XII - Goldenglow

It seemed Mercer had made it clear to the other thieves that they were not to welcome her unless she returned from Goldenglow with the loot, so Merill wasted no time in climbing out the back entrance of the Cistern and ducking through Riften’s alleys, following Nalimir’s hooded figure to the front gate. Mercer had said forcefully that Merill was to receive no help heisting Goldenglow, but grudgingly agreed to let Nalimir at least point the way to the estate from the shore. It was just before dusk now, the air cooling and stars beginning to peer out from behind the clouds, and Merill kept her new hood low over her face as they made their way beneath the dappled shade of the path that surrounded Lake Honrich.

“There it is,” Nalimir said, pointing.

Goldenglow Estate was built over three islands in the centre of the lake, with no bridge across the water – rather, Merill saw a small dock and a few sloops to ferry the residents across. A large manor dominated the biggest island, and a bridge offered access to the smaller two – one of which, Merill was guessing, housed the bee hives she was meant to burn. An evening fog had begun to settle on the water’s surface, making it hard to see clearly, but Merill guessed the heavyset shapes she saw moving across the bridges were Aringoth’s hired mercenaries.

“Vex slipped in through a sewer grate that had a door into the basement,” Nalimir was telling her. “Don’t think they realized she used it, so it’s probably your best bet.”

“What happened when Vex went in there?”

“She didn’t tell us,” Nalimir replied with a bit of a smirk. “Wounded pride. But she came back empty-handed with a nasty cut across her leg, so it must not’ve gone well.”

“I’m going to wait a bit,” Merill told him, checking her belt to be sure her quiver was in place at her hip. “Till it gets darker.” Nalimir nodded.

“Be careful out there, Mer,” he told her gravely. “This is a hell of an initiation, and those mercenaries are ruthless.”

“I’ve dealt with worse than hired thugs,” Merill muttered, and Nalimir fixed her with his knowing gaze.

“Just do what you need to do and get out, yeah? I’ll meet you back in the Cistern.” He clapped her on the shoulder once and turned, his cloak whispering over the leaves as he headed back up toward the city.

Merill climbed up into the hills around Lake Honrich and waited for nightfall, carefully watching the mercenary’s movements and trying to figure out a pattern as she nibbled on a ham roll she’d brought with her. The hires didn’t seem very organized – it looked like they were just wandering the estate, occasionally glancing around but otherwise going about other menial tasks that needed doing. Still, Merill knew it would be best to avoid them – despite her airy confidence, Nalimir’s warning about the sellswords stuck in her mind.

She could see the bee hives from her vantage point, a small walled-in field that stood home to a number of the rounded mounds. The wall would make it difficult to get to – it looked like the only way over to the hives was across a narrow, well-lit bridge, and the island’s rocky sides would make it impossible to climb over. She decided she would clear the safe in the estate first, knowing full well that the burning bee hives would alert the entire estate to search for her.

When the night had grown so dark the only light came from the bridges of the estate and the distant glimmers from Riften, Merill slid down from the hills and slowly waded into the water of Lake Honrich, carefully slipping beneath the surface and diving down to the lake’s floor so as not to cause ripples for the mercenaries to see. She swam straight up to the estate, briefly popped up for a quick breath, then swam around and under the docks until she found the mentioned sewer grate. The dank tunnels were empty save for a few half-starved skeevers, and Merill quickly found the ladder that she hoped led up into the manor.

She pressed her ear against the trapdoor and, hearing nothing, carefully pushed it open just enough so that she could see the ground. To her annoyance, the grate opened up just outside the manor’s back door, meaning she would have to get out of the tunnel and pick the lock on the door as quickly as she could. Taking another look around to be sure there were no mercenaries around, Merill slid aside the grate and slipped out, quickly nudging it back into place while she pulled a handful of lockpicks from her armour. She glanced around again, taking one lockpick and holding the rest in her teeth while she slid the pick rake into the door’s keyhole and angled in the tumbler wrench. She’d done her fair share of lockpicking in Markarth, and this lock, she was pleased to discover, wasn’t as complex as she’d been expecting, probably because Vex had gained entrance through this same door not long ago. It clicked open after a little fiddling with the tumblers, and Merill hastily tucked the picks away and darted inside the dim back hallway, letting the door click shut behind her.

