A/N: As I may have mentioned previously, this is a warm-up and character study, for which I picked a familiar mission.
Lesson Number One- Don't Trust a Criminal
Léta always thought that Solitude was a beautiful city, in its own way. High buildings and cobbled streets reminded her vaguely of the Imperial City. If anyone who didn't know her asked about it, though, she would smile and spin you a tale on how it was home away from Cyrodil and that if she closed her eyes she could pretend she was still in the Imperial City.
In reality, she held no such sentiment. She simply found the capital to be more like an actual city rather than an overgrown village with walls like most of the other strongholds. Solitude, like it's cousin in Cyrodiil, was favored by many assassins and thieves for its little alleys, and the manholes that led into the sewers, the dark shadows of the torches during nighttime and the hundreds of different ways of getting outside the walls without notice. The houses were easily scaled, and the tiled roofs provided good support. Not to mention the walkways of city walls themselves… Remembering the little race against the city guards after the assassination of Vittoria Vici still gave the woman a thrill.
The city also had its own share of shady characters, and that meant that not many people looked closely to the cloaked woman sitting at the farthest corner table of the Winking Skeever. She sat with her back at the wall, facing the entire room, which was a professional habit that was almost like a calling card of seasoned criminals.
"Come to check up on me?" Nazir's mouth barely moved when he sat down at the table next to her. Not that anyone would overhear them amidst the usual chaos of the tavern.
"How did you know I was in Solitude?" she smiled under her hood.
"Your horse is scaring the locals at the stable, and the Skeever is the only inn in the city. What the hell are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same thing. You were supposed to meet with the client four days ago. I would have figured you got back to the sanctuary to boast about a job well done."
"I got held up. Are you going to answer my question?"
There was a coin playing in her hand. "Thalmor Embassy. I need to get in, as quickly as possible."
"You have a remarkable sense for timing," he glanced at her with curiosity. "My target is going to be attending a party there. Actually, the conditions were very specific for tonight. "
"That so?" the coin faltered and hid back in her pocket, and she looked up at him. "How?"
"The Thalmor Embassy is usually locked up tighter than the Emperor's concubines." Nazir elaborated. "No one comes in without invitation. Luckily, our client was smart enough to know that, and secured one. For tonight, my name is Alamand, an ambassador of one sort or another."
"Don't suppose you can get me inside?"
"Not officially. But I did have a plan that might work out in your favor… Come along, I'll show you."
To say that Voar was uncomfortable was to say nothing. The clothes likely looked just as out of place on him as they felt in contrast to his armor. By Oblivion, even Delphine looked as though she was trying to suppress a fit of laughter, looking over him.
"Oh, I suppose it will have to do. You should at least pass for a guest… until you open your mouth, anyway."
"This better be worth it," he growled.
"Don't worry, you'll be back in your armor soon enough," the woman assured him. "Now, you better get going. That carriage will take you straight to the party… Try to get out in one piece, will you?"
"Dare you even doubt," he calmed down somewhat, though he still pouted like a frustrated child, but followed her instruction and climbed inside the carriage. The driver glanced back and nodded at him in greeting, and a few moments later, the horses sneered and began to move.
The road was bumpy despite the cobble, though at the very least he didn't clank and jingle with every start. He leaned back onto the side of the carriage, already bored. He could have at least walked there- sitting immobile for the time it would take them to get there was almost painful.
Movement along the road.
Voar tilted his head. Yes, there was definitely someone moving at the slow speed of the carriage. His eyebrows furrowed. Travelers didn't usually walk off roads, so this one was definitely following them.
The mystery didn't last for too long, though. The shadow separated from the trees , and before he could react, it grasped the edge of the carriage and swung inside.
Voar grasped for his sword, only to remember that he gave that to Malborn. His second instinct was to punch the attacker, but the black person dodged the attack easily, though didn't try anything itself.
It was a woman, Voar realized a second later, clad in thin and black armor with a mask and a low hood obscuring her face.
