A new chapter will be posted every other Saturday unless otherwise noted here.

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Saturday, March 14, 2015

XV - The Winking Skeever

Days passed, and the other thieves quickly stopped asking her about Mistveil when they realised she would try to crack her fist across their jaws when they did. The Jarl didn’t send any guards down to the Ratway, though, so they assumed they were safe for the time being. She did a few odd jobs on her own, still frustrated with Brynjolf, and spent the time in between hunting in the forests around the city, glad for a chance to take her mind off her anger – anger at Vex, Brynjolf, Nalimir, the lot of them. Nalimir, mercifully, didn’t try to breach the subject with her, but the mere sight of him made her fume. He’d always been the smarter one, she knew. But you always have to do things my way, he would be thinking.

Nearly a week after the disaster in Mistveil, Merill sat with Niruin, the Guild’s other archer, in the cistern’s training room. Niruin was a pleasant elf who loved to share stories filled with swooping bravado of his heroism and clever heists. Despite his grandeur, Merill liked his company, and they often shot at the dummies in the training room together, trying to see who could land closer to the arteries marked in red paint. They’d been shooting for the better part of an hour, and sat now on the mats laid out on the ground, Merill listening as Niruin entertained her with a tale of how he brought an entire troop of bandits to their knees with a single well-placed arrow. It was here that Brynjolf found her, his arms crossed as he entered the room.
“Mercer’s looking for you, lass,” he said, interrupting Niruin’s tale. They both looked up at him, Merill with some poorly-disguised annoyance.
“What’s he want?” she asked, getting to her feet. Niruin gave her a nod and shouldered his bow, going to pull his arrows out of the dummy as Merill followed Brynjolf down the hall.
“I think he’s got a lead on whoever’s been working against us,” Brynjolf told her as they crossed into the main room of the Cistern. “Let’s hope we can get it sorted out. With you around, the Guild’s been getting a bit more repute. I’d hate to lose that to some double-crossing skeever that’s trying to bring us down.”
“You don’t think this is to get at the Black-Briars?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Brynjolf said sharply, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. “The Black-Briars and the Guild work hand-in-hand. Maven funnels more money into this organization than anyone else, even you or Vex. If the Black-Briars go down, we go down. We can’t let that happen.” They locked eyes for moment and Merill narrowed hers. “Listen…” he started, and she turned away.
“We should see what Mercer wants,” she told him coolly, and she heard him give an annoyed huff as he passed her. Merill followed Brynjolf across the bridge to where Mercer pored over a ledger on his desk, frustratedy tearing through the pages.
“Mercer,” Brynjolf said, and he looked up.
“You. Good.” Mercer slammed the ledger shut. “I’ve consulted my contacts regarding the information you recovered from Goldenglow, but no one can identify that symbol.”
“It was at the meadery too,” Merill told him, and Mercer scratched his beard, irritated.
“It would seem our adversary is attempting to take us apart indirectly by angering Maven Black-Briar. Very clever.”
“They won’t be as clever with an arrow through their skull,” Merill snapped, and Mercer’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t dismiss our adversary so easily,” he told her shortly. “They’re well-funded and have been able to avoid identification for years. But don’t mistake my admiration for complacency. Our nemesis is going to pay dearly. Even after all their posturing and planning, they’ve made a mistake.” Brynjolf crossed his arms.
“I didn’t notice anything,” he said, and Mercer went on.
“The parchment you recovered mentions a ‘Gajul-Lei.’ That’s an old alias used by one of our contacts.”
“Gulum-Ei, isn’t it?” Brynjolf said, and Mercer nodded. “Eh, Nalimir, lad, come here!” Nalimir, who had been talking quietly with Rune on the other end of the cistern, looked up, his face betraying nothing as he tucked the book in his hands under his arm and crossed toward them.
“Gulum-Ei’s a slimy bastard,” Mercer spat as Nalimir joined them. “He’s our inside man at the East Empire Company in Solitude.” Merill frowned, sensing the direction this was headed in. “I’m betting he acted as a go-between for the sale of Goldenglow so that he can finger our buyer. Get out there, shake him down, and see what you can come up with.” With that, Mercer flipped the ledger back open, waving them both away.
