Chapter 5: Undercover

"Filthy Altmer scum," hissed Cedran and vented his anger on a bucket of water nearby. Ever since the high elves had come into the city of Markarth, he'd been struggling to find any clients at all. The bastards were always sniffing around, looking for something… or somebody. He had to note the name of every customer who went and bought a horse from him or anyone who was simply interested in buying one. Every night the elves came into his house and demanded a list of the clients. There was no list. The last five days, only a single client had come. Apparently a talkative one. The whole city had taken notice of him being deprived of his privacy. No-one had come ever since. Not a single seller, not a single buyer. If this goes on, he's going to have to kill his horses for meat and find another job. A simple horse merchant wouldn't survive an occupation.

He sighed wearily and headed for his home when he noticed two hooded figures approaching the city.

"Oh great, more incoming," he moaned to himself. It wasn't the first time that he stared at the snowy mountain ridge which separated Skyrim from Hammerfell. He had thought of crossing it countless times the past few days but he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he just left the horses there. And so he stayed and watched the Thalmor slowly take over the city.

The Thalmor walked past him, barely noticing him. He spat on the ground right next to them but neither of them raised their head to make another of their sarcastic comments. Surprised a little, he shrugged and entered his house. It didn't take long until he heard a knock on his door. His regular visitors came at exactly the same time as every night. Again, he let them search his house and clenched his fists in the process.

"Oh, come back any time," he said bitingly when they were leaving.

"You better behave, peasant," one of them whispered in a threatening voice. "We got our eyes on you."

From filth to peasant, Cedran thought to himself ironically. Now that's what I call an advancement.

He was about to turn around and go back home when he noticed a movement from the river. He was sure no-one else had noticed it. The guards were too preoccupied with the Thalmor and the elves themselves weren't used to this land. To an outsider this would look like a pair of night birds looking for worms there but he clearly recognized two figures bending over something. He had to admit they were pretty good at hiding since it took him a few moments to register them. But he had and now he was curious what they were doing there.

As he approached the river, he noticed that they were wearing Thalmor hoods. It was probably the same two Thalmor he'd met before. Still, there was something strange about these two. He couldn't help but peek at what they were doing.

Suddenly, one of them stepped into the river and made their way to the iron bars through which the river was flowing out of the city. It seemed like they tested their strength. He crouched and crept closer to have a better look. His body pressed to the city wall, he heard a female voice.

"No good. There's a weir right behind those bars. This city is impenetrable, really."

Wait a minute, Cedran paused with a sudden blink of realization. This is no elven voice. And they're trying to get inside the walls. What in Oblivion…

The woman suddenly appeared in front of him. He caught a glimpse of her face and his eyes widened. Before he could speak a word, she covered his mouth with her hand and dragged him to the other person.

"What are we going to do with him, lass?" So the other one was a man. Unlike the woman, he had never seen him before.

The woman drew an elven dagger and pressed it to his neck. "Do not even think about screaming," she warned him. "You'd do well to confess why you were sneaking up on us. And make it short."

She removed her hand from his mouth.

"Lady Aislinn," he took a deep breath. "You're alive!"

Surprised, Aislinn put down her dagger and grabbed his shoulders instead. A sigh of relief escaped his lungs as the cold metal drew further from his skin.

"What's going on here? You're…"

"Cedran, the horse merchant. You probably don't remember me. But it's hard to forget someone like you, my lady."

"And just now you were wondering…"

"We all thought you were dead. The word has it that you died in a horrible accident a few days ago. Everyone heard your Thu'um… so it wasn't you?"

"That was probably me," she said. "But I'm here and I'm alive. Who said I was dead?"

"Everyone's talking about it so it's pretty hard to identify the source," Cedran explained. "People here know that the Thalmor are after you. And there's so many of them! But boy, I'm so glad to see you again. You give an old man hope."

She shook her head. You give an old man hope. Just what kind of hope, really?

"We need to speak to Endon. Do you know where to find him? Could you maybe get him out of the city?" she asked quietly, her eyes roaming back and forth to ensure no-one is listening.

"Endon? The Redguard silversmith? That won't be easy," his brows furrowed.

"What is it?"

