Here is Chapter Three! If there's anyone here who read my Nightingale series way back when, I've slipped in a reference or two in this chapter, just for fun...

CHAPTER THREE – IN THE DARK (AND IN TROUBLE)

Marcurio dropped into the seat opposite me with a grin on his face and a tankard clasped in each hand. 'Happy anniversary, Mel.'

'Hey, thanks.' I couldn't keep the tone of surprise out of my voice. 'Wasn't sure you'd remember.'

'How could I forget? A year ago, my most reliable employer came sassing her way into my life.'

Chuckling, I lifted the tankard to my lips and promptly let out a slightly strangled sound of delight as I realised that it contained something rather different to the normal Nord mead. 'Marcurio, you didn't.'

A smirk was playing around his lips. 'And now you owe me even more, on top of the eight times I saved your life.'

'It was six times. I did see that spike trap, no matter what you say. And as for that business in Dragon Bridge, it was completely under control. One hundred percent.'

'Mmm-hmm. So emerging from the mark's house with eight guards and a goat chasing you was all part of the plan.'

'It was a distraction.'

'For who?'

'Don't ask so many sodding questions.' I took another long, glorious sip. 'Seriously, though. How in Oblivion did you manage to get your hands on actual, genuine sujamma?'

'That Khajiit family of yours. I had a chat with your mother, the adopted Khajiit one, I mean, last time she stopped by, and she promised she'd see about getting hold of some. It's probably from questionable origins, but everything to do with you is somewhat questionable, so…'

I savoured a few more gulps before setting the flagon down. 'Thanks. I mean, really. This stuff is pretty much the only thing I miss about Morrowind. Well, that and my hot ex, maybe.'

Marcurio has (somewhat begrudgingly) told me since that he's pretty sure he looked like a kicked puppy for a second after I said that. I honestly don't know whether I was dumb and missed it or whether I saw it and didn't think to say anything about it. I do remember, though, that his voice was quieter than normal when he said, 'I'm glad you like it.'

'Like it? I freaking love this stuff. I'll never get why the Nords don't make it. Perfect way to celebrate the end of my first year in Riften.'

'It's been a good one, from what I've seen.'

I smiled and nodded. 'That it has, my friend. That it has.'

And it was true. Sitting there in the Bee and Barb, with my closest friend across the table from me, my Guild leathers completely unquestioned, the comfortable, familiar chatter of the tavern filling the air, I felt complete in a way I'd never imagined I would, back in the days I traipsed through Skyrim's trading routes after Ahkari. The past year had been the best of my life, without question, and that happiness was like the sujamma. Something delicious that I drank in greedily and that filled me completely.

The companionship was part of it. I've always been someone who likes her time to herself, and sometimes the bustle of the Cistern would get too much for me. But there were quiet places in Riften where I could retreat if I needed to, and most of the time, having so many people around me who were so much like me was… right. I had people to share a drink and a laugh and a story with. People to watch for guards as I worked open a lock, to distract some poor unsuspecting citizen as I slipped a hand into their pocket, to swap grins with me and clap me on the back as we celebrated a job well done. Some were simply colleagues, people I knew and (usually) liked and worked well with. But there were a few, like Sapphire, who could match me for snark almost as well as Marcurio, or Niruin, with whom I'd spent hours at the archery targets, sharing tips and making new arrows, or Rune, who was open and friendly and always a pleasure to talk to, who were my friends.

Friends. I wasn't used to having so many.

And then there was the thrill of the work itself. The rush of adrenaline that came from darting into a shadowed alleyway to escape a guard. The satisfaction that came with the faint clicking sound of a lock opening. The feeling of power that always coursed through me when I pulled back my bowstring, or pulled my sword from my belt, or closed my fingers around a ball of flame.

'It hasn't all been easy,' I remarked, taking another swig of the heavenly contents of my tankard, 'but I've enjoyed it.'

Marcurio raised his eyebrows. 'Surprised to hear you admit that. You make it all look easy. Are you going to tell me that's all a bluff and you're actually dying of nervousness every time you crack open a safe?'

I rolled my eyes. 'I didn't mean the actual jobs. They're easy as winking. It's more… you know, the boss.'