"Well aren't you just a bear of a man," she muttered quietly. "Calm down, I've got no quarrel with you."
He looked over to the driver, but the man continued to whistle under his breath as though nothing has happened.
Damn it, he knew it smelt like a trap. He considered jumping out of the carriage- it was moving slowly enough for a woman to climb inside, so a tumble off of it would be too hard…
"Don't worry about him," she waved her hand, getting comfortable on her respective seat. "He's has no idea I'm here."
A mage, then. Even worse. Voar disliked mages- mainly because he respected and feared them, and fearing something made him cranky.
"You're not attacking. What do you want?" he asked bluntly.
"This wasn't my idea, I assure you," somewhere in the deep shadow of her hood, she must have rolled her eyes. "Look, the Thalmor do nasty business, and you're not the only one that wants to put salt in their tea. I'm simply going to borrow this space until we get inside the courtyard."
"Why should I not just throw you off now, then?"
"Huh? Didn't I say? Oh, right, I didn't- well, we know you have some sort of business of the shadier sort there, as well…"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he cut her off, liking the situation more and more. By the way she talked, she herself was likely "of the shadier sort".
She tilted her head. "It's a nice plan, you know. Get into the Embassy with an invitation, get away from the party, do what you must… But how do you expect to get anywhere? The guards there don't sleep, and you seem like the type to bash heads first, get killed a second later. And even then, are you going to break the door of the office down?"
"Do you have a point?" he asked impatiently. So much for Delphine's plans…
"I'm offering a simple deal- you let me stay in the carriage, I'll clear the way for you."
"Why take such a risk just to rob the place?" he snorted.
She seemed to contemplate something for a moment, and then shrugged. "They're holding my brother captive in their dungeons."
"Oh…" He didn't expect that. "Why are they holding him there?"
"Something about some man they're looking for," there was a trace of anger in her voice. "Look, take the deal or no. We just thought it would be easier to pull this off without bumping into each other in the shadows."
"Who are "we"?" he continued to question.
"Such suspicions, and all I ask is a spare seat for twenty minutes…"
"I don't trust anyone who's face I can't see," he parried with dignity. "Tell me, why did you even bother blinding the poor man and not me, if all you needed was to ride in on a carriage?"
"He needs to drive the carriage, and I can't- it's easier to simply make him think that nothing is happening behind him."
He didn't know much about magics, but that sounded like a flimsy excuse. "That little trick won't work on the Thalmor mages."
"It doesn't have to," she was getting impatient. Her voice now showed slight strain. Talking and keeping up her illusion must have been more difficult than she let on. "Illusion spells are just convenient, but they aren't my arsenal. Now are you taking the damned deal or not?"
He chewed the thought over for a moment. After all, the price was cheap, and what she offered was useful. And if she really did just want to help her brother…
"Alright, I guess you can stay. Now what are you going to do, exactly?"
"Never your mind. But my associate is going to be at the party itself- Redguard by the name of Alamand. He can help you get away from the party itself, and I will make sure no one stops you on the grounds. You won't have to worry about bashing locks, either. And before you think of throwing me out of here and telling Alamand that you didn't, he won't bother helping without my signal."
"I didn't even think about that," he growled, slightly hurt. If he made a deal, he never cheated.
She sat in silence for a moment, and then there was a chuckle. "An honest man. What a rarity. Hope it doesn't land you in a ditch somewhere… or work out against you," she seemed to think for another long moment- she did that a lot, didn't she?- but then she just shook her head. "Well, we dug the grave, might as well lower the coffin."
They sat in a silence that would have been uncomfortable, had they been different people. For them, it was simply tense. Like two business partners that did not trust each other.
Voar broke the silence first. "So what man are they looking for?"
"What?"
"Why did they take your brother?"
"I don't know. They're looking for someone around our home, so they thought he would know."
"And does he?"
"Most likely. He probably told them as soon as he regained consciousness, too."
"Wouldn't they let him go by now, then?"