"He's hiding from everyone. His whole family disappeared the moment the Thalmor came into the city. They say he buried himself in the Dwemer ruins underneath the city but we don't know anything for certain. There has been a slide down there. If he went there, there's no way he could have survived it. The whole place is in ruins. They're even thinking of moving the jarl out of the Understone Keep for his safety."

Aislinn went weak in her knees. She turned to her companion, the despair in her face covered in the dark of the night.

"Tell me it's not happening." She knew he couldn't answer to that.

She turned back to Cedran. "Can you get us inside? We still need to look for him. Or for any clues on how to find him."

"No," said the man beside her sternly.

"Brynjolf…"

"No, no and no. Lass, you're doing everything in your power to get yourself killed. Just when are you going to stop acting like that? It's a miracle we survived the way here. And now you want to break into a city full of Thalmor in search for someone whose location is unknown even to the locals? Are you out of your mind?"

"So tell me, Brynjolf," she asked quietly. "What are we going to do now? Go back to Riften where it's the same? Or maybe Solitude. We could pay a visit to the Thalmor headquarters there. Hello, how're you doing? Wanna have a pint with us?"

He let out a resigned sigh.

"All right," he gave in. "Have it your way. But as long as I'm with you, I'm gonna drag you away and tie you up for good if I see you jumping straight into the dragon's nest."

"I know they say that you don't steal a dragon's egg twice, but I'm the Dragonborn, you know," she said with a silly smile.

"Not. Funny."

Cedran, who was watching them the whole time, chuckled.

"It's not going to be easy to enter the city," he said, his voice serious again. "You'll need disguises. And two passes."

"Passes?" Brynjolf asked, sudden sparks bickering in his eyes.

"The Thalmor require everyone who enters or leaves the city to have a pass," Cedran explained. "They can be acquired at their embassy or at any headquarters in the cities. Your name has to be written in there as well as the purpose of the visit."

Aislinn frowned.

"Do you have one as well?" Brynjolf's voice sounded completely calm now, except for a slight undertone of excitement no-one registered.

"Of course," Cedran nodded. "I couldn't do without it."

"Then it should be no problem to forge it. This is my area of expertise," the thief said cunningly. "We'll just have to come up with a good disguise and a pair of convincing names."

"Sure, no problem," Aislinn snorted. "I guess I'll just have to change into someone completely different."

"Hey," he glared at her. "You're the one who wanted to get inside."

She sighed.

"Sometimes you can be such a child," he rolled his eyes.

The three of them quietly sneaked into Cedran's house.

"Be on your guard," he warned them. "The Thalmor don't usually come at this hour but they do have their eyes on me. The possibility of them showing up here is still there."

They gave him an understanding nod. He passed a piece of paper to Brynjolf. The pass was written in a beautiful slender script. It was signed by a person of the name Nadir and its corners were covered in gold.

"Crap. Golden decorations," Brynjolf sighed. "I'll need a gold ingot, a whetstone and a bowl of warm resin."

"I can get you the whetstone and I'll probably be able to find some resin. But the ingot…"

"Screw the ingot," said Aislinn. "Let's just use some Septims. It seems I won't be using them for a while anyway."

"Yeah, that should do," Brynjolf nodded. "Lass, you try to come up with an idea for a disguise while I'm working on this, okay?"

"Got it."

She sat down on a chair near the fireplace and Cedran followed.

"I think I need a wig," she said. "My hair is short, there's no way I can do anything about it. Unless I shave it…" She gave him a pleading look.

"Maybe I could give you some horse mane," the merchant suggested. "I do own stables after all."

"Brilliant!" she smiled. "And I need a proper dress. Any idea where I could get that?"

"There are some dresses my late wife left behind," he replied readily. "I didn't dare touch her stuff after she'd died… but if it's for a good thing, I'm sure she'll understand."

"Is that really all right?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Anything to help the Dragonborn get further."

Aislinn shivered. She wasn't ready for this kind of answer. Was she truly expected to unite Skyrim? No, of course she wasn't. People thought she was dead. At least most of them did…

They worked on the disguises most of the night. Brynjolf joined them later, waving two fake passes in his hand.

