol by a painfully narrow margin. Several times Laurelin used the skeevers that lurked here and there as diversions, sending small packs of them up to ambush and distract groups of Thalmor that were too close. Finally they stood at the back door leading into the Flagon, but Laure didn't push through.
Esbern moved to open it, but her arm shot out, barring the way. "Sshh, they are in there questioning some of the lads. This way." She led him a short distance away, then gave him another boost up.
"What place is this?"
"The secret entrance to the old Guildmaster's house. Follow me closely; there are traps."
"Two double brandies please."
"Where's your man?" Orgnar wanted to know as he poured Laurelin's drinks.
"On his way, he should be here soon. How's business?"
"Same as it always is. Who's that with Delphine?"
"An old friend of hers. Thanks," she replied as her brandy was slid over the counter. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Delphine and Esbern embrace for a moment then move closer to the fire, heads close together as they talked quietly. Soon the two former Blades and the Dragonborn were in conference downstairs. Vilkas came down a short time later and leaned against the wall near Laure, quietly listening to Esbern.
At one point in the long discussion, Vilkas slipped upstairs and came back with a tray of food for Laure and himself, and they snacked while asking all the questions they could. By now they were discussing where to go next. Laure was only marginally dismayed that they needed to delve deep into Forsworn territory, over in the Reach. It felt good to finally be getting a few leads and not feel as though she was fumbling about in the dark – with a blindfold on, no less. The tray was empty, and so was Laure's store of ready questions.
Laure and Vilkas left after agreeing to meet Delphine and Esbern in the Reach in a week, leaving the two old friends chatting downstairs. They mounted their horses and cantered toward Whiterun.
"It's good to see you again. With your old face. Rather, with your usual features. I'm glad you changed it back."
Awww, love, you sounded so much like Farkas there! "Hmm, I like my face this way; I'm in no hurry to permanently alter it." She lapsed into silence for a few moments, thinking. "Are you tired of being dragged all over Skyrim with me, love?" she finally asked as they wound their way down and onto the plain.
"Never. Why do you ask?"
"I realized this week that the assumptions I sometimes make on behalf of other people aren't always in line with what they want or think. And I'm not always the only one who suffers for it."
"If I ever need a rest from it all, I will tell you, never fear. I love being with you; everywhere you go, I would follow, if you but allow it." He paused a moment then cautiously asked, "Where you able to resolve things with Brynjolf?"
"Aye, I was. He needed time to adjust, and when we talked, I realized that I held him at arms length for both our sake—or so I thought. As it turns out, it was just for mine."
"From what you told me of the nature of your relationship, he had no reason to expect what he did."
"I don't think it was an expectation really. He had every reason to believe I would always be there, and I never tried to disabuse him of the notion. In truth, I thought I would stay longer, up until Alduin attacked Helgen. Even after, I kept thinking somehow I might be able to juggle it all."
"Do you really like being a thief so much?"
"It has its moments. I love the game. In many ways, it's like hunting. Know your quarry, stalk it; sometimes we played such long cons they were months and months in the making, and we had to be so very patient and discrete. Setting up contacts, who can you trust, did we pay them enough? There is an undeniable thrill that comes when a job is successful and payday comes. It's just-it's a high that reminds me of first blood on a kill."
Vilkas listened to her as she spoke, watched her out of the corner of his eye, the way her eyes sparkled with excitement, realized she truly did love her other profession, and if she devoted as much energy to her abilities as a thief as she did as a warrior, always seeking excellence, she must be a remarkable thief. He had seen the way she skillfully teased even the most complex locks open; she looked right at home, with one ear cocked toward the chest or door she was working on, eyes half closed as she used slow, tiny movements to tickle it open. She almost never triggered traps, seemed to sense precisely where one would be, and she would either disarm it or carefully guide them safely past.
"You are an exceptional hunter; why start thieving in the first place?"
"As much as I would like to tell you I only did it to survive, that wouldn't be the truth. The first time I stole something, I was pissed. To get back at someone, I stole something from his cart later. The fear of being caught, the thrill of getting one over on a complete ass and not getting caught-it was fun. Sorry it's not more noble."
"How can you be so flip when speaking about robbing people of their valuables? There is no honor in it," he gritted out through barely parted lips.
"Vilkas, I don't expect you to know the inner workings of the Guild, but we regulate our members. Targets are carefully selected, we don't rob any poor folk-frankly it isn't worth the time and risk of being caught. Even before I became the head of the Guild, we tried to make sure the hit was quiet, quick and clean. To shed blood on a job was and still is cause for severe punishment, unless we receive specific permission to defend ourselves. Rogue thieves who don't hold to our code are hunted down and eliminated. It may sound cut-throat, and in some ways it was, I won't lie. But like I said, we are careful, and believe it or not, much of the information we steal ends up benefiting the whole of Skyrim. I wish you could understand it's different now."
"I find that hard to believe. You paint a pretty enough picture, honorable thieves, but the Guild still seems hardly better than the bandits we eliminate."
"Which would you rather lose, your purse or your life? Thieves of the Guild will gladly relieve you of one if you are dense enough to wave it around or take on airs of superiority. But we leave you with your life, as long as you realize the value of that. None of us want to kill you, but like any cornered animal, man and Mer will all fight for their life if forced. I don't see how stealing a man's gold is worse than taking his life, which is what you and I do. Yes, they are bad people. Or maybe more of them are like Keiran. Hopeless, misguided, feeling like there was nothing else left..."
"What are you getting at?" Vilkas exclaimed in desperate frustration, raking his fingers irritably through his hair.
"Damn it! I don't know; perhaps you shouldn't judge all thieves the same. It's much like saying all Nords are giant, mead-swilling brawlers with no brains. Or all Mer are um, well I guess all the Mer are pretty different. You understand what my point is, I'm sure."
"I do. It doesn't mean I agree, but can we finish this later? We're almost home, and I have no wish to argue with you."
"Of course. What should we do for supper, I could eat a whole deer right now."
"Farkas and everyone else would love to see you; it's been a while. If you're up for it, that is."
"Sounds wonderful. Lydia made it back safely, I take it."
"Safe and muttering about being made into a pack mule."
"Well, I figure it's time to move a few of my things from Riften. Whiterun is where my home usually is."
"Usually?" he quirked an eyebrow up curiously.
"Well, there's that old saying that home is where the heart is; and my heart is with you, you're from Whiterun, and it's where you usually are, so that's where my home usually is-"
"Sometimes you are completely ridiculous."
"You love me for it though."
"Among other things. You are a perplexing creature, and I'm sure if I lived to be one hundred and fifty years old, I could never say I always understood you. Now, lets get our arses up to Jorrvaskr before that giant brother of mine eats everything, shall we?" They walked up through Whiterun hand in hand, steps falling rhythmically together, Vilkas listening while Laure discussed a collection of rare books she had heard was on the market. He felt hopeful when she mentioned hoping to bring the dealers price down. At least she was planning to pay for them. Small comfort, but he would take it.