My favourite resident not-a-pack-mule nodded sympathetically. 'He's still giving you trouble?'

'He doesn't give me trouble, exactly. It's not like he bullies me or anything. I just keep getting the feeling that he doesn't like being around me. It's like talking to me makes him want to punch someone.'

'Well, I can sympathise with that.'

'You're hilarious,' I said dryly. 'Thing is, it's not that he says anything bad, it's just that he seems… uneasy. Like he's talking to a Draugr. And he's not the only one. The other day I went to report a finished job to Delvin and he jumped. Like, literally, he jumped out of his chair. And stared at me like I was some monster from the halls of Oblivion the whole time I was talking to him.'

'Again, I find that understandable.'

'Shut up, Marc. It's all the senior members – Mercer and Delvin and Bryn and Vex. Bryn's OK, he talks to me like he does all the others, he just gives me funny looks from time to time, like he's trying to figure me out. But the rest of them… they don't treat me like they do the rest.'

Marcurio's frown was deepening, and when he spoke, his voice had a serious tone I'd rarely heard there before. 'This troubles you, doesn't it?'

'Congratulations, you've noticed something extremely obvious.'

'And you think it's to do with… the way you look?'

I couldn't help but laugh. 'Well, a lot of people have found my looks somewhat distracting in the past, that's for sure. But in all seriousness, yeah.'

I'd explained it to Marcurio, of course, the full story. Ahkari's tale of the mysterious Dunmer in the leather armour, the clues that had led me to Riften, everything. And the way that Brynjolf and Mercer had reacted to seeing my face. What Brynjolf had said about my appearance bringing back bad memories.

'If the problem is that you look like this woman they don't like thinking about, and that you think this woman might be your mother, then maybe you should just talk to them about it. Tell them that you never met your mother. Tell them you'll burn their hair off if you keep treating you like a woman you don't even know.'

I snorted. 'Gods, I'd love to. I don't know, though, it just doesn't seem like a good idea to challenge them about it, it'd seem like I was being defensive or something.'

'You've got nothing to hide.'

''Course not, but… I don't know, Marc. The Guild's been my home for a long time now, and I'm grateful for what they've given me, you know? I don't want to do anything that could… put that in danger. '

Marcurio gazed into the contents of his tankard, brow furrowed. 'You speak highly of that Brynjolf character. Maybe he'd listen, without judging you.'

'He's most likely to, that's for sure.' Brynjolf always gave off the impression that he was keeping an eye on me, but all the same, Marcurio was right. It was Bryn who was most willing to look into my face and hold my gaze, who would praise me the same as he praised all the other Guild members, who sometimes muttered a quick, 'sorry about him, lass,' when Mercer was especially scathing towards me. Maybe if I was honest with him, he'd understand. Understand that it hurt being judged for having a face I didn't choose.

'I haven't given up on finding her, you know.' The words came out more quietly than I'd intended or expected. Uncharacteristically quietly. 'Even if I really am being mistaken for her, and she really did do something so terrible that half the Guild flinches when they see someone who looks like her, I still want to know who she is. Or was. Oblivion, she could be a hagraven for all I care. Even if I have to kill her five seconds after I meet her or something, I just want to know who she is. Who I am.'

There was a moment of silence. Then Marcurio leaned forwards across the table and placed his hand on my arm.

'Mel, if you want to know who you are, the answer's not wandering Skyrim somewhere, it's sitting right here.' He gestured in my direction. 'But… this is important to you, that's clear enough, and if it's going to trouble you this badly, you need to do something about it. Talk to Brynjolf. Talk to anyone. Just take control of it and stop waiting for it to happen.' He released my arm and sat back, looking almost embarrassed at what he'd just done. 'And if you want to know who you are that badly, just ask me, and I can tell you. You're a terrible person who leads her long-suffering hireling into giant camps and Draugr-infested labyrinths.'

This last point was undeniably true, and I let out another snort. 'All right, you've persuaded me. I'll talk to Brynjolf and see what he has to say about the whole thing.' I leaned back in my seat. 'For now, I'm going to enjoy this liquefied gift from the Gods, and see for how long I can tolerate the company of a stubborn pack mule.'