“I can’t believe Gulum-Ei’s the one mixed up in all this,” Brynjolf muttered as they crossed the Cistern. “That Argonian couldn’t find his tail with both hands.”
“It seems he’s smartened up, then,” Nalimir remarked. “Since I last saw him, at least.”
“Don’t get me wrong, he could scam a beggar out of his last Septim…but he’s no mastermind,” Mercer murmured.”
“Think he’ll give me trouble?” Merill pressed, and Brynjolf turned to face her, giving a shot, humourless laugh.
“Trouble? He’s the most stubborn lizard I’ve ever met. You’ll have your work cut out for you, lass. Buying him off’ll be the only way to get his attention. If that fails, follow him and see what he’s up to. If I know Gulum-Ei, he’s in way over his head and you’ll be able to use it as leverage. Just keep the bastard alive.” He clapped Nalimir on the shoulder. “Nalimir, you take this one with the lass. Gulum-Ei might be a bit more receptive to a…familiar face.”
“You’ve dealt with him before?” Merill asked Nalimir, and he nodded.
“Once or twice,” he said, looking annoyed. “He shouldn’t cause us too much trouble, though.”
They left the following morning, heading out before the sun rose and starting the long trek northward, bundled deep in their cloaks as they moved north through the air that grew colder as they went, the wind that cut down sharply from the mountains.
“So,” Nalimir said at some point, breaking the tense silence that had stretched between them. “You want to talk about what happened in Mistveil?” Merill cast him a sharp look.
“What makes you think I want to talk about it?” she snapped. Nalimir shrugged.
“You’d always liked to talk before. Gods, Mer, I know you’re proud, but you messed up. It happens.”
I didn’t mess up,” Merill snarled, stopping on the path. Nalimir turned to face her. “Vex ratted me out to the Jarl and rigged up traps for them. This wasn’t my fault.”
“Hey,” Nalimir protested, holding up his gloved hands. “Mer, I’m not the enemy here.” Merill glared hotly at him for a moment before letting her shoulders drop.
“I know,” she grumbled, starting down the road again. Nalimir fell into step beside her.
“People in the guild like you fine, you know,” he told her after a moment. “You’ve brought in some good money for us, and you don’t take shit from Vex or Mercer.” Merill pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders.
“I can’t trust them,” she muttered. “I can’t trust anyone.” Nalimir didn’t reply – he didn’t have to. He felt the same way. Instead, he looped an arm around her shoulder, and they walked in silence until night fell.
They arrived in Solitude the following evening, the air sharp and thin and the steely clouds saturated with anxious snow. There weren’t many people out – despite Solitude’s location in the northern reaches of Skyrim, the days were often sunny and crisp, and when cold beckoned everyone tended to shut themselves up by the hearth. Sure enough, when Merill and Nalimir slipped into the Winking Skeever and tugged their hoods down, the inn was crowded, people grouped around the bar and the tables, chatting and laughing as they shared the news of the day. Merill scanned the faces of the inn-goers until she spotted the only Argonian in the inn, slouching by the fire with a tankard curled in his claws. Merill caught his eye and waved him over to an empty side room.
“What do we have here?” he hissed as he joined her away from the babble of the crowd. “Let me guess.” His nostrils flared. “An ugly Nord with one eye? By your scent, I’d say you were from the Guild. But that can’t be true, because I told Mercer I wouldn’t deal with them anymore.” Nalimir sidled into the room beside her, and the Argonian’s face soured as Merill took a seat at the table across from him, folding her hands in front of her.
“Nalimir,” he said darkly. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again anytime soon.”
“Wrong again, Gulum-Ei,” Nalimir told him airily as he leaned up against the wall, blocking the rest of the inn from seeing into the side room.
“I’m here about Goldenglow Estate,” Merill said.