"Don't be so naïve, Dragonborn." Her laugh was bitter and muffled. "They will hold him there until they're sure he has nothing more to say, and then, if he is not dead yet, they will cut his throat. The Thalmor hold no sentiment for human lives."
"Tell me about the Thalmor." He asked suddenly. All he knew about then came from far-off stories that weren't too popular in Bruma, and Delphine's opinion of them was not as informative as she intended.
"What am I, an ox on the rumor mill? The Thalmor are imperialistic elves with a high opinion of themselves." She didn't sound angry or caring in any way now- just bored. "Dreaming of the "glory" days of the Ayleids… Annoying buggers, but they usually don't make life any harder than it should be. "
"Unless you want to worship Talos, right?"
The woman snorted, and threw her legs up to rest on the seat opposite of her. Pretty legs, too, visible enough in the tightly tailored armor, though hardly in Voar's taste. He preferred women with more girth and endurance. This one looked like she'd snap from the wind alone, though the acrobatics she showed earlier spoke against that.
"Talos… I don't know why everyone is making such a fuss about him. It's just one god in many. But you Nords are as stubborn as the mountains you live amongst. You just have to make things harder…"
"And how would you like it if someone forbid your worship?" he boomed, his patriotic pride hurt.
"Oh, they do. That's why I don't advertise it."
Well, that was just great. A criminal, illusionist, and a deadra-worshipper. "I'm starting to think I'm going to regret this."
"Definitely. You're the Dragonborn hero, and you hero-types always regret being practical," she snorted.
"And you're a criminal, and you criminal types like to play others with that practicality."
"Don't worry, our interests merge, and until that is no longer true, you have my promise that we're not playing you."
That sounded too convincing to be true. But he had already accepted the deal (what possessed him to do that?) and he really wasn't the type to go back on his word.
"You probably won't make it past the gates. The search carriages as soon as the stop."
"Whatever helps your conscience, milord." She shrugged, and refused to answer any more of his questions until they came close to the Thalmor Embassy.
"Silly Nord." Léta thought absently while critically looking over the approaching walls. "Oh well. You'll learn. Everyone does, eventually."
Getting past the gate was no problem- the overconfident elves didn't even bother checking the carriage properly, so all she had to do was lay low and still. Then again, getting past the gate was never the issue in her line of work. The real trouble came when she was inside.
Mages were much more effective guards, anyway. She knew the extent of power for practiced wizards, and it never boded well for thieves and assassins like her. If the mage stationed near the main doors would detect even one small twitch in the shadows, she would be discovered.
"Tell Alamand," she whispered to Voar once the carriage parked, "That the silence has been broken. He'll help."
He didn't speak back, which was just as well- she needed to get to the safe shadows, where Nocturnal's Cloak would shield her from praying eyes.
"I need to see your invitation," The guard addressed the man as he neared the steps up. Léta was already pressed against the gray stones of the platform, invisible to anyone and everyone who could have looked at her… unless the mage knew what to look for.
Detect Life spells have been the bane of thieves and thugs since its "genius" invention. Even Light spells could be fooled more easily than the energy-detecting magics that saw through shadow and stone alike. So the Listener had to be even more careful than usual, unless she wanted to receive an ice-bolt in the back. At the same time, she had to move quickly…
Impressive iron grates lined the perimeter of the Embassy, and there was a slight tingle to their shine. Likely, more detection spells, or perhaps a simple shock to discourage all burglars. She avoided trying to find out, instead coming up as close to the walls of the building itself.
Luckily, she found a small nook behind it's corner, where she could properly survey the situation.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm not carrying a poisoned dagger in my boot, yada-yada." The Redguard following Voar grumbled routinely.
"That makes one of us…"
"It is procedure. You may go in."
Three normal guards patrolling the grounds and the walls. One mage standing his vigil at the doors.
The wizard only glanced at Voar, but then did a double take, even his famed "elven composition" taking a hit when seeing a bear in party clothes. He didn't comment, but seemed more confused than a highborn had any right to be.
Léta only smirked under her mask, and prepared to scale the wall while everyone was distracted by the arriving guests.