Marcurio gave me a mock glare. 'You know I only put up with you because I can't afford to lose my best client.'

'Best? Surely I'm the only client. No one else could stomach your whining.'

'Well, you should count yourself lucky I can, because no other hireling in their right mind would follow a woman who when discovered in the middle of a Forsworn lair - despite her oh-so-famous stealth skills, I might add - points to the dead Reachman bodies littering the ground around her and shouts, 'Gods, someone must have infiltrated the base! You look over there, and I'll see if I can find them over here!''

'Did it work?'

'Not the point!'

He pretended to glare at me for a moment more, then made the mistake of finally letting out the chuckle that had been building in his throat just as he went to take a sip of his mead. And as he spluttered and coughed, I found that just for a minute, I could forget about my difficulties with the Guild, and laugh.

'Brynjolf, we need to talk.'

That wasn't how I was going to phrase it, Leo, I swear. On my honour – and yes, I do have some, shut up - I was going to be polite about it. Or at the very least, I was going to be less confrontational. I think I was planning to say something like, 'Can we talk when you've got a moment?' or, 'I really need to talk to you about something.' But whether it was nervousness or fed-up-ness or just finally snapping when I saw Vex shooting dirty looks at me yet again, that's how it came out. Like an order.

And maybe that was for the best in the end, because he seemed so thrown by how firmly I said it that he didn't even argue. He just blinked, shook himself slightly and said, 'What's up, lass?'

The Cistern was quiet; it was one of the busiest days I'd seen the Guild have yet, and just about everyone was out on work. Those who weren't were in the Flagon, sharing a drink and a conversation or two. Even Mercer had moved from his usual place behind his desk to hold a meeting on the surface with Maven Black-Briar. In short, it was the perfect opportunity to ask Brynjolf awkward questions without anyone overhearing. And I intended to make the most of that opportunity.

For the record, Leo, it's a little awkward going up to a guy who's been your teacher and your friend and telling him you've got a problem with how he and his best friends have been treating you. I reckon that's why it came out all wrong when I tried to talk to him. But, thank the Gods, he didn't seem to mind. So I ploughed ahead, silently muttering to myself, damn the consequences. This was something I had to do.

'Bryn, I've been here a year now.' We were standing on one of the walkways that ran along the circumference of the central pool, and I decided to seat myself on the edge, my feet dangling so that the very tips of my leather boots brushed the water. That way, he could see that this was a serious talk, one that wasn't going to be over quickly.

Brynjolf stared at me for a moment, then settled himself at my side. 'That you have.'

'Yeah, and you and Vex and Delvin still give me weird looks half the time I speak to you. Well, with you it's half the time. With Delvin, it's about sixty percent. Vex is something like eighty percent, and Mercer… well, Mercer just hates me. And I get it, I can be a bit of an arse, but I swear I'm all right mostly…'

I trailed off. Brynjolf was staring at me with a look that was half questioning and half guilty. And he was biting his lip fairly hard.

After a moment, he shook himself, reached into one of his numerous pockets, and drew out a pack of cards. 'This is gonna be a tricky talk to have, lass. What do you say we lighten the mood with a round of Dragon's Hoard?'

'Deal 'em out, brother.' I watched as Brynjolf snapped the cards down onto the stone in front of us with swift, deft movements. 'So tell me what it's about. I know you know something about why the other senior Guild members keep treating me oddly. And you know that I know that you know. So get on with it and give me some answers. Because I've worked my fingers to the bone doing jobs for the Guild and I'm proud to be here. I'd like to know when that's going to start paying off.'

Brynjolf set the final card down in his deck and gathered up his hand. 'Right, let's start with the three of dragons, and I'll see what I can do. You might not like hearing all of this, I warn you.'

'Four of humans, and I don't care. I want to know. I think I've got a bloody right to know.'

'Probably true. Damn it, I've only got the king of elves.'

'Waste of a good face card. But back on topic…'

He sighed. 'All right, I take the hint. You remember when we first met?'

'How could I forget? I seem to remember you ambushing me from behind and shoving a dagger in my face.'