“I don’t deal in land or property,” the Argonian said dismissively, swilling the ale around in his tankard. “Now, if you’re looking for goods, you’ve come to the right person.”
“Drop the act, Gajul-Lei,” Merill snapped, and if Argonians had the ability to go pale, he would have then.
“Oh, you said Goldenglow Estate? My apologies. I’m sorry to say I know very little about that…bee farm, was it?”
“Is that so? Strange, since you acted as a broker for its new owner,” Nalimir remarked.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” Gulum-Ei retorted, his voice adopting an oily, falsely polite tone. “I can’t be expected to remember every deal I handle.”
“Remember this one,” Merill hissed, leaning forward, and Gulum-Ei swallowed.
“Y…You kill me and your only contact with the East Empire Company vanishes. That’s not smart for business.”
“What do you want?”
“I have a buyer looking for a case of Firebrand Wine,” Gulum-Ei replied instantly, as if he had been waiting for her to ask. “There just so happens to be a single case in the Blue Palace.”
“Or,” she replied simply, “we could dump you in the river and hire some other underpaid fool in the Company to give us what we need.”
“Fine, fine!” he said hastily. “Keep your voice down! I’ll tell you what I know about Goldenglow.” Merill raised her brows, waiting expectantly. “I was approached by a woman who wanted me to act as the broker for something big. She flashed a bag of gold in my face and said all I had to do was pay Aringoth for the estate. I brought him the coin and walked away with her copy of the deed.”
“Did she tell you why she was doing this?” Merill asked.
“No,” Gulum-Ei responded lightly. “I tend not to ask too many questions when I’m on the job. I’m sure you understand. But she did seem quite angry at Mercer Frey.”
“That’s it?” Merill snapped, leaning in. “No name or anything?”
“In this business we rarely deal in names,” Gulum-Ei told her scathingly. “Our identity comes from how much coin we carry.” Merill reached over, quick as light, and snatched the front of his tunic, pulling him close.
“I think you’re lying to me,” she hissed beneath the cheerful babble of the diners and the singing bard. She heard Nalimir directing someone away from the side room. She had to work quickly, before the other diners noticed the altercation in the side room.
“Look, that’s all I know,” Gulum-Ei said hastily. “I never promised you I’d have all the answers.” He pushed her away. “Now, since our transaction is done, I’ll be on my way.” Gulum-Ei hastily snatched up his letter and pushed past Nalimir toward the inn’s exit. Merill jumped up and made to chase him, but Nalimir caught her arm.
“Let’s follow him,” he murmured. “Catch him in a place he’s more vulnerable.”
For a shrewd information broker, Gulum-Ei wasn’t very skilled at watching his back. Merill and Nalimir kept their distance, just enough to keep an eye on him, and when he left the city they kept to the greenery, watching from behind the leaves and silently following him as he made his way down to the docks, moving skillfully and silently through after him as they did when they hunted. It was easy to slip around the guards in the shipyard and follow Gulum-Ei to the East Empire Company Warehouse, built into the mountain atop which the city was situated.
“I’ll follow him in,” Merill said as they watched Gulum-Ei slide through the door. “We’ll attract too much attention if we both go.”
“I’ll meet you back up at the inn, then,” Nalimir muttered, and she gave him a nod before she crept into the warehouse after the Argonian. It was situated in a colossal cavern in the rock beneath the city. The floor of the cavern was water with the warehouse built around it on wooden platforms that encircled the area. Merill could see the vague shapes of a few ships and structures through the cavern’s haze, all of them laden with cargo.
There were a few torches about on the walls, but the cavern was still dim, making it easy for Merill to duck behind boxes to shadow Gulum-Ei. At some point, he began weaving around the narrow passages between shelves of supplies, and Merill found a ramp leading up to the top shelf, where she followed Gulum-Ei in a crouch, carefully stepping around open crates of cheese and lettuce and avoiding a small, quiet goat that had gotten loose somewhere and seemed to take a liking to following her about. There were guards patrolling the warehouse as well, and Merill managed to avoid them from the high shelves of storage. She silently thanked the gods for her narrow frame, knowing that if her muscle was any more prominent it would be nearly impossible to follow Gulum-Ei through the warehouse.