"That's that," he said. "I still need to write the purpose of our stay, though. How are you progressing?"

"Almost done," Aislinn smiled at him. "I'll be a fine medicine seller. According to Cedran, Bothela, the owner of the Hag's Cure, is still there, so I can pretend I'm her acquaintance. Even if they ask her, there should be no problem. I have a way to ensure she knows who's coming."

"Cool," he nodded in approval. "But you know… the color of your eyes is quite unusual. I hate to say it but they could recognize you if they saw it."

"Hmmm… I'll just have to be blind then," she assumed. "They wouldn't bother taking a headband from someone who's blind, right?"

"Let's hope so," Brynjolf replied, a bit of uneasiness in his voice as he chewed on the thought of his companion being disabled in this manner. "And I guess I'll have to cut this hair of mine."

Aislinn gave him a disapproving look.

"What? Got a better idea?" he asked, his brows raised.

"No, it's just… it's such a shame." She looked at his soft rusty-colored hair with regret.

"Wo-ho, you think I'd turn ugly if I cut my hair, hm?" he teased her.

"That's not what I… oh, for the Nine's sake, whatever. Just cut it down and do it quickly."

Cedran covered his mouth as he smiled. "Would it be okay if you just hid your natural color?" he asked.

"If I shave my beard, I guess it could be enough," the thief replied. "Do you have some dye?"

"Not exactly dye, more like some dirt from the ocean," the merchant laughed. "It's an algae extract. Works pretty well and you can wash it away if you need to."

"Good, let's use that. I don't think they would recognize me anyway. We pretty much got rid of everyone who saw me with the lass on the way here. They shouldn't even be aware of the fact that I went with her."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Cedran opposed. "Words travel fast."

"That could only mean we have a traitor among us."

"It's not impossible," Aislinn interjected. "You never know and there's a bunch of new kids in the guild." Brynjolf raised a brow at the word "kid". "But how about we don't cut it entirely? Let's just make it a different shape and color."

"Fair enough. Just for you," Brynjolf winked at her. She averted her eyes as her face turned bright red.

"There's one last problem," Cedran noted, waving his head towards their backpacks. "Your belongings. You can't take them with you, the Thalmor are sure to look through them."

Aislinn frowned. She hadn't realized until now.

"We can't go there completely unarmed and unprotected," she objected. "If we happen to run into trouble, there's no way we're going to survive."

"Daggers in our shoes will have to do," Brynjolf sighed. He definitely must have gone crazy to go through with this. He could as well turn back and just go safely back to Riften. If he wasn't concerned for the well-being of a certain lass who was most definitely heading right into a dragon's lair.

"And I guess I'll have to hide this in my shoe as well," she held up the dragon claw she'd taken from Samuel. "I'm not leaving this out of my sight."

"What is this?" Cedran asked curiously.

"Something important, I believe, but we're not sure," Aislinn replied evasively. "Don't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"My mouth is sealed," he assured her. "Here," he handed her a pair of scissors and nodded toward Brynjolf.

She took them and walked behind the thief. She could feel him shiver as she took the first strand of his hair in her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, her fingers carefully selecting a rust-colored lock. "I'll make it as quick as possible."

"It's okay," he murmured.

Don't, he thought to himself. Take your time. Nocturnal knows that I wouldn't allow anyone else to touch me from behind. How is it that you're so special? He closed his eyes, enjoying the tickling sensation on his head. Who would have guessed that these hands of hers, so strong when they swung a sword or stretched a bow, could do something like this.

Everything was almost ready when they heard a knock on the door. All of them held their breath.

"Someone's coming. Hide, get down in the cellar, quickly," Cedran whispered urgently. "There are sacks full of vegetables. Get in there and don't you dare move or make a sound."

They quickly did as he said. A moment after, they could hear a female elven voice coming from upstairs.

"We saw the light in your windows all night long. What were you doing?"

"I was just going through my late wife's belongings," Cedran said, voice unshaken. "It's about time I put these away."

"Your wife had… very unusual interests," the voice said suspiciously.

"Oh, this is not hers. I just tend to collect things. You know, when you keep selling horses to travelers and adventurers, you pick up a lot of trinkets."

