Author's Note: Sorry for the slow update, but Nanowrimo (google it if you're not familiar) has its fangs sunk into my jugular. (I'm writing a vampire story this year, ha ha, a first for me, I tend to avoid those bloodsucking leeches but I succumbed to their charms and it's going very...oddly.) Plus I keep tweaking this chapter and it still doesn't feel quite right. Sigh. If you know what's wrong, shoot me a note! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

19: Bad News

The hot bath at the Bee and Barb had Thorald feeling human again after his long immersion in the canal. Grelka had been so pleased to get her tools! Thorald had often thought the happiest man in Skyrim would be the one who could make Grelka smile. A knock on the door interrupted some of his thoughts on other ways to make her smile. It was Etienne Rarnis. The bruises on his face had almost completely faded away. Although there was still a bandage on his maimed hand, the thief no longer moved like he was made of glass.

"You're looking a lot better," Thorald said. The priestess of Mara might not have been a healer of Danica's standards but she'd certainly done nice work. All through their trip from Solitude, he'd been amazed at the thief's resilience. Thorald wondered how he himself would have stood up to days of torture. Not so well, he was sure.

"I've got some good news and some bad news," Etienne said. "Which do you want first?"

"How about telling me what you're hiding behind your back?"

"That would be the good news." Etienne handed Thorald a bow, a bow he knew very well. "This is your lady's weapon. My good pal Niruin wants to apologize for, ahem, borrowing her bow without permission. He says he'll never do that again. Never."

"Really?"

"Well, actually he said 'urk'. That's because my fist was in his face. But I'm pretty sure that's what he meant. And he also no doubt meant that anyone with a bow this impressive must be a decent shot and he wanted to stay on her good side by all means. To that end, he sends her this nice quiver of steel arrows as amends. He'd have sent daedric if he'd had any."

"I'm not so sure Grelka has a good side, ha ha, just kidding, don't tell her I said that. But she is definitely a more than decent shot. I will pass along his apology."

"Make it soon. Like now. If she's as good as you say, she better come with us. Because here's the bad news: the Thalmor are here and they're combing the Ratway for this Esbern fellow. And I think the guild is supposed to be helping them although our guild master seems to have disappeared." Etienne's eyes crinkled in some private amusement.

"Your guild master. This is the man who sent you to Solitude?"

"Yeah. The very one. Mercer Frey. He's vanished."

"Running from you?"

Etienne laughed. "Mercer would never run from the likes of me. I doubt he fears anyone." His mouth quirked. He flexed his bandaged hand and grimaced. "I did not meet with a kind reception from the guild, let me tell you, but I insisted they check the vaults. And they did." The thief shook his head but his mouth quirked. Again. Thorald got the impression he was biting back a joke he wasn't ready to share. "The chaos in the guild now must be seen to be appreciated. Everyone talking. Everyone yelling! Not to mention blaming, cursing, and mourning our lost loot. Mercer didn't just plunder the vault, he cleared out everything but the dust and the bad smell. Anyway, Brynjolf, Mercer's second, says the only help he'll give the Thalmor is his boot to the seat of their pants." Etienne grinned. "Or words to that effect. He was a wee bit upset. And so the elves are on their own. But if you want to find your man before they do, let's get going right now. I'm pretty sure I know where he's holed up. Let's find him before he moves."

"I'll get Grelka," Thorald said. "How many Thalmor are down there?"

"I don't know. Maybe ten."

"Can't say I care for those odds."

"Nor do I. But the Ratway can be a dangerous place, to those who don't know it. Let's hope they find that out the hard way."

xxx

Etienne approved of Grelka. Thoroughly approved. The Dragonborn was impressive, of course, but his woman was fine. Mighty fine. If his brothers in crime had seen the silent way she moved in her armor surely they would have reconsidered making her a target. In favor of making her a recruit, perhaps. And she was a smith? They must grow them tough in Whiterun Hold. He couldn't wait to see her use that bow. Niruin had been extremely reluctant to part with it. He'd actually waxed lyrical over the thing, and it was pretty damned rare to see that cynical elf excited about much of anything. Maybe when things settled down, he'd see if she wouldn't make him a sword to replace what he'd lost in Solitude.