At some point, Merill went after the Argonian down below the docks to a door that led to a low-ceilinged cavern. There were more guards here, but they looked more like hired thugs than East Empire hires. They were tired and over-confident, a combination that was easy to slip past.
By the time she reached the end of the grotto, Merill’s feet were cold and wet and she had long grown too tired to be dealing with an arrogant, annoying Argonian broker. She found Gulum-Ei sitting in a cavern surrounded by bandits, perched at a small table and writing something. Merill slipped into one of two small boats just outside the cavern, drawing her bow. When the first bandit went down without so much as a cry, an arrow shooting through his skull, Gulum-Ei jumped up, drawing a quivering dagger and staring around. The other bandits drew their weapons and began to fan out, searching, but Merill had more arrows ready and took the mercenaries out one by one before they even had an inkling of where she was. When Gulum-Ei was alone, surrounded by his dead hirelings, Merill jumped lightly from the boat and strode toward him, pulling down her hood and letting her red hair spill free.
“N…Now, there’s no need to do anything…anything rash…” Gulum-Ei stammered, backing up and holding the dagger out before him. “This isn’t as bad as it seems. I was going to tell Mercer about everything, honestly! Please…he’ll have me killed!”
“Unless I beat him to it,” Merill snarled, flipping the dagger out of his hand and into hers in one swift move.
“No, please!” Gulum-Ei murmured, backing up. “There’s no need for that. I’ll tell you everything!”
“Start telling, then.”
“Karliah!” he cried out. “Her name is Karliah!”
“You say that name like I should know it,” Merill said, turning the dagger over in her hand. It was a good dagger – Dwemer, of a solid weight. She might have to hang onto it.
“Mercer never told you about her?” Gulum-Ei asked, and Merill stopped turning the dagger. “Karliah is responsible for murdering the previous guild master, Gallus. Now she’s after Mercer.”
“And you’re helping her?” Merill asked furiously. Mercer may be an arrogant ass, but he had given her a place and a job.
“No, no!” Gulum-Ei said at once. “Look, I didn’t even know it was her until she contacted me! You have to believe me!”
“Where is she?” Merill asked, brandishing the dagger, and Gulum-Ei backed up into the crates stacked behind him.
“I don’t know,” he replied hastily. “When I asked her where she was going she just muttered ‘Where the end began.’” He reached over to the table, picking up an official-looking bit of parchment. “Here, take the Goldenglow Estate deed as proof. And when you speak to Mercer, tell him I’m worth more to him alive.”
Mercer Frey was just as furious as Merill had expected when she and Nalimir returned with the news.
“I haven’t heard that name in years,” he snarled, his hand curling into a fist. “I never thought I’d have to cross paths with that bitch again.” Merill and Nalimir exchanged a glance – whoever Karliah was, she had been before Nalimir’s time. He hadn’t recognized the name either.
“You mind explaining to me why Gulum-Ei said she was a murderer?” Merill asked, crossing her arms. Mercer began to pace furiously behind his desk, clearly agitated.
“Karliah destroyed everything this guild stood for,” he snapped. “She murdered my predecessor in cold blood and betrayed the Guild. After we discovered what she’d done, we spent months trying to track her down, but she just vanished.”
“So why’s she come back?” Merill asked. Mercer turned abruptly, heading into the training room and jerking his head for them to follow him.
“Karliah and I were like partners,” he told her as they came into the empty chamber. “I went with her on every heist. We watched each other’s backs.” Mercer drew his blade from its scabbard and began to hack furiously at a practice dummy, his words mingling with angry snarls. “I knew her –ngh! – techniques, her skills. If she kills me – argh! – there’ll be no one – left – that could possibly – kill – her!” Mercer turned to Merill, wiping away the sweat that had beaded on his brow. “If only we knew where she was.”
“Gulum-Ei told me she said, ‘Where the end began.’”