'Yeah… not one of my finer moments, I admit it.' Bryn, victor of this round, collected up the cards and tucked them into his own deck. 'The thing is, lass, like I said back then, I mistook you for someone else. Someone you happen to look a lot like.'

I dropped the two of beastfolk down onto the bricks in front of me. 'So you mentioned. Fancy telling me who this mysterious someone is?'

Brynjolf let out another sigh, longer and deeper this time. 'She was part of the Guild. Dunmer like you… I mean, really like you, Mel. Your face is… by the Eight or Nine or however many it is, lass, I remember her face pretty well, and yours is almost exactly like it. Your hair's darker, and your eyes are a different colour…'

My breath caught in my throat for a second, and my hand froze with the four of humans hovering an inch above the stone. 'What sort of different colour?' I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, even though I already knew the answer. 'I mean… all Dunmer have red eyes, right?'

'Not her. She didn't. Or doesn't. I don't know if she's alive or dead, and I know this might sound blunt, but it's better for all of us if she's dead.'

It's not a nice feeling, hearing someone you like and trust telling you the woman you suspect to be your mother should be dead. Hope no one ever tells you that, Leo. And not just because it'd be bad news for me.

I placed down my card. 'Four of humans. And what colour were her eyes, then?'

'Purple. Never saw a Dark Elf before or since with eyes that colour, but she had them.'

Gods and Daedra. It's her.

I resisted the urge to say, as Ahkari would have, that that shade of purple is called indigo, and instead nodded slowly. 'So… this lookalike of mine, what'd she do that made you hate her so much?'

'She's a traitor, lass. She was one of our most trusted members, back in the day. You've heard the others talk about Gallus, right?'

I had indeed, and of course, I'd been completely in the dark about just how important that name was. How important the man who owned it was.

'Yeah, the old Guildmaster, right? Mercer's predecessor?'

'He was more than that, he was Mercer's best friend. Clever and skilled and brave and devoted to the Guild. Best leader we could have asked for – though don't tell Mercer I said that, OK? Seven of dragons.'

'Nine of humans. So how does he fit into this?'

Brynjolf pursed his lips. 'He should still be with us. He was still fairly young when he died. Gallus should be right here now, at the head of the Guild, and it's thanks to the traitor you've the misfortune to look like that he isn't.'

I breathed in slowly. 'I'm guessing she took the dishonourable part of being a thief a little too far.'

'Dead on, lass. I'm not going into details. Mercer doesn't like people spreading the story around, it still hurts him, even all this time later. But she… she killed Gallus. Tricked him, betrayed him, and murdered him. Mercer saw it happen and made it back to the Guild in time to warn us. And we've been hunting her down ever since.'

I threw the housecarl of elves down in front of me far more vigorously than I had intended.

'Nothing's been the same with the Guild since then. You ask Delvin and he'll say it's because luck's turned against us, but the fact is, Mercer doesn't match Gallus. Don't get me wrong – Mercer's a strong leader and we're fortunate to have him, but Gallus had connections we've lost since he died. And he had a way with people. He was… inspiring. Odd thing to call a thief, but it's the truth. We weren't just his band, we were his friends. When you can make a band of criminals really care about you, you know you're a good leader.'

By this point, I had almost forgotten our card game. Brynjolf was talking about a man who I suspected my mother had killed. How could I be the daughter of someone who murdered a man Bryn spoke of so highly - a man who sounded like someone I would have respected and liked?

'I know it might be a coincidence that you look so much like her, but…' Brynjolf gave my face a long, searching look. 'Melyna, can you name your parents for me?'

Even in this state, I couldn't resist seizing the opportunity for a pun. 'Why do I need to? They've already got names, surely.'

Brynjolf groaned. 'Lass…'

'All right, all right.' I swallowed hard, glanced up at my mentor's face, and decided to throw myself on his trust. No matter what Mercer and the others thought of me, Brynjolf was one person I was certain was on my side.

'You probably worked this out already, or at least suspected, but… I lied to you, Bryn. What I said about my parents coming from Blacklight but raising me in Elsweyr? Yeah, that was horse dung. I made that up so you wouldn't be any more suspicious of me than you already were. The truth is, I never knew my parents. Ever. I was raised by Ahkari's Khajiit caravan. And they raised me because I was given to them, by a Dunmer woman who appeared one night and left me with them, saying she couldn't keep me safe if I stayed with her.'