Maven would be at the party… the thought was completely random, and made the woman frown. So what? Lots of people would be at the party, and she wasn't even on warm terms with the Black-Briar (No one ever was, but only a few knew it). Yet her close connection to the Thieves Guild brought some… nostalgia, perhaps?
"Stop with the sentiments and climb, dammit."
And so she did. She kept sending a small flame through her hands- the only Destruction spell she knew- to warm up her fingers and melt away some of the ice. The climb was short, but very difficult. But eventually she made it up to the roof.
It didn't get any easier. The snow has been falling for days now, and she had to tread carefully on the deep, but weak layer that was on the roof.
Léta almost made it to the peak of the roof, when her hand slipped, sending an avalanche of snow down. She hurried to grasp at the frame as soon as she felt herself being dragged back towards the ground, and held on until she could finally find her footing again.
The snow must have fallen on the Door Mage, because she could hear spluttering and loud cursing from where she just came from.
"By the- the last thing we need is to cave the guests inside the Embassy! They'll think it was a trap! You there, get shovels, now!"
The assassin stifled her laughter, and flittered over to the other side of the building.
"What was that?" Voar turned around towards the front door. Sounded like a thick crash, and then yelling.
Alamand only tilted his head up to the roof with disapproval. "Told her it would be easier to climb the fence. Don't worry about her, she can talk her way out of getting caught at a scene of a massacre with blood on her hands."
"Why do I get the feeling that's experience-proven?"
"The less you know, the easier you'll sleep tonight, my friend."
"I guess this is the catch, isn't it? She'll kill everyone on grounds?"
"Oh, no, she made it abundantly clear she wants this job as clean as possible. And there really isn't a catch- it was just coincidence. Now, are you going to begin, or are you going to let her get bored?"
"You're not coming?"
" I think you two can work this out just fine without me. I have other concerns."
"I don't trust you."
"That is mutual, oh Mountain-That-Moves. Here." He handed him a bottle of something. Wine, by the looks of it, but Voar was feeling pessimistic tonight.
"You think I'm stupid enough to drink that?"
"It's not for you, Dragonborn." The man was beginning to get impatient. "It's for that guest over there. Razelan is known to make a lot of noise when he has too much to drink, and that's exactly what you need, no?" Nazir raised his eyebrows.
"And what will you be doing?"
"I am just an innocent bystander." The Redguard shrugged his shoulders and walked away. Once his face was turned, he smirked the kind of smirk that would immediately make Voar forget all about the deal, and call quits, and then hurry to get as far away from Nazir as possible.
Léta prided herself in her ability to move silently under any condition- even on fresh, crunchy snow. Brynjolf was not the worst thief, perhaps even the best, and he taught her everything he knew. Which was just as well- the rumor was that elves had better hearing, and, whether true or not, she couldn't afford any mistakes before she got to Etienne. The Thalmor guards moved around with slightly less caution, piling the snow down and preventing any fresh footprints. It was almost too easy to move along the fence, hiding behind thick pine branches.
Almost, but not quite. Besides, her job wasn't to simply get to the destination anymore, courtesy of Nazir's initiative with folding the Dragonborn into their plan. She had to create a clear path for the man to follow. And considering the size of him, it had to be a big freaking path. The man probably never even heard of hiding or sneaking.
Somewhere, at the back of her head, she remembered walking through the ruins with Brynjolf and Karliah. Now that was worth remembering. Hours of sneaking around traps and the Falmer, and none of them slipped up for even a second, silently communicating and stepping with the shadows. Hitching breath and jolts of adrenaline, it was a fine day, despite of the context…
In any case, the guards had to go. It would have been safer to just slit their throats, but she remembered that she was working for the Thieves Guild at that moment. Babette's paralytic poisons made short work of the elves, even saving her the trouble of propping them up against their posts. A small illusion to mess with their brains, and…
The Solar greeted her with warmth and distant conversation. She cared little for their business, but a deal was a deal. She hid around the pillar, and waited for them to finish talking.