Thorald now, well, he tried to be quiet. He just didn't exactly succeed. Not that he was clumsy, it was just that he moved like a warrior and not like a hunter. Down here, it was better to be a hunter. Especially now. He could practically feel the ripples of disturbance from the Thalmors' invasion of the Ratway. The elves came here armed with both weapons and magic and they were formidable, he'd give them that. But they didn't understand the Ratway. They brought their lanterns and their magelight spells to penetrate her mysteries. But the Ratway was more than just a dirty old sewer. She had grown and evolved over centuries until she was her own little world. And this world was not defenseless. If the Thalmor had stayed together, they might have had a chance. But in their arrogance, they'd decided to split into several groups. And Etienne felt they would soon regret that.

But that was not his problem. His job was to get them to the madman Esbern as quickly as possible. In and out, quick as a bunny. Let the Thalmor reap the crop of angered resistance they had stirred up.

Because things were changing for the guild, and ripples of that change flowed throughout the Ratway. Despite months of hearing Delvin's talk of a curse, despite all the gloom in the guild, despite the disasters, despite his own personal experiences, he hadn't really believed the luck was gone. Not until it had returned. Not that all was right yet but it would be. The Dunmer had said so and he believed her. He had spied for her because she made him believe. She was going to change the guild and he could feel that belief fizzing in his veins. Their luck was changing. It was changing for the better, oh, yes. He could feel it.

xxx

Thorald wondered several times if they were lost. He never quite felt like asking. Etienne seemed different down here. Quieter. More confident. And frankly, rather dangerous. So he didn't like to ask. Especially since the Breton seemed to have his cold and watchful eyes on him every time he stumbled over one of the crumbling stones that paved the sewer or scraped up against a wall. It was so dark here. He couldn't imagine how Etienne, with nothing but a tiny gleam of light from a covered lantern, found his way. But apparently he did. Finally he stopped and waved for Thorald and Grelka to come closer.

"He should be here," Etienne whispered. "They call this the Vault. It's a very old part of the Ratway and it's become sort of a haven for crazies and fugitives. So be careful. Don't talk to anyone. Last I knew, Esbern was holed up there, near the top of the stairs."

They followed Etienne up an ancient stairway. This part of the Ratway had never been a sewer. Thorald wondered if it had been part of the old jarl's palace, that had burned down decades ago. Although it didn't look much like a cellar either. It looked more like a dungeon. Etienne pointed to a door and then stepped back. The door hummed with power. Wards? Was Esbern a mage? This could get ugly. Thorald had a deep distrust for magic that he'd once told Grelka must be racial. They'd argued about that. I'm as Nord as you are, she'd said, and I know magic has its uses. You get this from your father, she'd said. You're both stubborn and you're both wrong. Maybe she was right but this sure looked like magic and he still cringed at the thought of touching it.

Very reluctantly, Thorald knocked on the door. Even to his own ears, it sounded tentative. Etienne rolled his eyes and mimed pounding on the door. Easy for him, he was a Breton. Bretons loved magic. They ate it up. Thorald sighed and knocked harder. There was no response. At least his hand hadn't blown up. Yet. Finally he pounded very hard.

"Esbern! Are you in there! I have urgent news."

Still no response but he could practically hear a listening awareness on the other side of the door. Someone was in there all right.

"Come on, now, open this door. We need to talk."

"I think I hear something," Grelka whispered.

"I hear him too."

"Not in there. Out here."

He and Etienne looked around. He didn't see anything but it was awfully dark. He pounded again.

"Your friend Delphine sent me," he yelled. He heard feet shuffle up to the door. Finally!

"Password." He'd barely heard the whisper. When the word penetrated his brain, he thought his head would explode. His mouth certainly did.

"Password? By Ysmir's fulsome beard! I'm sick of these damned silly games." He about had enough control not to kick the door or shout but his voice rose in a fierce, penetrating whisper. "She gave me a password, some date or place or some other nonsense only you would know but you know what? I forgot it! That's right! I forgot it! Because guess what? I've had more important things on my mind. Like surviving! The dragons are back and the Thalmor are right here in the tunnels, looking for you, you suspicious old fool. I need your help, not this ridiculous, paranoid posturing. Let us in or you can deal with your witch-elf friends yourself." Thorald took a breath. Etienne had taken cover and was watching the stairs for enemies. Grelka stared at him, open-mouthed. He blushed. He sighed. "How's that for a password?"

There was a long ominous pause. And then a click. Thorald flinched, expecting a fireball in his face. The scratchy chuckle didn't set him at ease.

"It'll do."

A hand on his shoulder and a hand over his mouth jerked Aventus out of sleep. Babette, eyes gleaming like burning coals, whispered in his ear.

"Someone's coming," she said.

"The guards?"

"Maybe. It's a group and they aren't trying to be quiet."

"Are they looking for us?"

"I'm going to find out. Can you find your way to the exit? Like we planned?"

