Chapter Four

“Vekel, could you get my new friend and I a few drinks? We have a lot to discuss.” The man behind the bar cast a curious look at Noren, bringing up two clean mugs to fill with ale. Brynjolf offered a silent toast before taking a long draw from his glass. “Color me impressed, lad! I wasn’t sure if I would ever see you again.” He looked at Inigo, who hovered just behind his recruit. “Although, I don’t exactly remember telling you it was alright to bring a friend.”

Noren smirked. “Where I go, he follows. I promise you, there is no need for concern with him. You would be hard pressed to find someone as well suited to the work you seem to have planned for me.”

“Any trouble on your way here?” The man asked. Noren shrugged.

“Getting here was easy. Honestly, the only part that was mildly irritating was the smell. Those wretches camping out in the Ratway don’t smell the best.”

Bryn chuckled. “Reliable, and headstrong… You’re turning out to be quite the prize. And I suppose we can see about your associate here. So, now that I’ve whetted your appetite… How about handling some deadbeats for me?”

The elf cocked an eyebrow. “Deadbeats? What did they do?”

“They owe our organization some serious coin, and have decided not to pay.” He sat back in his chair. “I want you to explain to them the error of their ways.”

“Sounds good to me. Who are they, and where can I find them?”

“Haelga, proprietor of the Riften Bunkhouse. Bersi Honey-Hand, owner of the Pawned Prawn. And Keerava, owner of the Bee and Barb here in Riften. Do this right, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.”

The first two marks meant nothing to Noren. Keerava was another matter. She had been so kind to him when he arrived. He pushed the feelings down for now in order to continue the conversation. “How do you want me to handle it?”

Brynjolf scratched his beard as he thought. “Honestly, the debt is secondary here. What’s more important is that you get the message across: ‘We are not to be ignored’. Word of warning though…” He sent a glare that chilled the bone. “I don’t want any of them killed. Bad for business.”

Inigo piped up, leaning on the table. “Will my friend be getting a cut? I should point out that it would be unwise to try and short change him. He does not work for free.”

Brynjolf gave a half smile to the khajiit. “Of course he’ll get a cut. We take care of our own. If the two of you need any details on your marks, I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Tell me about Haelga.” Noren drank from his mug, astonished at the quality of the mead the Flagon was serving.

“Haelga is a devout follower of Dibella. Woman dotes over the statue of her that she keeps in the Bunkhouse. If you use the statue as leverage, I promise you she’ll cave.”

Noren made a note of that fact. “And Bersi? What of him?”

Brynjolf scoffed. “He’s as pig-headed a man as you’ll ever meet. The key with him is that ugly dwarven vase he keeps in his shop. Although if you asked him, he would call it an urn. Smash it to bits, and he’ll change his attitude.”

Noren made to stand. Inigo stopped him. “And do you have any tips for how to handle Keerava?” The altmer tried to hide the pang of guilt that shot through his chest.

Brynlojf pondered the question. “Keerava is stubborn, but she’s got a soft spot for her family. Talk to Talen-jei at the Bee and Barb and see what he can give you. They’re… well-acquainted, if you catch my meaning.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Thank you in advance. We’ll be back with the coin.” He tossed back what remained in his mug. “That’s a good drink. Here’s to another round later.”

Bryn raised his glass in agreement. “All eyes are on you, lad. Don’t disappoint us. Walk in the shadows.”

Noren offered a nod and made to leave. The large man eyed him, then looked at Inigo with a growl. The cat allowed his teeth to shine back at their bouncer. The man may have been a mountain of muscles, but he was sure that it would be no issue to cut him down to more manageable pieces. He let his breath out as soon as they were beyond the door. “That was perhaps not the most welcoming place I have been.”

“Maybe, but I can’t really blame them for being cautious. They wouldn’t be hiding down here if they didn’t have a reason to.”

“I just hope they pay you well. I won’t just stand by and let them take advantage of how hard you work.”

Noren let the firm attitude he had used with Brynjolf fall. “Should I be doing this, Inigo? These people have done nothing to me, and now I am going to extort them.” Inigo tilted his head.

“These people don’t understand what they are doing to themselves by trying the Thieves Guild. I won’t try to say the Guild is not without its moral dilemmas. But for the most part, they do a lot of good for the people of Riften. They act as an intermediary between the lowly shop keeps and the powerful and connected. Bersi for example. I know for a fact that his shop has been eyed more than once by the Black-Briar family for additional space. Aging mead is no compact operation. The protection money the guild takes is used to somehow keep the man from being run out of town. Think about it. What else could they be taking it for? It has to be a means of running interference. Granted, I doubt they will overtly admit to it. From what I have heard, they are just as much in the employ of the Black-Briars as they are protectors from them. It may feel like you are doing wrong on the surface, but we are not in possession of all the facts.”

There was truth in this. And at any rate, he would be hard pressed to get anywhere with his pursuit of magical knowledge if he turned down the chance at paid work when it was available. From what Bryn had told him before, there would be no shortage of that with the Guild. “Thank you, Inigo. I guess it bothers me a little. I shouldn’t be dragging you into all of this. You worked so hard to leave your bandit past behind.” 

The Khajiit grinned with mischief practically oozing from him. “Not so far behind that I cannot call on the skills when needed. Do not worry. I will tell you if and when you are approaching a line I am unwilling to cross.”

