Walk by the Shadows

VI. Recruitment

"It's going to be hard to not do that to every place I rob now," Brynjolf said, after they had settled down to make camp for the night. They put five miles between them and the Yondis Trading Warehouse before they figured it safe to rest. Now he counted how many septims he had stolen. Beside him sat the tangled pile of jewelry he had snatched; he hadn't sorted through it yet.

Macayla smiled. "It was oddly satisfying, but I think I still prefer the slip-in-slip-out method."

He thought about it for a while as he continued to count—Macayla's tally reached three hundred and he still had groups to go. "I think I do too, but it's nice to change things up every now and then, though."

She checked the rabbits they had killed for dinner to make sure they weren't burning.

Brynjolf finished totaling his gold—364 septim. "Good haul; the Guild might need to swing back there after a few weeks." He turned to untangling the pile of silver and gold jewelry. It was a mixture of plain silver and gold rings to prettier pieces adorned with glinting jewels.

One piece caught her eye when he grabbed it to admire it in the firelight: a silver necklace with a circle-cut amethyst in the center.

"That looks like a necklace my mother used to have."

Brynjolf looked at her, then handed it over for her to look closer. "You think he took it from her for payment or robbed her body?"

"I wouldn't put either past him." She carefully looked it over, even finding her father's message to her mother scratched into the back when he gifted it to her: Walk by the Shadows, Semina. "Yes, this is it."

"You should keep it then," Brynjolf said. "A way to remember your family; plus that color would bring out your eyes."

"I've already told you I'm not the jewelry-type." Macayla tried to hand it back to him.

He lifted a hand to deny her. "No, keep it, lass; I'm sure your mother would've wanted you to have it, not a merchant and especially not Edvar Clear-Blood."

No matter how much she pushed, Brynjolf was reluctant to take it back. She considered the necklace; it was a pretty, dainty thing, and Brynjolf was right: the purple would accent the darker blue of her eyes. Macayla decided to keep it—it was the only physical piece she had of her family. She draped it over her head and looked at it settled perfectly on her chest like it was meant for her; after a while of admiring it, she tucked it underneath her jerkin to keep it hidden—the necklace was cool against her skin.

And besides, she could always sell it later if she needed to.

Their rabbit haunches didn't take long to cook; there wasn't much meat on the skinny legs, but Brynjolf had found some berries and, with the bread in his pack and water from a nearby stream, they had a decent meal.

A soft glow above her drew Macayla's eyes skyward: the dark blue of the night sky was alight with waves of purple and blue ribbons. The shine of many stars behind them couldn't compare to the fluorescent lights. Even though a harsh and cold place to live, Skyrim's night sky made it worthwhile.

She could watch them all night, mesmerized by the slow waves and odd light, but she looked back down to focus on her meal. But as she ate, the question of what to do now hit her hard. She had always been owned by Edvar Clear-Blood and told what to do; she was a good thief because of it—it was all she had ever known. But now, with her freedom, she didn't know where to go or what to do.

She looked at Brynjolf. Her skills would be an asset to his Thieves Guild—probably the only place her skills would be accepted. The idea of joining the guild seemed promising; she could find support and encouragement from a family of like-minded thieves; she would have security from knowing they had her back, and the thought of more gold was too tempting.

"Brynjolf," she began, and he looked up at her. "May I join the Thieves Guild? I don't have the slightest idea on what I could do now, but I know I'm tired of being alone. I'm a thief—I don't think I could ever be something else—so I might as well join something that looks for people like me."

He grinned after she finished. "You don't have to give me an explanation, lass; if you didn't ask to join, I was going to beg." He chuckled at himself. "You really impressed me at the warehouse; you got through all of those locks without breaking a single pick; you were quick, precise, and calm; you knew how to hide; you practically stayed in the shadows. You're damn right we need people like you!"

Macayla couldn't help but to smile at his compliments. Brynjolf sighing in defeat, though, had her heart freezing.

"If recruiting was up only to me, you'd be one of us in a heartbeat, but alas, it's not. You have to prove yourself to the Guild's First, Second, and Third. You've proven yourself to me—the First—but the other two have to be shown as well, and I can't just tell them."

Her heart began rising back up that at least she had a chance. "So, what do I have to do?"

He stretched out his legs as he leaned back against a tree. "Right now, I don't know. We'll return to Riften, I'll discuss it with the Second and Third, and we'll come up with your... test."

"Then what?"

"There'll be two more tests; one I know is whether or not you can reach us; the other depends on what we need. There are three parts for each potential recruit.

"But one crucial factor: we do not kill others, it's not what we do."

Macayla smirked. "That won't be too much of a problem, as long as it's not Edvar."

He smiled. "I'll make sure you're not given him as a job if we get him." His eyes took on a more eager gleam. "I sure am relieved that you're coming with me, lass."