Brynjolf nodded slowly as I finished, and to my relief, didn't reprimand me for my lies. I suppose it would be a bit hypocritical for a thief to scold someone for dishonestu. 'And… how old are you? I know elves don't always look the age they are – not to humans, anyway.'

'Twenty five.'

He let out a slightly shaky breath. 'Gods.'

'What do they have to do with anything?'

'It happened twenty five years ago, Melyna. What happened to Gallus. And she definitely wasn't with child then – not visibly, anyway. Twenty five is the oldest you could be. That is, if you really are her –'

He hesitated, as if he didn't want to say it, the accusation, the thing we were both thinking.

'You can say it, Bryn,' I told him firmly. 'It's on both of our minds, isn't it? You think I'm this traitor's daughter, and so do I.'

There was a long silence. And when I say long, I mean long. The kind of silence you start praying for the other person to break. I glanced down at the card I had just played. The housecarl of elves card, I realised with an odd twisting feeling in my insides, was a Dunmer woman, with her painted-on hair half covering her face.

I sucked in a breath and looked back up. 'Brynjolf, believe me when I say, this doesn't change anything, and you don't need to think I'm going to betray you. I've never met the woman. I don't know anything about her. If we're related, and she's a traitor, then I don't give a skeever's ass about her. You know why? Because this is my family, Bryn.'

I gestured around at the empty Cistern. 'The Guild is where I belong. I came to Riften because I'd learned a few things about my mother, and they led me here. I came here looking for her, and I won't lie – I do still want to find her. Just so I know for certain, so I can get rid of the… the mystery, you know? But that's it. If it turns out this woman's my mother, then I'm not on her side. I'm on the Guild's side. Because my mother gave me up, and you took me in.'

Brynjolf stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded again. 'I can understand that, lass. And I believe you.'

This made me feel an odd twinge of warmth. 'Thanks.'

'In fact, lass, I won't tell Mercer, unless you want me to. If he knew just how likely it is that you're her kid… he'd probably turn you out, and we need you here. Things have turned up since you arrived. You're a damn good thief and a valuable part of the Guild. I've no wish to see you gone.'

I spent a moment biting back a smile, then shook myself. 'OK, that's enough soft stuff. King of humans. Can I just ask one thing, though?'

'Damn it. You win this round, lass. And go ahead.'

Gathering up the cards I'd won, I met Brynjolf's eyes. 'What's her name?'

He looked away, sighing. He knew who I meant.

'Karliah,' he said at last.

I closed my eyes. Finally, I had something. Not just something about what she'd done, but something of who she was. A name. The name of the person who had named me.

And a new thought occurred to me now, one that made me start in surprise as if the realisation had snuck up behind me and jumped out at me. I had spent all this time looking for my mother, simply because she was the only one I had clues about. I had nothing to help me find my father, and so I had barely thought about him.

But now I knew who my mother was…

'Brynjolf,' I said slowly. 'Did she… did Karliah have…' I stopped, sucking my lip, unsure how to say what I wanted to. 'Do you have any idea who my father might be?'

Disappointment crashed through me as he shook his head. 'No. She wasn't close to anyone in the Guild – not that I could see, anyway. Now, Ma'rhaz – you never knew him, he was part of the Guild, died before you joined us – he had this theory that she and –'

He stopped suddenly, and bit back the end of the sentence, shaking his head. 'Never mind.'

But I was on the scent now, like a hound determined to track its prey despite the difficulties in following the trail. 'She and…?'

'No, lass. Forget I said anything. I was letting my thoughts run away with me more than anything else.' He spoke lightly, but there was a firmness in his voice that made me certain that no matter how hard I pressed him, he wasn't going to tell me how that speech would have ended. 'Even assuming that murderer is your mother, I don't have the foggiest idea who your father might be, and frankly, I don't want to start making theories.'

'Unlike your old friend Ma'rhaz.'