The men made their way through the sewer without much worry. It seemed their earlier exploits in the damp tunnels had made the stretch between their new friends’ hide out and the canal entrance seem a lot less appealing to the rabble. Noren breathed deeply of the air once they left the Ratway. The night air was cool. He could hear the lapping of small waves against the canal gate as he climbed to the market level. Clouds had taken over the sky while they had been underground. From the sound of things, the night crowd of the tavern had not settled at all. Noren looked to the Bee and Barb, deciding that his work would wait until the morning. “Inigo, do you mind if I borrow your lute?”

The khajiit wore a puzzled look. “The one in my cell? I suppose I do not mind. You are aware that it has quite a few holes in it at this point, right?”

“It should be okay. I just think the night could use a little music. Come on. Let’s grab it and join the fun before the guards make us stop.”

A few minutes later, they were entering the tavern. It looked as though the whole town was packed inside. Noren wore the old lute on his back, making his way to the bar to speak with Keerava. “Good evening, Keerava. I see business is booming tonight.”

She gave him a toothy grin. “Indeed it is! Do you want something to drink? Or are you after something to eat?”

The high elf shook his head. “I was actually wanting to ask you if you would mind if I played a little. I thought a little music might help keep things going strong.” He pointed to the lute on his back. The argonian broke into an excited smile.

“Absolutely! My goodness, it’s been so long since we’ve had any entertainment here. I think it was the last time Torvald visited Riften. Please, play whatever you like. If you do well, there might even be some coin in it for you.” She went back to serving her customers, leaving the choice of song and location to him.

He settled on the East wall. It was unobstructed, and could be seen easily from all parts of the dining area. He swung the instrument free and raised his hand to get the attention of the guests. “Good evening, friends! How are you all doing this evening?” A few of the more socially loose patrons gave a cheer, most just giving him a polite murmur. “It seems to me that all we are lacking tonight is a little song. Does anyone have any requests?”

One fellow asked for ‘Ragnar the Red’, to which the rest of the patrons booed with a startling amount of unity. A woman in the corner in plate iron raised her voice. “Don’t worry about what we want to hear, bard! Sing us what you want to sing, and we will know you better for it.” There was a general agreement among the people. Noren bowed, knowing immediately what he would sing.

He strummed the strings, checking the tone before starting. His fingers worked gently on the neck, the music drifting above the noise, bringing the room to an eerie level of quiet. He felt his face growing warm as his nerves threatened to take over. Pushing the thought away, he began. His voice was sweet, clear and crisp.

“Lost to sea, a young heart will be; As wave after wave strikes the shore; And gulls on the wing, tidings they bring; of a land we’ll see no more. Fare thee well child, who’s heart belongs at home. Seek thy way, lest thy be hidden in the loam; The ocean tide will follow you wherever you roam; And what you knew once will now be forgotten in the foam; Dream the dream, of places you knew; Keep them close, keep them long and keep them bold; Forget not a detail of all that you’ve been through; As you cling to your memories strong.”

For a moment, he worried that he might have chosen something too depressive. But his fear was dispelled instantly by the roar of approval from the bar. The woman in armor nodded her approval, raising a mug to him. The table of drunk men began to beat their steins on the table as they chanted. “Skald! Skald! Skald!”

He strummed the start of a new song, his smile bright as he began. “Bards often share tales of heros with flair; like Ysmir and Olaf One-Eye. But none can compare to Eyldi the Bear; who moved heaven and earth with her cry!”

He ended up playing well into the early hours, only stopping once everyone started making their way to the exits. Keerava took him by the hand, thanking him for his work. “I can’t even begin to describe how nice it was to have everyone enjoying the night so much. Here, payment, for a job well done! And to think I was saving that money for Brynjolf and his ilk! There’s a bed for you upstairs as well, if you want it. Talen and I would love it if you could make your performances a somewhat regular occurrence while you are in Riften. It’s so good to have something nice happen to the town for once.” She patted his hand, heading back to the bar to finish cleaning up for the night. Noren pocketed the purse, glad that he hadn’t ended up having to collect from her the way Brynlojf had suggested.

“Well played, my friend! You were fantastic. I never knew you could sing. Why have you never told me of your skill? We could have been performing all this time! I sing a little as well. Most of my songs are personal though. I might be convinced to sing them for you, but I would prefer if we saved them for the Bard’s College in Solitude.”

“I’d never felt like performing before now. I needed something to take my mind off of all the work I’ve been doing. To say nothing about what I still have to look forward to. I feel like my days of struggle have only just begun.”

Inigo shrugged. “Maybe so, but at least you know you do not have to face it alone. Go get some rest my friend. I will go and catch a few winks myself. We have a few people to see tomorrow. Maybe we can find a solution like this for those meetings too.” He gave a winning grin. “Goodbye for now, Noren. Pleasant dreams.”

The mage sat on the bed a few minutes later, looking around at the little room the argonians had so kindly set aside for him. Inigo might be right. Maybe, if they were clever, they could get the coin for the guild, without causing too much trouble for the people involved. It was worth thinking about while he waited for sleep to come to him. He allowed a smile to form on his lips as he felt the approach of dreams. After everything that had happened to him in the past week, he was getting comfortable with a fact he had almost labeled impossible.

Maybe he could do something worthwhile.