"…so he did talk! You managed to get something out of him, didn't you!"
"What goes on in the interrogation chamber is none of your business, Gissur." The voice was even and secretary-like.
"I was right; you got something out of him, then! I want to get paid in full!"
It didn't take too long to figure out who they were referring to. Léta grit her teeth, but stayed put.
"Enough of this! If you don't get out of the Embassy this moment, we will throw you out!"
There was grumbling and more arguing, but eventually, everything died down.
Footsteps. Thrown orders. Creaking of stairs.
Silence. Scratching of a quill on parchment.
Leta reached into her pouch, but there were only bottles of poison left. She silently cursed.
No way to get around this one, then.
"Sorry Brynjolf…"
Walking through the Embassy courtyard was embarrassingly easy. There was a short challenge when Voar walked right past a Thalmor mage in the hallway, but that body was now hidden in one of the bedrooms. This, on the other hand…
"So they held up their end. Woopie."
He wasn't too happy about that. He glanced over to the paralyzed elves with some disappointment. He was looking forward to the fight, though this was a lot more quiet.
The door to the Solar was unlocked, so he walked inside without delay. The place was deserted, though as he passed the desk he noticed a few drops of blood on the parchment. So the girl did manage to get some action- that was just plain unfair.
Remembering his mission, he walked around the desk and opened the drawers. They were unlocked, too. There was nothing there, though, aside from a few spare quills and rolls of parchment.
"Get over here!" Someone hissed, and he looked over to the door on the west side of the room. The girl was waving him over. "Quickly, there are guards upstairs."
He obliged, getting inside the room. It was an office, with another desk and many more bookshelves. Everything was stacked, lined, and carefully arranged, and Voar wondered if the files were color coded as well… Would make his mission a lot easier…
The girl shut the door behind him. "You have five minutes before they realize he's not at his desk. I'm heading to the basement."
"Who's not at his desk?"
She wordlessly pointed at the table. He leaned over it, looked over the corpse and let out a short laugh.
"I thought Thieves don't kill?"
"I'm not a thief." She shrugged, heading down the stairs. "Now hurry up and get whatever it is you wanted."
Dammit all to hells, locked! Whoever bothers to put such intricate locks on basement doors?
Her nerves were starting to get a little flayed. She could have picked the lock, but it would take too long and too many picks before she'd get it open. Grudgingly, she came back up the stairs.
The Dragonborn was digging through a chest, shoving aside daggers, coins, amulets, and finally coming up with a couple of bound books and a stack of letters. He opened the journals, mouthed a few words to himself, and grunted with displeasure before shoving them into his bag.
He looked up to her. "What?"
"Key?"
He glanced around, then swept one off the floor and threw it to her. She caught it a foot above her head, and headed back to the door. "You got what you needed?"
"Yes." He replied shortly.
"Then come on, you don't want to be found here!"
He followed her downstairs. As soon as they came inside the chambers, they heard the quiet moans of pain, and the calm questions streaming from the cells.
"Two," she whispered to him. "Take out the mage, I'll deal with the other one."
Without waiting for his response, she melded with the shadows, away from harm. Voar took a more direct approach- he charged at the Thalmor mage, and impaled him on his sword before the mer could even open his mouth.
The guard responded a second later, but he didn't get to take even one step. Léta rose up from behind him, and fit her dagger under the edge of the helmet. The body fell with a choked gurgle.
The woman dropped down onto her knees beside the prisoner, pulling down her hood and mask.
"Etienne?" She asked. "Hey, get up sleepy-head, there's no time for rest."
"What?" he blurbed. "Léta? I had a horrible dream…"
"Yeah, I know, and it's not over yet. Focus, Etienne," she grabbed his jaw with both hands and forced his face towards her. His eyes came to one point, thankfully, and didn't wander. "Can you walk?"
"Once you get me off this wall, maybe…" he snapped, his head threatening to fall again. Léta looked to the dead elf's belt and grabbed the key off of it, unlocking the manacles. The thief fell forwards, and she had to catch him quickly.