Brynjolf chuckled. 'He was a sharp-eyed one, but he didn't always see what he thought he saw.' Another sigh escaped him. 'Karliah owes us her blood for what happened to him, too. We lost a lot of people because of what happened to Gallus, Mel, it wasn't just our leader who bit the dust because of Karliah's treachery. Ma'rhaz, Dar'zha, Elandine, Ahsla, Thjon… they were my friends, and they're gone now. I don't know how much of it was just bad luck, or not having Gallus around any more to keep everything in order, but it was when Gallus died at Karliah's hands that things fell apart, and when things fell apart, I lost people I thought of as brothers and sisters.'

'So what you're saying is, whether I share blood with this woman or not, I shouldn't feel any kinship to her.'

'Dead on, lass. Because, honestly? She doesn't deserve it.'

He dropped a card down on top of my own. And I returned to the game with my head buzzing and my mouth firmly shut. It wasn't just the sudden barrage of information I'd been given; it was that I didn't trust myself to say anything more. The thing was, I'd promised Brynjolf that I was being honest, but in fact I'd lied to him again.

My mother gave me up, and you took me in, I'd told him. It was a fact, but it wasn't all I felt.

Because I knew Mercer well enough to know that if he ever caught my mother, he would kill her. And no doubt if he'd found me with her – the daughter of his mortal enemy – he'd have put an end to me too. And while this might sound crazy, I don't know… I felt grateful to her. The traitor who'd murdered a good man and brought the Guild to its knees. Because she'd given me up rather than keep me with her and keep me in danger.

There had to be more to her than a traitor and a murderer. There had to be more to the story. Even after what Brynjolf had said, I couldn't find it in me to hate this woman. There might still be more I didn't understand, that even Bryn didn't know.

'Before I forget lass, Mercer's got a job for you,' Brynjolf said suddenly. 'You know that heist Vex went on a few days ago?

I nodded. 'Goldenglow, right? Didn't she make it out with wounds to both body and pride?'

'That's about it. But the job needs to be done, and Mercer needs someone to do it.'

'What makes you think I'll do better than Vex? I mean, she tells me pretty much every five minutes she's the best break-in expert the Guild's got and don't I forget it.'

Brynjolf snorted. 'True, but while Vex's is the best we've got at cracking open locks and sneaking in through windows, her combat skills aren't as strong as they could be. You're a fine thief, Mel, but you're a good fighter on top of it. When Vex got caught, she got hurt. If you get caught, I reckon you can fight your way out. Think you can handle it? You and your boyfriend?'

I froze for a moment, then threw the card I was holding at him. 'Marcurio's not my boyfriend.'

'I've heard that line before.'

'Shut your face. He's not.'

'Mmm. So the guy who follows you around on every mission, who you run off to the Bee and Barb to drink with rather than buying your mead from the Flagon like the rest of us, who gets Morrowind-made sujamma imported for you and who you bicker with like you're an old married couple is definitely not your boyfriend.'

Fair warning, Leonardo: Dunmer blush just like humans. It's harder to see, but it's there, and I know for a fact that just then, my cheeks were practically on bloody fire. 'What the Oblivion, Bryn? What are you, some fourteen-year-old girl? And – how did you know he got me sujamma?'

'Lass, we're in Riften. I know everything.'

I glanced down at the card he'd just played, and yanked another out of my deck. 'Right, you know what? For that, I am going to kick your arse. Ace of dragons.'

So you know how they say that when you're in a hole, you should stop digging? Well, we've already established that I never listen. Which means it shouldn't come as much of a surprise to you, Leo, to hear that only a few hours after Brynjolf mocked me mercilessly for constantly visiting the Bee and Barb to chat with Marcurio, I was right back there doing exactly that.

The truth was, I needed to talk to him. Him, specifically. Marcurio was someone outside the Guild, someone who I could trust. So I waited for over an hour in that crowded inn, waiting for him to appear, and when he did, I dragged him into a corner and told him everything that Brynjolf had just told me. And this time, I told the whole truth.

'No matter what she's done, I still want to meet her,' I explained, and he nodded with sympathy I'd not really seen him show much before, and told me that he understood and that if I needed his help with anything, I knew that he was right here.

'You'd be lost without me after all, admit it,' he added, smirking, and I pretended to hit him.

