Walk by the Shadows

IX. Taking Care of Business

The Ratway was nothing more than the sewers that ran underneath Riften. The entrance was on the lower piers, below the ones the majority of Riften's citizens strolled; other than a few struggling businesses, only beggars and the poor lived down here.

And Macayla could see why: the canal reeked from the fisheries dumping their excess and no small cargo boats stirred the water. The air was still too; gates prevented the breeze off of Lake Honrich from bringing in fresh air and clearing the stench. The lower section of Riften wasn't a place people with standards willingly frequented. But perfect for thieves to reside comfortably without someone being nosy.

She found the door leading down into the Ratway, also guarded by an iron gate. She opened the first and shut it behind her, knowing not to leave any sign of her passing. Bracing herself for the possible smell, she opened the wooden door and wafted in the sourness. Macayla took a moment to adjust to the odor, then entered.

The lighting in the Ratway was poor, the walls oozed and dripped with moisture, and the air clammy and cold. Macayla kept Brynjolf's warning about lowlifes and skeevers in the front of her mind as she headed in deeper.

A brighter glow shone up ahead and Macayla slowed to a cautious approach as voices reverberated down to her. She crept to the lit opening to see two men arguing about their next planned raid. She wondered if they could be a part of the Thieves Guild, but their insistence for violence dismissed her thought—these were just crooks trying to score by any means necessary.

So Macayla stayed hidden in the shadows as she waited for them to disband. Their conversation ended and one started walking toward her as the other turned toward the tunnel behind him. The man heading for her was destined for the chair facing the entrance so he could be lookout. As soon as he passed her—not seeing her in the dark—Macayla slipped behind him and hurried for the opening the other man entered. Within, she found him on a bedroll, facing away from her, asleep. She snuck by him and kept going.

The Ratway twisted and turned, and there were many nooks that didn't lead anywhere. Macayla was careful not to step in what appeared to be puddles of water... at least, she hoped it was water. She came upon a large opening with a space separating her from the other side, the wooden drawbridge connecting it raised, and the floor down below her leading to another tunnel. She couldn't see a rope she could shoot to drop it.

"Of course," she muttered as she prepared to drop down to the lower level. She twisted to hold on to the ledge to lessen the impact of her fall as she let go. Straightening up, she headed for the next opening.

Raspy breathing warned her of skeevers—filthy, enlarged rats. Macayla crouched down as she pulled out her bow and notched an arrow. She peered around the wall to see one of the vermin sniffing the air in the tunnel, aware of her presence. She didn't have much time before it pinpointed her, so she stepped away from the wall and shot it. It fell away from her and hit the wall of the tunnel, dead. Macayla pulled her arrow out of it; it still had its point, so she kept it notched as she walked down the tunnel—it was never just one skeever.

She found more lurking about and killed them all. She found more lowlifes too: one so quiet and guarded by bear traps she almost didn't see him and a woman mumbling nonsense to herself, obviously crazy. Macayla finally came to the room she would've entered if the drawbridge had been down. She considered going to lower it when she saw the lowlife in the room, his back to her and reading a book, but facing the raised drawbridge. There wouldn't be a way she could do it without being seen.

There were also two doors: an iron gate leading back toward the entrance and the wooden one down some steps to her right. She felt drawn to take the latter, so she kept behind the man's line of sight as she crept to the door. She opened the door and pulled it shut behind her.