"There's a passage over there- I saw them dragging corpses that way…" he made a weak gesture somewhere to her left.
"Let's get you some clothes first, it's chilly outside."
"By all the realms of Oblivion, it's so good to see you," he moaned into her shoulder. "Feels like I've been here for years…"
"Just a bit less than that, sorry to disappoint."
"Damn Thalmor. They have ways… I'm still not sure you're not just one of their tricks…"
She dragged him out of the cell and heaved him to sit against the wall while she searched for some spare clothing. She found it in the chest beside the table, along with healing potions, and the next minute was spent getting his stiff limbs into the appropriate holes.
"Hey, Juggernaut!" She called out to Voar, who was diligently searching through the interrogator's desk. "You about done?"
"Just… so many damned letters!"
She growled under her breath, and turned back to her Guild Brother.
"What did they even want from you?"
"Dragons- they don't know anything, and they are scared," he grumbled. "Looking for some old man Esbern. Always poke their noses into places they don't belong… I told them… told them… remember, the old man in the Ratways? The paranoid one with the million locks on a steel door… Matched the description, but they wouldn't let me go…"
"Who?" Voar boomed suddenly, and Etienne flinched.
"The notes- I told them everything I knew."
"That's your problem now," she threw the Dragonborn a glare. "My priority is getting Etienne out of here."
"Yes, but-"
"Not so fast! Put your hands where I can see them, and don't move!"
"Damn." Léta muttered, more impatient than scared at getting caught. Voar's blade and her throwing knife made short work of the guards, so the only one left standing was a tiny Bosmer with bound wrists.
"..this is horrible, they will hunt me down… last time I do favors…"
Léta lost interest as soon a she found yet another key on one of the fresh corpses. The lock of the trapdoor was stiff, but she managed to turn it and open the door.
The cold hit her on the face as her view opened up stairs leading downwards, and light from the bottom.
"Looks like an ice cavern." She muttered. "Etienne, how's the confidence?"
"I think I'm good…" The man left the empty bottle on the ground, and shakily stood up.
"Good. I vote the Dragonborn goes first."
"Seconded," the Bosmer piped angrily. "If there's a troll there, he can choke on his bones. And who the hell are you?" She ignored the question.
Voar wasn't fazed by the suggestion. He pocketed the journals, and flashing everyone a confident grin, climbed through the trapdoor.
We all waited for the crunching of bones and possible choking. It never came, and Léta rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's get going."
A few minutes later, Léta jumped down to the snow, barely making a sound. Etienne fell with a little less grace, and she hurried to support his vertical position, which was threatening to tip over again.
"By the ways," Voar said in a strange tone from up ahead. "I think Malborn cursed it."
"Don't tell me…" Léta grimaced.
"Troll."
"Tough decision. Go onwards to the troll, or backward to the Thalmor?"
"Troll," Etienne said without hesitation.
"Alright, Dragonborn, we can probably-" She turned, and shut off. Voar was nowhere to be seen, and suddenly there were loud noises coming from somewhere ahead. "I guess that's our cue, then…"
"Are you insane?" the Bosmer hissed. "I'm staying right here until that thing is gone!"
"Suit yourself, little man," she shrugged without pause, "I don't really care what happens to you."
The white Snow Troll batted Voar's sword away without notice of its sharp edge. The man barely dodged a swipe of its massive claws, and lashed out again, and again-
Somewhere out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl and the man she saved slip past them. The troll turned its head immediately towards them and roared like an unhappy host whose meal just walked right off the table.
Léta held her hands outwards towards the beast. There was a sudden ripple in the air, and the troll flinched away. Voar hurried not to waste the pause and stabbed his greatsword through the monster's throat. It roared, throwing its limbs around, and then collapsed.
The Dragonborn stood over its corpse, breathing heavily. The cold air hit his lungs and he almost had a coughing fit, but recovered, and sheathed his blade.
"Careful now…" Etienne was now the one supporting the girl. She looked suddenly pale and exhausted.