The next day, we both headed off to Goldenglow.

It's strange to think just how many beginnings this story has. It started the moment my mother pressed me into Ahkari's arms, that snow-bound night all those years ago. It started when I set off alone into the world, and when Teldryn and a thief in Bravil gave me the clues that led to my coming to Skyrim, and when Brynjolf sprang at me in an alleyway with a dagger clutched in his fist.

Here is another beginning to the story: when I pried open Aringoth's safe and uncovered a note revealing that the estate had been sold. When I discovered that some elusive adversary was trying to undermine my Guild.

Isn't it weird how sometimes, two stories that don't seem to have anything in common with each other can just come together, their threads intertwining so neatly that you can't tell where one story ends and the next begins? That's how this one goes. It seemed like I was the hero of two stories - the family drama of a girl finding her mother, and the mystery crime thriller of the promising young thief uncovering the conspiracy against her beloved Guild. And then the threads began to intertwine.

Oblivion, who am I kidding? I admit it, I just wanted to use the fancy intertwining metaphor, but honestly, it wasn't like that, a slow realisation that the stories were linked. Maybe I was slow on the uptake or something, but I never thought the two paths I was following could be one and the same until one specific moment. One moment when everything fell together… or crashed together. Like two snowballs rolling down a hill, smashing into each other and making one large snowball, one that picks up speed and weight too fast and goes hurtling out of control.

Now there's a metaphor for you.

The moment came one month and a few Guild jobs later. When Mercer called me to him and told me he had a lead on the Guild's mysterious opponent and he wanted me to take charge of finding the truth, I had no idea what was going to come of it. I felt none of the ominous feeling of foreshadow-y dread that you're meant to feel. In fact, I felt a twinge of pleasure that my Guildmaster – who I still couldn't quite take to, but who I nonetheless respected, who I wanted to trust me – was putting his faith in me, for such an important task.

And so Marcurio and I travelled to Solitude, talking and laughing and occasionally engaging in verbal battles as the cart lurched along the road. I admit, sometimes I found myself looking at him, and noticing little things, like the way his dark hair caught the sunlight or the patterns that the leaves above us made on his face, and remembering what Brynjolf had said. And then I would turn away quickly and silently mutter darkly to myself.

He is an apprentice wizard, not my boyfriend. And he's irritating.

We headed to the Winking Skeever inn, found the Argonian man sitting alone in a corner, and marched towards him in our most business-like manner. And here it comes, Leo. Here's the moment.

The moment when he glanced up at me and said, 'I didn't think I'd be seeing you again. Thought you said business was concluded. Did the Thieves Guild find out about – '

And then he stopped, taking a closer look at my face.

My blood iced. Because once before, someone had taken a swift glance at me and mistaken me for another, only realising his mistake when he saw that my eyes were the wrong colour. And that person had been Brynjolf, on the day I entered Riften.

Hear that, Leonardo? That's the sound of those story-snowballs smashing into each other.

And yes, of course I put Mercer's questions to the guy, and of course I asked him who he'd mistaken me for. But I got nothing. So we left the inn, found a hiding spot nearby, and waited for him to emerge. And the moment we started our waiting, I turned to Marcurio, grabbing him by the arm. 'I wasn't imagining that, right?'

'That whole thing with him mistaking you for someone, who seemed to be the person he'd been doing shady Guild-related business with? No. And I think I already know exactly where your thoughts are heading.'

'It's too much of a coincidence!' I admit, I was almost shouting, hardly being subtle. I would have blown the whole thing had Gulum-Ei emerged from the inn then, but luck was on our side. 'My mother's some mysterious, almost certainly Guild-related woman. And now, we're chasing another mysterious, Guild-related woman and the first person we find who's actually laid eyes on her mistakes me for her? Gods, back when I was with the caravan, Ahkari even told me she could tell I would grow up to look like my mother, and she only saw the woman for a few hours. This is the same person, Marc. I've bloody found her.'

'Yeeees,' Marcurio said slowly, in a tone of slow-down-Mel-there's-something-you-haven't-thought-of-yet. 'But only a month ago, you were telling me all about how your mother was probably the murdering Guild traitor. Not exactly someone we should be glad to have run into again – in the context of her doing all sorts of sabotage-related things to the Guild, I mean.'

