Love and Bounty

Chapter Two: An Old Enemy

Rays of sunlight poured in through the stone-hewn window of the inn room as Hrolf strapped a bandolier across his broad chest, the buckles jingling with each one he fastened into place.

Kyne's wisdom proved itself fruitful. It hadn't taken long at all for things to start looking up. Jaree-Ra's amicable spirit put him at ease, even if his sister was more of an ice queen. With the straight scar under her left eye and her sour disposition, she seemed more like an unwashed thug than any employee of the Empire. Jaree-Ra could have talked some Imperial bureaucrat in Cyrodiil into letting his sister tag along, but Hrolf wasn't about to ask. He couldn't afford to ruin this for himself, no matter the hurdles that lay before him.

When he laid awake the night before, his mind was racing. This could all be some kind of ruse or scam—retribution for his earlier careers as bandit and thief. Maybe bounty hunters would be waiting for him at the job site, bearing torches like they did that day.

If that were the case, he'd take at least a few with him to Sovngarde.

As he secured the last of his leather armor, a flash of feathers soared past the window, and one feather—dusk-orange and pale—fluttered to the bustling streets below.

"Kyne be with me."

. . .

A tavern worker stoked the hearth, and Deeja watched as the embers swirled and the flames grew brighter. Her claws drummed on the table in tune with the bard's melodies—until she realized what she was doing.

Once she did, she crossed her arms tight over her chest and peered at Jaree-Ra from across the table. "How long do we have to wait here, brother?"

"Until the Nord gets here," he said. "He needs the details, and I just got them from our scouts this morning."

"Who'd you send?"

Jaree-Ra smiled. "One of your good friends, of course."

Ugh. This again. He must have meant Iscraah, a Wood Elf that joined the Blackbloods, along with her close Redguard friend, Sharai, over six months ago. Both had clean noses as far as the Solitude city guard was concerned, so they could come and go as they pleased, and Jaree-Ra made full use of that status. Since then, after plenty of sweeps and scouting, they and Deeja have gotten along fine—but strictly in a work sense. Truth be told, Sharai's sarcastic wit and Iscraah's eccentricity grated her nerves at times. Their way of having fun on the job was ridiculous.

But as much as she hated to admit it, they did good work.

Deeja scowled and tensed her claws against her biceps. "We just work together, Jaree. They're not my friends."

"Mhm." Jaree-Ra gave an impish grin. "Sure."

"Whatever," Deeja chuffed, followed by a grumbled reply: "At least it's been done with some competence."

He chuckled and took a swig of Black-Briar Mead from his tankard. "E~xactly."

The hearth crackled with life, staving off the unyielding cold of northern Skyrim. Black Marsh was so much warmer—and far less brutal on her dry scales. No matter how awful it got, though, she never made a peep. Jaree-Ra wouldn't let her live it down, and Hargar...

Anger rushed hot beneath her scales at the name.

Hargar...

"They're both here in the city, you know." A wide and teasing grin crossed Jaree-Ra's scaly, reptilian features. "They can take you to the stash when it's time, so get moving."

Deeja cocked her brow at him. "What?"

"I can handle the Nord," Jaree-Ra said. "Go meet them up on the wall by the gates. Lay low until he leaves, then follow him. Got it?"