"That took a bit more effort than I expected…" she muttered, picking herself up properly. "Stupid trolls."
"I could have handled it, but thanks for the help," Voar offered, and she snorted. She shook off the exhaustion that came with the depletion of her very small mana source, and squared her shoulders.
Her hood was still down, he realized. Imperial woman. Figures…
"We were just going to sneak past, but the damned thing noticed us. Well, at least I'll have something to bring back to Babette…"
"…so we get to Solitude, and Nazir is just standing beside the stables, the horses ready- and then-" Léta choked on her laughter, shaking uncontrollably.
Nazir picked up the sentence, "And the guards march straight up to the Dragonborn, completely ignoring us, and charge him with fraud, trespassing, theft, the use of an illegal paralytic poison, and the murder three guards, three mages and the assassination of one of the guests!"
"You should- have-seen- the look- on his face!" The woman was gasping for air, her forehead on the table. Babette was giggling, and Delvin and Etienne were roaring with laughter. "Priceless- like a kicked retriever…"
"Anyway," Léta finally wiped off the tears off her face. "As soon as they mentioned confiscating everything stolen from him, he went berserk. I don't know what was in those journals, but it must have been important, you should have seen how that strange woman seethed when he told her he was set up…"
"I wouldn't call it setting up, exactly," Nazir drawled. "We still helped each other out... except there's no blame on us, and he shouldn't show his face in Solitude for a few weeks and look over his shoulder for the Thalmor while we…"
"We can celebrate a good day's work!" Delvin toasted. He had reason to be in such high spirits- aside from seeing Etienne alive and well, the renovations in the sanctuary were making good progress. And all the construction was being done by workers, while he got to bark orders at them and line his pockets with the Brotherhood's gold.
The place was actually in a half-decent shape. A bit or reconstruction, some new furniture, a few less cobwebs and rats and it would eventually be livable. It was harder to get men to come inside and get the work done, though, but thankfully, there were quite a few who did not mind doing business with either of the guilds. Money was money, after all, and as long as they ignored the creepy whispering door, the menacing stone coffin in the corner, and the proximity to the family of psychopaths, it was a fairly simple job.
Léta's head suddenly turned away from the table, and all laughter died on her face.
"Mother is calling." She furrowed her eyebrows in slight confusion. "Seems urgent."
"Better get to her, Listener."
"Listener?" Etienne asked in confusion. "What does that mean?"
Bringing him into the sanctuary was a split second decision, mostly for convenience. They couldn't stay in Solitude, Riften was a day of solid galloping away, and the thief still had wounds that had to be taken care of. Besides, it hardly mattered- no one but the Brotherhood knew the password to the Black Door. Even Delvin was let in by Babette, as a precaution. And besides, the Thieves Guild was loyal enough when it came to its own members and clients.
"It means she Listens, Etienne, and it's better if you just leave it at that," Delvin answered his question as Léta stood up from the table and walked up the stairs towards the coffin. "She does that often?"
"Any hour of the day," Babette indulged in the gossip. "I saw her there in the middle of the night, once, just nodding along."
"No wonder she looks so tired. Has she been getting any sleep at all?"
"…"
There was an uneasy silence.
"Now that you mention it…"
"Of course she sleeps," Nazir waved his hand. "No one can go without that long."
"How long would that be?" Etienne asked.
"About four- hm, always?"
Another silence.
"Léta!" Delvin roared up the stairs.
"What?" she replied in a distracted voice.
"I'm dragging you to Riften with me."
"Let Brynjolf sort her out, he was always good at that."
"Like hell you are!" She barked back immediately. "I'm going out, I have a recruitment run!"
"It's the middle of the night!"
"What's your point?"
Delvin snorted. "Fine, if she wants to kill herself with exhaustion or potion overdose, that's her business."
"She won't die, though, will she?" Babette looked worried for a moment. "No, no, she'll be fine. She knows her limits. Right?"
Both thieves looked at each other, and then shook their heads. "No, she really doesn't."