“There’s only one place that could be,” Mercer said, sheathing his sword and picking up a dirty rag to wipe his hands. “The place where she murdered Gallus…a ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum. I need to check with some of my informants. When we’ve got her pinned, you and I are going out there before she disappears again.”
“We?” Merill repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. We’re going to kill her. You and me. Nalimir, I need you back with Etienne from here on out,” he added, and Nalimir nodded. With that, Mercer stepped past Merill and headed for the exit. “Do some jobs. I’ll send someone for you when it’s time to go.” Annoyed, Merill followed him out to the main area of the Cistern, which was frustratingly calm. She turned to Nalimir, hoping for a chance to talk, but he was already moving toward the cistern.
“I’d better check in with Etienne,” he was saying, and with that, Merill was left alone, leaning against the posts over the water. I’m tired of being kept in the dark, she thought savagely.
“What’s got Mercer riled up?” Merill turned and saw Brynjolf had joined her, looking curiously after the guildmaster. Merill paused. Was Brynjolf there when Karliah murdered Gallus? She supposed he must have been…he’d been in the Guild longer than Nalimir, at least.
“Hell if I know,” she replied shortly, trying unsuccessfully to shake the dampness of the Cistern out of her untamed red curls. “He’s been an ass to me since I got here.”
“Mercer treats everyone like that,” Brynjolf said offhandedly, and while Merill’s temper threatened to flare, she managed to keep it in check.
“How long have you been here?” she asked Brynjolf, and he, too, looked surprised that she hadn’t lashed out.
“I stopped keeping track of the years after a while, lass,” he told her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why?”
“Did you ever know someone called Karliah?” Brynjolf’s face darkened almost at once.
“Who told you about Karliah?” he asked, his voice low, almost dangerous.
“So you knew her?” Merill pressed.
“Yes, I knew her,” Brynjolf snapped suddenly as he turned his back, making Merill, so used to his easy nature, startle. “She’s the bitch that ruined this guild. And I don’t take kindly to you coming in here and drudging up old memories.”
“You were the one that invited me here,” Merill said, surprised at his sudden outburst. Brynjolf wheeled suddenly around to face her.
“I’ve poured my life into this guild, lass, and I gave you a place when you were wandering around Riften like a lost pup. I know everyone in this dump’s showered praise on you and told you how much they love that fire, how you’re sharp as a whip and twice as sly, but down here, we’re a family. Most people in here don’t have a single other person to call their own, and we take them in. You may be a good thief, girl, but that doesn’t mean anything if you can’t learn to cooperate.”
“You don’t know anything about me!” Merill snarled, her face growing hot.
“You’re not as difficult to figure out as you think you are,” he shot back.
“I know what I’m doing,” Merill snarled, and he crossed his arms.
“Really? Because it seems to me all you do is trust your instincts and hope it goes well.”
“I don’t –”
“That stunt you pulled in Mistveil was stupid,” he pushed on. “You could have gotten both of us killed.”
“But I didn’t, did I?”
“You’re not invincible, girl,” Brynjolf hissed. “You’re not going to be able to slip out of every situation you get yourself into.”
“I don’t pretend I am,” Merill snapped. She started away, then paused, turning sharply. “And I’ve got a name. The next time you call me ‘lass’ you’ll regret it.” She turned on her heel, forcing herself not to look back as she shoved through the cupboard door and into the tavern, her face hot. The Flagon was quiet, as it usually was around this time of day, but Merill spotted someone unfamiliar leaning over Delvin’s usual table, a tall, dark-robed figure with two brassy gold braids over her shoulders.
“Silronwe?”
The Altmer looked up from the parchment she was peering over with Delvin, the surprise clear on her face. She no longer wore the heavy makeup from the Thalmor party, but her eyes were still lined with dark kohl, and there was color on her lips and on her high cheekbones.
“Merill!” Silronwe said pleasantly, and Delvin twisted in his seat to see her. “I nearly didn’t recognize you without that clever eyepatch.”