"I—think so."

"I need you to be sure. Can you do it?"

He took a breath. "Yes."

"Can you do it in the dark?" She pressed something into his hand. "This is the Nighteye potion I made for you in Windhelm."

"I can do it," he said, less confidently. "Should I drink it now?" Her head tilted in a listening stance. He knew her hearing was better than his.

"Yes."

"Yuck!" He blinked. "It tastes like a dead cat smells." He blinked again. "But wow. Everything looks so different."

"Good. Leave me the lantern then. I'm going to draw them off. Go on out of town, out to the farm and wait with Shadowmere. If I'm not there in a day or so, tell him to take you home."

"If you don't—no! I'm not leaving you here!"

"Hush. Do what I say." Her smile was a sharp glitter in the lamp light. "In our family, you obey your elders."

First Aventus walked slowly, quietly. Then he walked quickly. Then he ran. Then he stopped. No, he thought. This is wrong. She was wrong. Family stays together.

It was never really quiet in the Ratway. Water dripped, always. Sound carried along the stone walls and it was hard to tell if the clangs and thumps were close or far. He heard the scrape of a foot and later an indistinct mumble that was surely speech. Close or far? He didn't know. People lived down here, Babette had told him. Some because they were too poor to live anywhere else. Others had chosen to leave the light and take refuge here in the shadows. It was probably safe to say anyone here was hiding—or seeking. Anyone down here was dangerous.

He should go back to Babette. He knew he should. But she wouldn't have stayed in their hiding place. She was going to go deeper into the Ratway, to draw away the seekers, whoever they were. If he went back, he'd likely get lost. How would that help?

But it didn't feel right, to sneak out and leave her here alone.

She was stronger and quicker than he was. And far, far older. She knew what she was doing. He felt his belt. His knife was there. And also he had the rest of the little vial of poison she had given him. One day he'd be stronger, he promised. One day she wouldn't have to send him to safety. One day he'd protect her. By Sithis, he would! But for now, he'd do what she said.

xxx

There was at least one mage in the group ahead, for the flicker of magelight preceded them. Babette crept closer. Altmer? Here? There were four of them, spread out. She wondered what they were looking for. In Windhelm she'd heard about a group of Altmer thieves. But what would they be doing in Riften?

One of them cast a spell. She realized a bit too late that it was a Detect Life spell. They're looking for a person, she realized. But technically I'm not alive, so I should be safe. To be sure, she closed the shutter on the lantern.

"Over there," one of the elves said.

He can't detect me, surely. She stepped back. And there was a rustle. Three skeevers ran back down the tunnel.

Well, Babette thought as the elves strode straight towards her. That's not so good. She opened the lantern back up. I guess it's show time.

"It's a human child," one of the elves said.

"Excuse me, kind sirs," she said. "Have you seen my mother? She went to the market to get our dinner and she's been gone ever so long."

One of the elves crouched down. "Girl, do you live here in the sewers?"

"My ma lost her job at the fishery," Babette said. "And the mean landlady said we had to leave."

"You know the other people who live here? We're looking for an older Nord man."

Babette drew back. "My ma doesn't like me talking to strangers."

Then, to her absolute shock, another Altmer grabbed her arm and gave her a ringing slap. It hurt, too. The first Altmer stepped back.

"Ancano, she's a child!"

"Don't be a fool," Ancano said. "Can't you see what she is? She's certainly no child." He took the lantern from her hand and gave her a shake. "You will lead us to the mage Esbern or we will see if it's true that vampires burn like kindling."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really." He set down the lantern. He drew his blade. "Let us see if I can't motivate you to remember."

"This is a waste of time," one of the elves said.

"Perhaps," Ancano said. "But wandering this maze blind is a waste of time as well. I don't think it will take that long to learn what she knows."

xxx

The scream echoed and bounced along the sewer walls. Aventus froze. Stendarr's Mercy, that was Babette! In a panic of horror and guilt, he whirled and ran the way he had come. Where was she? Where was she? What happened?

He pounded around a curve in the sewer and was on top of the strangers before his mind registered their light.

"Easy, lad," the big man said. Four of them, three men, one woman, and all were armed. Even the ragged old man had a dagger.

"Don't be afraid," the woman said. "Are you lost?" Her head jerked around as Babette screamed again. "Someone's in trouble," she said.

"Someone's always in trouble down here," one of the men said. "Not our business." Aventus glared at him.

"That's my—my sister," he said. "Someone's hurting her."

"She's down here alone? Do you know where she is?" the woman asked.

"No! I shouldn't have left her!"

