Chapter Twenty-Four:

The Ratway

We arrived in Riverwood at midday the next day. Javin managed to patch my shoulder up with magicka the previous night while I worked on Hiemdall's wounds. Some of them would become scars, and even though Hiemdall was still in his big and hairy form, I could tell he was pretty proud of it. I could only shake my head. Hiemdall and Milos were probably seperated at birth.

The Sleeping Giant Inn wasn't crowded, so we had no trouble making our way to the secret room where Delphine would be waiting. Aldren and Cha'qim didn't want to go down the stairs with us because they didn't want too many people to be down there, so they stood guard.

Delphine was haunched over the enchantment table, though she wasn't doing any enchanting. As soon as we entered the secret room, Delphine left it and gravitated towards the main table, crossing her arms.

"You made it out alive, at least," she remarked though she sounded relieved. "You gear's safe in my room, as promised." Oh. Right. Forgot she was holding onto my things for me. "Did you learn anything useful?"

"The Thalmor know nothing about the Dragons," I said.

"Really?" Delphine's eyebrows rose. "That seems hard to believe. You're sure about that?"

I frowned. "Why'd you send me if you weren't going to believe me?"

Delphine uncrossed her arms. "You're right, you're right. I just... I was sure it must have been them. If not the Thalmor, who? Or... what?"

"I don't know." Delphine looked at me, as if I'd just told her I was about to have a Dragon baby. "But the Thalmor are looking for someone named Esbern."

"Esbern?" The Blade didn't hide her smile. "He's alive? I thought the Thalmor must have got him years ago. That crazy old man..." Delphine shook her head. "Figures the Thalmor would be on his trail, though, if they were trying to find out what's going on with the Dragons."

"What would the Thalmor want with Esbern?"

Delphine snorted. "You mean, aside from wanting to kill every Blade they can lay their hands on? Esbern was one of the Blades archivists, back before the Thalmor smashed us during the Great War. He knew everything about the ancient Dragonlore of the Blades. Obsessed with it, really. Nobody paid much attention back then. I guess he wasn't as crazy as we all thought."

"They seem to think he's hiding out in Riften," I told her.

"Riften, eh?" Delphine scratched her head. "Probably in the Ratway, then. It's where I'd go. You'd better get to Riften. Talk to Brynjolf. He's... well-connected. A good starting point at least." Delphine smiled. "Oh, and when you find Esbern... if you think I'm paranoid... you may have some trouble getting him to trust you. Just ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means."

I nodded, and so Javin, Milos, Hiemdall and I ascended the stairs. Once Aldren and Cha'qim had joined us and we left the Sleeping Giant, the Khajiit flashed her pearl-white fangs at me.

"So, Dragonborn," she remarked with a smirk, "where to now?"

I frowned at her, but dropped whatever I was going to say. I just didn't feel like confrontations today. "We have to get to Riften and talk to Brynjolf," I told her. "You live there. D'you know him?"

Cha'qim laughed. "What fortune you have, Taryn! Know him?! Brynjolf is Cha'qim's second-in-command! Good man!"

"Well, that just made it a million times easier." I sighed. "I have a feeling that it's going to make-up for it later."

Nothing eventuful happened on our way to Whiterun to hire a wagon. Except for the odd look from other travellers at us. We didn't exactly blend in. About my things that Delphine had taken... I'd get them later. I didn't want to get tired and end up moving slowly because of all the crap in my pack.

Hiemdall sat beside me on the wagon ride. Milos sat as far away from me as he could. So much for being concerned about me yesterday. Not like I cared. At least, I think I didn't. I would catch myself watching him, hoping that he would make eye-contact and we could talk. Just talk. Just do something. I lost count of the amount of times I sighed on the inside.

"You okay?" Hiemdall's voice brought me back to myself. His shoulder gently nudged mine to ensure he had my attention.

I nodded. "Fine," I mumbled.

"Ribs and leg?" he whispered so no one else would hear.

I nodded again. Unfortunately, somehow, Milos had heard us. He watched us closely, examining us both before he opened his mouth to speak.

"What about 'em?" Milos asked.

I shut my mouth and watched the road ahead of us. Luckily, the wagon driver had stuffed candlewax into his ears earlier. The old man had told me it was so he wouldn't eavesdrop on anyone. Apparently, it was a habit his wife wanted him to kick.

"Taryn..." Milos' voice was low in warning.

I hesitated. Hiemdall wouldn't tell. It wasn't his thing to tell, and he knew that. "You heard me Shout last night?"

"Yep. Hard to miss."

I cleared my throat. "I... got really weak after that, and..."

Milos' eyes widened. He understood, regardless of how I'd finished the sentance. A close call. Not that it mattered to him. Milos turned his head away from me, rested his chin on the heel of his hand, rested his elbow on his knee and said nothing else.

And. I. Hated it.

"That's it?" I snorted. "Nothing? Why do I even bother to tell you these things?"

The words had launched themselves out of my mouth before I could tackle them and secure them. Milos' eyes flickered towards me, but then he pretended he didn't hear me.

"You told me about your parents, Milos," I continued, suddenly without a desire to stop the words. "You told me what you found out about them. You told everyone here. So, since that l'il thing's out in the open, answer me a question: did you hate them for what they were?"

Milos' lip curled slightly, but he didn't answer. I doubted he would.

"Do you hate were-creatures? For what they did to your parents, and for what your parents turned in to?" Milos continued to look away from me. "Do you hate me, Milos?"

Milos deliberated, choosing his words carefully. "No," he said quietly. That was it.

That. Was. It. Nothing else. No reason, no arguement. Nothing.

"Is that the best you can do?" Milos' continued silence made me sigh. His answer... I felt like, put plainly, it wasn't an honest one. "Fine."

