A/N: Guys… this is probably the second-last chapter. I can't believe For the Jester's Heart isn't going to be my writing life after thisXD I don't think I like the fact that it's almost over, but one can only tell so much story. Night Mother wrap you in her cold, loving embrace, my dearest Dark Brothers and Sisters. Read and review:)
Chapter 40: Rekindling a Dying Fire
The Ragged Flagon was busy today.
Aventus and I hugged the shadows for a little longer, watching a tall, broad Nord man trying to convince the woman I recognized as Vex that something wasn't as bad an idea as she thought.
"For the love of Nocturnal, she's a bloody child, Brynjolf! How could you bring her in here?!" she shouted at him, pointing at someone behind her. He chuckled it off, throwing a grin at Vex.
"Now, lass –"
"Don't you dare 'lass' me!"
"– she's got true talent! Just what we need around here –"
"She's still a CHILD!" Vex shrieked, leaning forwards and snarling at the Nord man. Delvin had his back to me and Aventus, but he seemed to be holding back laughter.
"Ahw… I was lookin' fo'wards to stayin' here with y'all," a young girl with dark hair pouted, walking past Vex, her face sad and downcast. "I's so sure I coulda brought some'in ta th'Guild." She stopped next to the man called Brynjolf, grinning brightly at Vex as she tossed a large, clear bauble into the air, catching it and bouncing it in her palm.
Vex's hands flew to her pockets, already snarling. "Why, you snot-nosed, thieving brat!"
The entire common room broke into action – an Imperial and a hooded man grabbed Vex, pulling her back while Brynjolf snatched the girl's wrist, taking the bauble out of her hands. Aventus and I shared a quiet laugh. "Now, lassie, you don't steal from your Guild," Brynjolf chided.
"I's jus tryin' ta prove a point," she looked up at him with what I knew would be an innocent, pleading face. "She din't believe ya, now she has ta believe me. I c'n make it down here, if me guild members help me out…" she trailed, looking around.
Aventus and I stepped out into the light just as her gaze came to our general direction. She shot us a massive grin, waving at us with her other hand. Brynjolf still held the other wrist high above her head. "Welcome!" she greeted, and the entire common room went silent as the thieves turned to stare. Delvin spread his arms with a large grin. "Well, if it isn't my second-favorite assassin! How'd ya survive the Penitus takin' you on? Heard the whole place is in ruins."
"It is. We've moved house, and require your services to liven up the place," I walked into the tavern area, Aventus behind me.
"Ah, I see. Well then, let's talk business, eh?" Delvin motioned to the deck area of the Flagon, leading the way to a more private table while the rest of the thieves broke out into raucous laughter. The three of us sat down, and Delvin took a moment to look at us. "Same two as last time, then? I'm beginnin' ta wonder if you're all that's left."
"Close enough to the truth. We need furnishings and several adjustments to the Dawnstar Sanctuary." I wasn't here for idle chatter. I placed the lists on the table. "This is what I need done, in order of most to least urgent. There is construction work, repairs, furnishings…. Lots to be done."
"I see…. So your lot is holed up in Dawnstar then?" Delvin picked up the lists, leaning backwards in his chair to catch the light behind him. "This is quite the list; I'll need some time ta go through it an' work out the costs. D'ya have a few days? Maybe four, at most? Two, at the least?"
"That's fine; I was planning on staying in Riften until we could discuss costs."
"Great! I'll have a chat with Mercer – our guildmaster – he should be fine with havin' the two of ya stayin' 'ere a few days." Delvin stood, tucking the lists into a pouch in his leather cuirass. "Vekel! Git over here and bring these assassins some'in ta drink and eat!" he shouted, blowing a kiss at Vex when he passed her. She spat at the ground, and a loud chorus of 'ooohhs' followed Delvin's passing.
"Wow…" Aventus breathed. We exchanged a glance and laughed, looking up when Vekel appeared.
"What can I do you for?" he asked, looking at us warily. We ordered drinks, and Aventus ordered food. I wasn't sure if we would actually get what was on the menu instead of Skeever meat, so I passed for the moment, preferring to watch the thieves as they milled about. They were a surprisingly sociable group, and Brynjolf especially seemed to enjoy being around his fellows. When he caught me watching, he smiled, winking as he raised his tankard before turning back to the dark-haired girl beside him. Well, girl might have been a relative term: she was short, the top of her head only barely reaching Brynjolf's chest. Then again, the man was tall, even for a Nord.
"Thieves are a strange bunch," I commented to myself, sipping at my mead when Vekel brought it. I sat up straight, staring at the golden liquid in disbelief.
Vekel laughed. "Surprised we'd have some Black-Briar down here, aren't you?"
"Very. I didn't think it would be that cheap, either," I admitted, savoring the fermented honey drink, casting a quick glance over the prices on the menu.
"Compliments of Maven Black-Briar herself. We have a special agreement, you see," Vekel nodded, then left us in peace. I scowled: Astrid once mentioned a very long time ago that she sometimes did 'favors' for Maven. It seemed that woman wormed her way into all sorts of powerful, influential positions.