Merill strained her ears, but could hear no sign of movement anywhere else in the estate, so she moved carefully through a dining room laden with half-eaten food and through a number of hallways, deciding to check the estate’s upper level first. There were a few mercenaries in the halls, but they all looked tired and far from alert, and they were easy to hide from and slip past.

Merill quickly found Aringoth’s room upstairs, a massive suite lined with shelves where glittering trinkets winked at her in the candlelight. The fat Bosmer himself snored labouriously in the great four poster bed, facedown in the pillows, leaving Merill free to close the door and go through the shelves, slipping the valuables she found into her pockets. A large golden statue of a queen bee stood on Aringoth’s bedside, and though it was heavy, Merill had a feeling it would fetch a good price. The Bosmer slept with a key strung around his bloated neck, and Merill, guessing that this was the safe key, carefully slipped it off over his head while he grunted in his sleep.

The safe itself was down in the basement, where a single mercenary guarded the area, sitting and staring vigilantly around the room, as if expecting assassins to come bursting through the very floorboards at his feet. Merill knew sneaking past him would be impossible, and if she went in and blindly attacked he would shout and wake the whole estate. She stayed in the shadows and drew an arrow, aiming for his head, then lowered the bow, remembering that Brynjolf had warned her against killing anyone.

Instead, she drew from her quiver a special enchanted arrow she’d bought from Tonilia that the fence promised would cause a great deal of noise wherever it struck, and nocked it, carefully aiming for a hallway opposite the safe. The moment the mercenary looked away, Merill let the arrow fly, and she heard it hit the wooden walls, followed by a sound like a great number of metal and clay crashing to the ground. The mercenary leapt up, seized his sword from where it lay on a nearby table, and sprinted down the hallway, leaving Merill free to duck down to the safe and quickly slide the key in and pull the heavy iron door open.

The safe, to Merill’s surprise, was nearly empty, boasting only a fat coin purse and an official-looking folded document. She heard the mercenary coming back in the next room, so she quickly grabbed both and kicked the safe shut again before ducking through the hallway and heading back upstairs and outside. She ducked into some shrubbery near the rocky shore and glanced around, trying to map out a strategy before the mercenary from the basement realized what had happened and alerted the entire company. The sellswords here didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss, and they continued to go about their duties, chopping wood and wheeling carts of supplies around.

Merill had to move. The door she’d just come out of was the one closest to the basement, where the mercenary from downstairs would likely come outside to report the theft from the safe. She drew her bow and nocked an arrow, carefully moving through the bushes and small trees around the edge of the island, staying among the rocks and plants and out of the light. She neared the dock, which was guarded by a single mercenary who would certainly see her if she tried to proceed. Merill glanced around, hoping for a different solution, and when she saw nothing, hastily drew back her nock and put an arrow through the mercenary’s eye. He fell back wordlessly, a splash coming up from the rocks as his body tumbled into the lake. Her path clear, Merill hopped down toward the dock and hurried on her way, drawing another arrow.

As she was nearing the bridge that led to the beehives, Merill heard a door slam shut and saw the mercenaries look up collectively, almost as one unit. She swore under her breath as the sellsword from the basement came sprinting into the yard, shouting.

“Thief, there’s been a thief, we’ve been robbed! Find him or you won’t get paid, you sons of bitches!” Merill ducked into the shadows as she heard more than thirty blades being drawn and footfalls everywhere as the sellswords spread out. It was now or never. Merill shouldered her bow, knowing she’d move faster without it, and made a mad sprint for the bridge, seizing a torch off a post as she passed it.

“There!” someone shouted, and Merill felt an arrow graze her cheek. Her face stung as she rolled out of the light on the bridge and stumbled into one of the hives. Disturbed bees swarmed out, landing sharply on her exposed hands as she plunged the torch into the straw around the hive. Instantly, the hive turned into a column of fire, bees swarming and filling the air, stinging her hands as arrows flew by. Merill rolled to the side, lighting another beehive then lobbing the torch into the third just as the mercenaries reached her. Merill punched the first one squarely in the face and he reeled back, shouting as blood flooded his nose, and she sprinted past the burning hives and vaulted up onto the top of the fence as the others screamed.