“What are you doing here?” Merill asked, puzzled, as Silronwe beckoned her over to the table. Silronwe noticed her glancing at the papers spread out and the Altmer smoothly drew a blank bit of parchment over them to block Merill’s gaze.
“Business,” Silronwe told her lightly, folding up the parchment and tucking it inside her robe. It was a billowing black and red hooded tunic over similarly-colored leggings, looking oddly formidable against Silronwe’s brightness. “My organization often works closely with yours, and every now and then we call in a favor.”
“Give Astrid my best,” Delvin told her, sliding a few coins into his purse.
“Ah, Nalimir! I thought you must be here too!” Silronwe exclaimed, her face brightening, and Merill turned to see Nalimir climbing the bridge up to the bar, a folded scrap of parchment in his hands.
“Good to see you,” he told Silronwe, and she smiled. Merill felt a pang of annoyance.
“What’s your organization?” Merill asked sharply, and they both turned to look at her.
“Oh, that’s –”
“She’s with the Brotherhood, obviously,” Delvin crowed from his table. “Hard to miss when you lot wear those silly capes.” Silronwe flushed.
“That’s…” She bit her lip and turned back to them, shrugging. “Suppose there’s no use hiding it now, then.”
“You’re with the Dark Brotherhood?” Nalimir asked in an undertone, clearly impressed. Merill was too, though she refused to admit it. She had thankfully never met one of the Brotherhood face to face, but had heard all manner of stories about the ruthless organization that trained the most lethal and cutthroat mercenaries in Tamriel. She remembered Silronwe’s quick and easy skill with killing in the Embassy, and wondered why she was surprised.
“A fairly recent development,” Silronwe told them humbly. “When my travels brought me to Skyrim, they offered me a position.” There was something guarded in the way she said this, though Merill resisted the urge to pry.
“Oh, before I forget,” Nalimir said suddenly, holding the parchment out to Merill. “Just arrived from Riverwood.” Merill hastily tore the letter open, her eyes scanning down the page as Nalimir and Silronwe chatted.

Merill – Esbern’s found the location of Alduin’s Wall. It’s near a Forsworn camp in the Reach, just south of Karthwasten. We’re leaving now. Come meet us the moment you get this.

D

“Delphine’s found Sky Haven Temple,” Merill said, and she regretted it almost at once.
Sky Haven Temple?” Silronwe exclaimed. “Really?”
“You know it?”
“It’s in every book about this province,” she said excitedly. “The Akaviri built it thousands of years ago, with dozens of other temples, but most of them have been destroyed. Sky Haven was the most famous, but everyone thought it was gone as well! Have they really found it?”
“We should get going,” Merill told Nalimir pointedly.
“Why doesn’t Silronwe come along?” Merill’s gut hardened.
“She probably has better things to do,” she told him sharply.
“I’ve got a bit of a break, actually,” Silronwe told them lightly. “I mean, only if you don’t mind.”
“Silronwe,” Delvin said from over by the bar. “Come here a moment, let me have a look at that thing one more time.”
“Just a second,” she told them graciously, turning to meet Delvin across the bar.
“Come on, Mer,” Nalimir said at once. “You’ve seen her fight, she could be useful.”
“Aye, and she’s an Altmer in Skyrim,” Merill protested at once. “Crawling about after us. Don’t you think that’s a bit suspicious?”
“I thought she told you she wasn’t Thalmor.”
“And you expect me to take her word for it?” Merill asked coolly, crossing her arms. Brynjolf’s cruel words were already echoing in her head – she didn’t need Nalimir fawning over some Altmer girl who could turn them in to the Thalmor at any moment. “After everything – after Brelin?” That stung, and Merill regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. A shadow crossed Nalimir’s face, and his jaw turned to stone.
“Yeah, even after Dad,” he told her coldly. “You’ve got to learn to move on sometime, Merill. Not everybody’s out to get you.” He turned away, sharply, toward Silronwe, leaving Merill standing alone in the corner of the bar, her cheeks flushed and shame rooting her to the spot.


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