I let out a huff. 'Point taken.'

Marcurio nodded. 'At risk of sounding like one of your bosses –'

'Oh, please. Like that could ever happen. We all know who the boss is in this partnership.'

'Yes, yes. Anyway, what I was going to say was, the important thing to your Guild's going to be that the person who's trying to bring them down now is the same person who killed their leader twenty five years ago. Not good news, Mel.'

'Yeah, I get the picture.' By now I was pacing up and down, hands clasped behind my back – I probably looked even more crazy than normal. 'But freaking Oblivion, Marc. That slimy lizard's spoken with my mother. Days ago.'

Marcurio raised his eyebrows. 'You can't be sure it's her yet.'

'I don't bloody care.' My pacing grew more feverish. 'We're following that scaly idiot and we're getting the truth from him. End of story.'

He knew better than to do anything so dumb as disagree with me when I was in this kind of mood, so he just nodded and said nothing. Years later, that's still his preferred tactic for dealing with my rants.

I was like a thing possessed when it came to tracking that Argonian down, Leo. Once we followed him inside that network of caverns and found a pack of bandits or mercenaries or something standing between us and him, we burned through them like wildfire through crops. I was going straight for kills, targeting eyes and necks and hearts, and if an enemy got close enough for me to have to engage them with sword and spell, my fire spells seemed stronger and fiercer than normal, as if they were feeding on the adrenaline pumping through me.

And when we found Gulum-Ei, I think he could see the danger in my eyes.

'Now, there's no need to do anything rash,' he said, holding up both hands as I advanced on him, sword drawn. His voice was high with fright. 'This isn't as bad as it seems. I was going to tell Mercer about everything, honestly! Please – he'll have me killed!'

As it happened, I was under strict orders not to kill the guy. But he didn't need to know that.

'Mercer doesn't need to enter into it,' I spat. 'I'll be the one having you killed, unless I know everything you know in a minute's time.'

'Please, you don't need to – '

'Just shut up and answer my questions. Who was she? The person you mistook me for – she's the one who's been after the Guild, hasn't she?'

He swallowed. 'How do you know?'

'Because it's blindingly obvious, you nut. And I look pretty much exactly like her, don't I?'

I was rewarded with a hesitant nod. 'Well, your hair's a little darker, and her eyes were a different colour, but otherwise – '

A different colour. Gods, it couldn't be coincidence, not now. Ahkari had told me my mother's eyes were not the normal Dunmer Red. Brynjolf had said that the traitor Karliah's eyes were purple. And here was Gulum-Ei, speaking of a Dunmer with oddly-coloured eyes. These three people had to be one and the same.

'What's her name?'

Argonian faces can be hard to read, but I know that he was frowning. 'Did Mercer never tell you about -?'

I dropped my sword and lunged forward, seizing the man by the lapels of his jacket and slamming him against the wall with one hand, and closing the other around a handful of flames.

'Tell me her name!'

My voice echoed and re-echoed from the walls of the cavern, and as the sound of my words faded away a heavy silence fell, broken only by the faint crackling of my spell. Gulum-Ei, squirming in my grasp, fell still.

'You're insane,' he whispered after a moment. 'Why does this mean so much to you?'

I met his eyes for a moment, then released my grip on the collar of his tunic. He crumpled to the ground, wincing and hissing with pain as he landed on his tail. Rubbing his bruises, he stared up at me, and I stared back. My face was impassive, but inside, I was stunned. Stunned at myself. I'd never known anger like that before, unthinking anger that simply took hold of me and made me want to rip to shreds anything that stopped me from getting what I wanted.

The fire in my hand was still licking at the air. I curled my fingers inwards, snuffing it out.

'Just tell me her name,' I said. Even to myself, I sounded tired.

Gulum-Ei blinked a few times, drew in a breath, and told me the name I'd already known that I was going to hear.

'Karliah,' he said. 'Her name is Karliah.'

Snow Veil Sanctum will be happening next chapter. I'm looking forward to this. I hope you enjoy what's to come... and thanks for reading!