"Don't worry, lad," the big man said. "We'll help you find her." The old man hissed something in his ear. The big man shook his head at him and the old man frowned. "Any suggestions, Etienne?" the big man asked.

"Yeah, let's get out of here before we run into any of your pointy-eared friends." The big man raised his eyebrows. "It was just a thought. Aww, don't give me that disappointed look, hero. One rescue, coming up. Sounded like she's south of here, down in the lower level."

Aventus didn't know which was worse—the memory of Babette's screams or the continuing silence. Etienne held up his hand for them to wait and he disappeared into the dark corridor. He didn't return for what seemed like forever. When he did, his face was grim.

"They have the little girl," he said.

"Who?" the big man asked. "The Thalmor?"

Etienne nodded. "They're torturing her," he said. He grimaced and flexed his healing hands. "They're flaying the skin from her fingers. Must have learned that trick from Elenwen. There's four of them. I'll take care of the lookout." He looked at the woman. "See if you can pick off one of them before they know we're there. Then we'll rush them." He gave Aventus a look. "You stay back out of the way, squirt."

"No," Aventus said. "I'm going to help." He pulled out his knife.

Etienne grimaced but the big man, the one Etienne called 'hero', nodded to the boy. "Keep your blade ready. You stay with Grelka. Any of them get past us, you keep them off her so she can shoot."

That was the plan. Then there was reality. Etienne efficiently took care of his target but the old man stumbled in the dark, making just enough noise to alert elven ears. Grelka's intended victim moved and in the poor light, she missed her shot completely. A poorly aimed fireball had them all jumping back for cover.

"Ancano!" the big man yelled. "Release the girl!"

"You!" The elf holding Babette stared. Then he turned to his companions. "I need the Nord men alive! Both of them!"

"The odds are against you," the big man said.

"Are they?" the elf said. Aventus heard Etienne whisper something about reinforcements. The big man stepped forward.

"Let her go."

Aventus heard the bow sing before he even knew Grelka was aiming. The elf next to Ancano fell back with an arrow in the chest. Ancano yanked Babette by the hair.

"You want the little nightwalker? Take her." He pushed her forward, hard enough to make her fall on her knees. And then he picked up his lantern and dashed it down upon her. When the burning oil hit her, Babette went up in flames. She shrieked. Grelka fired another shot at the fleeing elves that might have hit, judging by the loud gasp.

"Let them go," the younger Nord man said. He rolled Babette on the floor into one of the ubiquitous puddles and tried to beat at the flames with his hands.

"I've got a blanket in my pack!" Aventus said. He fumbled it out with shaking hands and Grelka helped him soak it in the puddle and put out the fire. After the first scream Babette only whimpered.

"We have to get out of here," the old man said. "We absolutely must get out of here now. Right now, before they come back."

"They've got reinforcements down here somewhere," Etienne said. "Esbern's right, we need to get out."

"And go where?" the hero asked. He turned to Grelka. "How badly is the girl hurt?"

"Not too bad, I think," she said.

"I'll be fine," the girl said. She sat up gingerly. "My name is Babette and I am in your debt." She put a hand to her hair, which was a burnt frizz in the back. She winced. She looked across at Aventus and seemed satisfied with what she saw. Then her eyes studied each of the others in turn. "These were agents of the Thalmor, were they not?" She didn't wait for an answer. "And they sought one of you." She looked at Thorald. "Not you, they were surprised to see you here." Her eyes rested on Esbern. "They were looking for you."

"How astute," Esbern said drily.

"You have knowledge they seek?"

"If I did, I wouldn't share it with you, nightwalker."
"Fine," Babette said haughtily.

"You're a vampire?" Grelka asked. Babette nodded. Grelka turned to Aventus. "Are you one too? I always thought they were taller." Aventus shook his head and tried not to smile. "At any rate, we need to decide where we're going. Not the inn," she said. "Not Balimund's place."

"Surely we're leaving Riften" Esbern said. He looked at the children and then at Thorald. "There is nothing for us here. You need to get me out of here. You need to get me to that mutual friend of ours."

"Wait a minute, I'm not ready to leave Riften yet," Thorald said.

"What!"

"I have business here."

Babette tugged Grelka's sleeve. "I have a friend in the palace," she said. "The court mage, Wylandriah. I believe we can disguise your friend here as a Bosmer and he can pose as her father. Hide him in plain sight."

"I don't look like an elf, young lady," Esbern said.

"I have a spell that will do so."

"What, the pointy ears and everything?"

She nodded. "Come on, it will be fun."