There was a silence. Aislinn, pale in her face, wondered what the elf could be talking about. Her swords? Something in her backpack? Her stomach tumbled when she imagined what could happen if the unexpected visitor decided to take her things away. All the keys she had. The Elder Scrolls. The Black Books of Hermaeus Mora. So much forbidden knowledge. She felt like throwing up.

At last, the elf seemed to have gone away. They left the cellar when they heard Cedran calling to them.

"I'm so sorry," Aislinn exhaled. "You did so much for us…"

"It doesn't matter," the merchant said in a soothing voice. "They don't like me anyway."

"But now they really suspect something."

He shrugged. "I was thinking of leaving this place. I hate to leave the horses behind but it seems like I've got no choice anymore."

"Take this with you," she put an ebony sword in his hand. "May it protect you well."

"No, I couldn't possibly…" he tried to protest. The determination in her eyes silenced him.

"Is there a place we can hide our things at?" she asked.

"Try the cellar," he said. "There is a bunch of corners one can miss very easily. I don't have anything else."

"All right. Let's do that and be on our way."

Aislinn and Brynjolf hid their things and double-checked if they had everything they needed. Aislinn put her books and scrolls in a bag of the same color as her backpack and put it at the very bottom. If she's lucky, nobody will notice that there's something else. She took some fruits and herbs and put them on top of the bag. She added a few keys and small trinkets barely anyone would find of interest if they didn't know what they were used for. Then she put the pearl claw and a dagger in her right shoe and several lockpicks in the other one. Finally, she put some dirt on her face and her limbs, covered her hair with long black horse mane carefully glued to a piece of cloth and put a green headband over her eyes, tying it at the back of her head. Brynjolf, dressed in a simple grey linen shirt and dark leather trousers handed her a pass.

They thanked Cedran and left the house. Brynjolf looked around to make sure nobody was watching them. Then he took Aislinn's hand and carefully directed her toward the main gate. She could feel the rays of the morning sun on her back, hear the currents of the river nearby roaring. A bird of prey made its perilous presence known at a distance. Hesitantly, she walked forward and waited for a signal to stop.

"Halt!" sweet elven voice called. She heard footsteps quickly approaching them.

"By the order of Elenwen, the head of the Thalmor in Skyrim, a pass is now required to enter the city of Markarth. Either present it here or begone."

She could feel Brynjolf taking the pass from her hand as he deposited it together with his own.

"'Terendur and Cyrien from Solitude,'" the elf read. "'Visiting the city of Markarth to trade goods for a few flasks of Stallion's Potion at Hag's Cure.' What's that?"

"It's lady Bothela's specialty," Aislinn explained in an unusually rough voice. "We come here for it regularly."

"I see." There was a bit of suspicion in the elf's voice. But then again, that was probably a part of his job. "Terendur," he chewed slowly on the name. "Quite an unusual name for a Nord."

"My parents travel a lot," Brynjolf said. His voice wasn't too calm but it wasn't too shaky either. A perfect act by a skilled thief master. "They named me after some friend of theirs. Or so I heard."

Aislinn could feel the elf studying them. She froze when she felt a current of the air brush her elbow as he walked behind her and opened her backpack without a warning. He grabbed what she assumed to be an apple from there casually, paused for a while and put it back. He then checked Brynjolf's backpack as well.

"All right," he said at last. "You may proceed. Be aware that the city rules are strict and we reserve the right to punish you severely for any kind of misdemeanor you might conduct. It is in your interest to abide by our rules. The curfew is from dusk to sunrise and it is strictly prohibited to roam the streets at that time. You are not allowed to drink, fight or display any kind of disorderly behavior in public places. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," both of them replied.

"Off you go, then."

The gate opened and the two of them finally entered the city.

And so another chapter is finished. The story just keeps getting longer and longer. I have it all in my head but every time I try to get further with it, it just takes a longer route and I end up writing something completely different. It's like the story is evolving on its own, using me as a medium. Curious! :D Well, at least it's not a boring oneshot and you got something to look forward to. Or so I hope.

I promise next time there will be a progress in the story. :D

As usual, thanks for all your support. Likes, follows and reviews are much appreciated. :)

Mirwen