"Where are these gods-damned assassins?!" a furious, male voice shouted, storming out from a side passage.
"I assume that's Mercer," I murmured to Aventus, and he nodded.
I ignored the thief's ravings until he came to a stop by our table. "You're the assassins seeking lodging here? The Bee and Barb's just upstairs. Help yourselves to a room there."
I looked up from my tankard, standing up calmly and stood close to Mercer – much like Cicero had done to me so many times. "That's a pity. And here I thought our guilds might have had a kind of understanding. We are, after all, equally illegal, and our lines of business aren't so very different."
"Mercer, it's just for a few days – let them stay for a while, then they'll be out of the Ratway. It's not like they come here often, anyway," Brynjolf reasoned.
Mercer turned his glare on the Nord. "Sure, then they move in with us next time. And who is that child with you?" the thief turned towards them. "Another one of your 'prodigies'?"
"The lass is a gifted pickpocket, just give her a chance –"
"Get. Her .Out." Mercer hissed. "She can stay with these cutthroats."
The dark-haired girl turned a cold glare on Mercer, lacing her fingers together. "I'll be stayin' right here, if ya like it or not, ya pompous ass."
Aventus and I chortled at the same time as Brynjolf tried to pacify her. Mercer snarled, glaring at us from the corner of his eye. "We'll be staying in the Ratway for two days, then we'll move out. I can guarantee none of my siblings would find this place even remotely worth visiting for longer than that." I rested a hand on the hilt of a dagger, waiting for this Mercer to contradict me, to dare pull a weapon on me. I really wanted to kill him. But what I really wanted was to spend time on him, torture him to death. I need a painful, slow kill, where I get to hear my prey scream. I need to find Maro. And keep good relations with the thieves so I can use their services.
"Fine, two days. Same for that child, Brynjolf. She needs to bring in five-hundred septims' worth of goods in the next two days before I'll think about letting her stay." Mercer slunk away, muttering angrily about something under his breath, then a door slammed somewhere.
"Sorry about that – Mercer's usually not a friendly chap, but I guess he's particularly unfriendly today. Must be the curse," Delvin finished with a scowl. The tavern broke into groans and complaints.
"Delvin, there's no curse on the Guild!" Brynjolf sighed.
"Curse?" Aventus, I and the dark-haired girl asked simultaneously.
"There's no curse –" Brynjolf started.
"Somethin' out there is piss-drunk mad at us –"
"– on the Guild at all!"
"– and is the reason we're fallin' apart!" Delvin shouted over the auburn-haired Nord. "I'm tellin' ya, it's true! But dontcha fear, my lovely assassins – is just our luck on jobs that's gone sour. Makes life a little bit harder."
Aventus and I exchanged a quick glance. "Well, that's int'restin'. What if Nocturnal is behind this? Y'all keep referin' ta her as ya patron deity. She did curse the Grey Cowl th'original Grey Fox stole from her, din't she?" the dark-haired girl asked, pressing her hands together briefly.
"The girl's smart, Bryn. Don't look so torn over tellin' her – what she said is true 'bout the Fox. Dunno about Nocturnal being angry, but it makes a lot of sense."
"So, what we doin' 'bout this curse?" the girl asked.
Delvin grinned. "We spit in its face and turn things around down here – make 'em the way they used to be. One of these days again, we'll have this place as busy as the Imperial City again!"
Jokes made the rounds, then Delvin came back to us. "Right, you make yourselves comfortable here for a while, and I'll be off checkin' up on these lists of yours. Whenever you wanna turn in, just ask someone here ta take you to the Cistern."
"Appreciated," I replied, sitting again and just watching the thieves. Oddly aggressive bunch, but I wondered if they would actually do physical harm.
I wonder what's behind the girl pressing her palms together every so often.
Aventus made fast friends with several Thieves Guild members, getting to know about them and eventually returning with some interesting information – the Dragonborn was now Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, a Thalmor Justiciar was propagating rumors about a bosmeri Dragonborn (I could swear the accompanying description matched the one I had originally told Tawarthion), some organization called the Dawnguard was reforming, following a series of (apparently) planned vampire attacks, several Stormcloak troops had snuck into Imperial-controlled land and managed to destroy anywhere between three and twelve (an over-exaggeration, in my opinion) Imperial camps before they were 'brought to heel'. Aventus had seemed especially upset that the Stormcloaks hadn't managed to return to Windhelm instead.
Then, of course, there were increasingly exaggerated stories about the Emperor's assassination, from the mildly plausible to the utterly ridiculous – the Emperor had met with Boethia, and she had killed him by giving the Dark Brotherhood the contract. I didn't even understand how that was remotely possible, nor did anyone else who spread the rumor, but it was all a part of the Dark Brotherhood's growing infamy. Finally, what interested me most, was the sudden and unexpected murder of Commander Maro of the Penitus Oculatus, found with a deep stab wound to his stomach and a cut throat. Further details told of how he was found next to a series of fresh, crudely marked graves in Falkreath's Cemetery.