I'd already made up my mind. I'd present Milos with an ultimatum. I guess it'd show if he really was my friend, or if he hated me enough to turn his back on me. I didn't want him to. I prayed he wouldn't. I hoped the Nine would hear those prayers, regardless of how I'd never payed any attention in chapel when I was younger.

Riften loomed in the distance. I breathed, thinking of the words and trying to put them together in a way that (I hoped) would convince Milos that I needed him. I needed my best friend, especially now that he was the last connection I had to the "true" Taryn Greystone, who had grown up in Anvil.

The wagon stopped in front of the main gates. Milos hopped off first and looked at the walls, faking his admiration of architecture. I clenched and unclenched my fists, hoping that I could at least fake confidence.

"Milos," I said quietly as I approached him from behind, "we need to talk."

"There's nothing really to talk—."

"Yes there is." I took a deep breath. "Milos, if you hate me so much, if you hate what I am so much, then there's no point in you being here to make me feel worse about this."

I had his full attention now. The massive Argonian looked me dead in the eye, as if he couldn't believe I'd just said what I'd said.

"I don't understand it or like it either," I continued, my voice quiet and shaking. "I'm terrified of it. But I'll find a way to deal with it. And if you can't deal with it, if you can't at least pretend I exist anymore, then you should leave." I hefted my pack onto my shoulder. "I'm going to get Esbern. If you're not at the wagon when we're leaving for Riverwood again, then I'll understand. Just make a decision."

Milos stayed behind while the rest of us entered Riften. I looked back over my shoulder only once to see his hands placed on his hips, his head low, his eyes glaring at the dirt.

"Hold there," a guard said suddenly, his violet regaila sticking out proudly. "Before I let you into Riften, you need to pay the visitors tax—."

"Cha'qim has come here before, guard," the Khajiit purred. When the guard saw her, he suddenly shrank back. "Don't tell me you forgot her already?"

"O-Oh." The guard cleared his throat. "My mistake. You're free to enter. Just don't cause trouble."

Cha'qim grinned and led the way inside, her tail swishing around contently. A Nord man with black hair watched us pass, nodding his head to Cha'qim. Surprisingly, she seemed to be pretty well-respected around Riften. Then again, she'd told us that she was the leader of the Thieves Guild.

We approached a man in the market who was trying to scam people (it was that obvious) with an elixir of some sort. When Cha'qim approached him, he smiled.

"What can I do for you, lass?" he asked.

"Brynjolf," the Khajiit said, "Cha'qim has brought friends. They are searching for a man named Esbern. Would you know where he is?"

Brynjolf scratched his stubble. He had red hair, which seemed rare for a Nord. "No. I don't. Talk to Vekel. I'm sure he'll have some information. If he's hiding in the Ratway, Vekel's your man."

We thanked him and followed Cha'qim down to the Ratway. Aldren looked longingly at a building we passed on the way, which had children's laughter eminating from it.

"Good times," he mumbled.

I could only imagine what was on his mind.

The Ratway was dank and musty. I could hear water dripping somewhere, but with the echoes that rang in this place, it would be hard to pinpoint. It had been built with stone, but if it had been taken care of before, it didn't show. Dirt and mud looked common. At least, I hoped it was dirt and mud.

Hiemdall pinched his nose. "Smells like skeever," he grumbled.

"The Thieves Guild kills skeevers regularily down here," Cha'qim replied, shrugging. "Cha'qim is not surprised."

The Khajiit led us down through the Ratway. I barely looked at anything. My eyes could see where I was going, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. I only really noticed that we crossed a drawbridge. I felt like, maybe, giving Milos an ultimatum wasn't the best thing I could've done.

Too late now, I thought, stifling a sigh. He does what he does.

Cha'qim opened a door and we emerged into a huge underground room, complete with a giant basin of water in its centre. Stores sat comfortably in holes made specially for them, and as we were being careful not to slip into the water, their owners tried to sell us their wares.

"Vekel!" Cha'qim called. "I need some information!"

"Cha'qim!" Vekel was a tall Nord man with brown hair, moustache and soul patch who manned the bar by the basin of water. It was like a tavern, to be honest. Vekel's eyes swiftly examined us before he smiled to Cha'qim. "What do you need?"

"I'm looking for an old guy, hiding out somwhere in Riften," I told him.

Vekel scratched his chin. "Huh. Lot of old guys around. I don't really know how I can help."

"I need to talk to him. I'm a friend. His life's in danger!" I pleaded.

"That's a touching story," Vekel remarked. "Now get out of my face!"

"Woah, Vekel!" Brynjolf came up from behind us and placed a hand on my shoulder. "They're the Guildmaster's guests, and they're looking for information. Luckily, I finally remembered who he is and where they're looking for him." Brynjolf took us away from the bar and pointed at a door. "He's in the Ratway Warrens. The old man comes here every-so-often to get supplies, but I'd be careful if I were you. The Warrens are crawling with a lot of things that just shouldn't be there."

Cha'qim grinned. "Get your memory checked, friend. If your head's deteriorating, Cha'qim can't run this place by herself. Cha'qim hates wild goose chases. She prefers smaller birds."

"Aye, lass. Speaking of deteriorating..." Brynjolf smiled. "How're your skills? I hear that the Thalmor caught a certain grey-furred Khajiit."

"Cha'qim was... comprimised," she grumbled, rubbing the back of her furry head. "For the time being, she has pledged the help of the guild to the Imperial who saved her. Taryn is trustworthy, and has talents as a theif as well."

"If Cha'qim trusts you, then I trust you," Brynjolf said. "Go after Esbern. I have a bad feeling that someone else is chasing him too."

"Thanks, Brynjolf!" We didn't waste any time. We charged through the door Brynjolf had pointed us to: to the Ratway Warrens.