Merill turned to the water, readying herself for a jump, and just as she dove into the air an arrow struck her in the shoulder. She shouted in spite of herself, twisting in the air with the sudden pain. She hit the water sharply, the sudden cold of it soaking into her skin, and despite the pain, she forced herself to kick down and swim as more arrows shot through the water, pain shooting through her arm every time she made a stroke forward. Eventually the barrage of arrows stopped, and when Merill finally emerged, gasping, on the opposite shore near Riften, shouts still permeated the air as columns of smoke from Goldenglow rose into the dark clouds. Merill quickly checked to be sure she had the loot she’d swiped before breaking off a small branch and biting down on it to distract her from the pain as she forced herself to climb back up into the hills where she could hide.

She downed a few healing potions to dull the pain and seized the arrow with one hand, clenching her eyes shut. It would be easier to remove it with someone else’s help, but she couldn’t risk walking into Riften with an arrow in her back and bleeding out before she reached the Cistern. Hoping she would be able to draw it out straight, Merill took a deep breath and yanked the shaft out of her shoulder, biting down hard on the branch to stifle her gasp. She quickly lay on her stomach and doused the wound with a healing potion, deadening the pain. When she could move her shoulder again with only a dull ache, Merill abandoned the offending arrow and started over the hills toward Riften, knowing that the mercenaries would soon be combing the hills around the lake. The sooner she was back in the Cistern, the safer she’d be.

Dawn broke as she slipped into Riften and moved quietly through the back alleys, past face-down drunks and grime-smeared beggars that paid her little mind. She went around to the graveyard and activated the guild’s secret entrance without being disturbed. The cistern was quiet, a few of the guild members sleeping in the beds that lined its walls, though Merill spotted Brynjolf and Mercer talking quietly by Mercer’s desk. Merill threw down her hood and tossed her hair out, pulling out the sack and the document she’d stolen from Aringoth’s safe. She strode right up to them and threw both items unceremoniously down on Mercer’s desk. She returned Mercer’s glare as she crossed her arms.

“Do I pass?” she asked sharply, and Mercer gave her a sour expression and turned sharply, marching furiously across the cistern toward the Flagon.

“I suppose the word that Goldenglow’s been hit is true, then,” Brynjolf said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Well done, lass.” He picked up the parchment she’d thrown down on Mercer’s desk. “Let’s see what you found,” he said, breaking the seal and unfolding it.

“What is it?” Merill asked, and when Brynjolf didn’t reply she snatched it lightly out of his hands to read it for herself.

“Aringoth sold Goldenglow,” Brynjolf said, surprised, as Merill scanned the bill of sale. “What’s that idiot thinking? He has no idea the extent of Maven’s fury when she’s been cut out of a deal, but I’m certain he’ll find out.” Brynjolf pulled the document down so they both could see it and pointed to the symbol that marked the top of it, what looked like a dagger in front of a black circle. “Any idea what this might be?” he asked, and Merill shook his head, handing the bill over. “Blast,” Brynjolf muttered, folding the document and tucking it into his pocket. “Well, I’ll check my sources and speak to Mercer. But for now, you’re off to speak to Maven Black-Briar. She asked for you by name.” Merill narrowed her eyes.

“And how does she know my name?”

“Maven has eyes everywhere, not just in the Guild. If she wants to find someone, she will. And anyway, it isn’t a social visit. It’s business.” Merill crossed her arms.

“What does she want?” Brynjolf leaned against Mercer’s desk and offered her a wry smile. “That’s between you and Maven, and I prefer to keep it that way. Don’t worry about it, though, lass, Maven’s business dealings usually involve quite a bit of gold for her people. Ah, speaking of which…” he opened one of Mercer’s desk drawers and pulled out a small sack, which he tossed over the table to her. “Your pay. Now get some rest, lass, you’ve earned it. Maven will meet you in The Bee and Barb around ten tonight.”