I felt a familiar pang run through my chest – what if, just perhaps, it had been Cicero? I squashed those thoughts, scowling at the ground. Dead, remember? Shantanalz was the 'wandering troubadour' in the prophecy.
But no-one in the Sanctuary mentioned seeing Cicero's body anywhere…. I hadn't moved it, so did they maybe think I had buried him, or had they just decided to let sleeping dogs lie?
"So, how old are you, Alessia? If I may," Aventus asked the dark-haired girl. We'd moved to the bar, and she had been sitting with us for a while before introducing herself as Alessia.
"Well, I be turnin'… twen'y-three in 'bout a week, so yeah, young, I guess. Bein' a true, bastard half-elf helps keep one lookin' like a child," she smiled tensely, gulping down whatever was in her tankard.
"Half-elf?" I asked. Didn't that make her a Breton? Something about their far-flung history mentioned they were the product of early Nordic and Elven unions.
"Aye, Breton-Bosmer, technic'ly, dropped off at the temple of Dibella in Markarth. Some guesses say I's originally Forsworn, others say I's some bastard Thalmor-som'in. Me, I couldn't care less. Had a roof over me head, food ta eat, and now I's got a new family that understands and will 'preciate me talents." She flashed a bright grin at us, and pressed her hands together again.
Aventus excused himself to play cards with another group of thieves. He'll lose all of his money, I thought, watching the thieves snicker at each other.
"What's the story behind that habit of yours?" I asked quietly, nodding at Alessia's hands.
"Ah, ya noticed it?" she turned for face me squarely on the stool. I nodded, looking at her. "Revenge from som'un I pickpocketed, prob'ly. See, I act'lly see a little fuzzy, thanks to some special poison or other. Runes on me hands help me see straight," she held out her palms. They were covered in tattoos of the various, foreign runes I recognized as the magical alphabet Festus often used. "Is a complex combination spell, Restoration and Illusion. I don't so much cast it as I feed the runes with Magicka." Alessia covered her hands again, a bitter sneer on her face.
"Doesn't it make your line of work challenging? And what about the people around you?" I wondered aloud, confused as to how she would gather her tithe to Mercer. I still want him dead.
"Yeah… I s'pose it does. I see shapes and colors, but is all fuzzy. And once I know the place and the people, how they walk, what they smell like, an' other thin's like that, it's easy ta get 'round without usin' it a lot."
I nodded, sniffing. Her accent was mildly annoying. "Where did you pick up your accent?"
Alessia laughed. "Askin' if I c'n speak all proper-like? Sure, yeah – jus' don' like it much. 'Sides, can't get too much information from beggars and poor folk if I 'talk to them with an educated accent'," she finished, her voice changing to a softer, more mature tone. The two of us looked over at the fierce cries of joy and frustration when Aventus lost the round. "They's cheatin' 'im."
"I know."
"Gonna help 'im out?"
"Nope. He can figure it out on his own," I shook my head when Aventus agreed to another round. "I think now's a good time to turn in, actually."
"Aye. Let's find Bryn," Alessia agreed, throwing the last of her drink down her throat and standing.
I followed her to the gambling table, where she leaned on Brynjolf's shoulder, peering at his hand. She squinted. "Shit hand. Nice," she commented, straightening and glancing over the table and everyone who had folded. The table groaned, the few still holding their cards throwing them down, and the Nord looked up at her. "That was cruel, lass."
"Mm. Mind showin' us ta th'Cistern?" Alessia shrugged.
"Be glad to, lass. I'm out this round, boys." He stood, gesturing we following him.
He opened a false door in a cupboard, closing it behind us. Another door later and we stood inside the Cistern, a large, circular room with a pool of water in the middle, the quiet rush of a waterfall oddly soothing as it echoed in the dome. It was surprisingly clean-looking and –smelling. Beds lined the pool in the middle, accessible by bridges spanning the water and walkways along the edges, and four passages led out to other areas – safes, training areas, alternate entrances and exits, I supposed. A shrine to Nocturnal stood to one side, tall and dark and beautifully opposing. "Welcome to the Cistern, lasses. You can take these two beds over here," he raised a hand, leading us to a small alcove with three beds.
I dropped my things at the head of my bed, while Alessia flopped down on hers. "Tell me – will any of yours consider taking an interest in my possessions during my stay?" I turned to Brynjolf, nudging my pack under the bed with my foot.
"No, lass – I doubt they'd like to find themselves dead and in the Void as opposed to the Evergloam or other," he chuckled. "Assuming we all go to these different places when we die. Shout if you need anything else."
I nodded my thanks, quickly fishing out my robes and changing behind a screen.
"OI, BRYNJOLF!" Alessia shouted suddenly, the strength of her voice making me flinch and drop my tunic.
"Lass?" Brynjolf questioned, coming back just as I stepped out, frowning deeply.
Alessia shot him a bright grin, leaning on her elbows. "Methinks I need a foot massage," she wiggled her toes at him.
The Nord's shocked and confused expression with Alessia's snicker was the last straw. I snorted, and one look at Alessia had both of us in fits of laughter. Brynjolf chuckled to himself, brushing off Alessia's request with a wave of his hand.
"Good night, lasses!"