Walk by the Shadows

XII. Resurrected

Brynjolf had the decency not to wrinkle his nose as she walked up to him, waiting for her in the middle of the Cistern to arrive. The others she passed by gave her looks when she came down through the hidden entrance in the graveyard—at least now she wouldn't smell of the Ratway.

"Word on the street is Goldenglow's been hit. Good job, lass. So, what you find?"

"Have a look." She handed him the Goldenglow Bill of Sale.

He quickly read through it. "Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What's that idiot thinking? He has no idea the extent of Maven's fury when she's been cut out of a deal; he'll find out soon though. If only the parchment had the buyer's name instead of this odd symbol. Do you have any ideas about what it is?"

"No; I was hoping you would."

"Blast. Well, maybe it's something we can work with. I'll check with Mercer to see if he knows it."

Speaking of him, Macayla looked over to his desk to find him not there—probably sleeping like the rest of the others or gone on some nighttime raid. She would be joining them soon after a bath. She wondered if her surviving Goldenglow pleased him or disappointed him...

"Have any trouble, lass?" Brynjolf's question brought her back to focus.

"No; no one saw me, as far as I know."

He shook his head in disbelief, but was grinning. "You're a shadow; here's your pay." He handed her a hefty coin purse. Brynjolf pointed at the tunnel behind him. "Baths are in there; you smell like smoke, lass."

"Just smoke?" she asked sarcastically as she headed past him.

"It's the only smell I care to comment on."

She chuckled as she disappeared down the tunnel, looking forward to a warm bath and eliminating all odors.

***

Weeks passed with Macayla running with the Thieves Guild. She went on a variety of jobs with everyone except Thrynn—who preferred to work alone—and Mercer. Next to being paired with Brynjolf or Rune on a job, she enjoyed being with Delvin the best. He was quite the character, always keeping Macayla on her toes with him purposely running into a guard's line of sight to get him to sound the alarm and chase them, intentionally making noise in a house they were to rob and awake the sleeping occupants, or yelling 'Thief!' as she came out of a closed business and hiding, leaving her to run and hide from the guards. When she finally met back up with him after her ordeal, he would be cackling, but his respect for her grew with every assessment.

Along with doing the extra jobs for Vex and Delvin by stealing a specific item, planting a stolen object in a mark's house to frame them, forging numbers in a business' ledger, or just sweeping a large amount of loot from a city, Macayla was bringing in a lot of gold for the Guild.

Her influence wasn't just being felt in Riften, but the entire province of Skyrim. Every major city increased guards to cut down on the burglaries, but weren't successful. Townspeople began to grow more anxious, paranoid about their neighbors and fearing that their home or business would be hit next. Vex said it should be like this.

But the Thieves Guild wasn't the only one to enjoy the spoils. The city of Riften did too in a strange way of pride. Merchants were more cautious than ever, but the people were proud that they hosted and hid the successful Thieves Guild. They had been ashamed of their corrupt city falling into ruins; now their spirits had been uplifted and the city itself looked to have perked up, too. Riften was back on the map and wasn't to be ignored anymore.

Macayla was returning from a job with Vipir the Fleet when he suggested checking out a Dwemer ruin; he had scouted it out before but couldn't return with all the loot, so he wanted to get what he had left behind. He led her through the long abandoned and crumbling dwarven ruin straight to the treasure room. In there were golden chests he had relocked with harder combinations to prevent adventurers from taking his loot.

She watched him re-break into the chests to happily find all the loot still there. He shared half of it with her, handing her the lighter pieces like gold, jewels and jewelry, while he piled on the pieces of armor and weapons to lug back. As they were getting ready to go, Macayla caught sight of a blueish-gray urn with gold accentuating it. It resembled the one Bersi Honey-Hand had that Macayla broke to extort from him.

She grabbed it—he probably wouldn't ever forgive her, but it might show him that she could be cordial. It was worth a try.

Once they returned to Riften, she told Vipir to head on down to the Cistern as she headed for The Pawned Prawn. Being dark, the shop was closed with Bersi and his wife living beneath it. Macayla broke in and saw that he had removed the broken pieces of the old urn. She placed the new one on the counter so he couldn't miss it, then snuck back out. The next day, when she visited the marketplace, Bersi approached her.

"I hope you didn't steal it from anyone, but thanks."

***

She was talking with Tonilia down in the Flagon about some of the gear she sold to the fence when Vekel suddenly screamed. Macayla whipped around to see the tavern owner running toward the storage room cursing and screaming the whole way, brandishing his broom like a club. A frantic skeever saw him coming and turned back for the door to the Ratway Vaults left open before it could be hit.

Delvin Mallory fought to hold in laughter as he jumped to his feet. "Gotta run; there's a job in Solitude. Bein' a thief isn't a borin' job, you know." With a quick last swig of his tankard, he scurried for the exit to the Ratway far behind them.

"DELVIN!" Vekel roared as he marched out of the storage room; he looked ready to impale the thief with the broom in his hand.

"He's already left, Vekel," Dirge said from his bouncer position at the entrance of The Ragged Flagon.

He huffed out angrily, mumbling about the ridiculous jokes, as he headed back to his bar.

Macayla looked at Tonilia for an explanation.

"Vekel can't stand skeevers and Delvin lures them in with cheese and an open door."

She chuckled at the image of Vekel running into battle with a skeever with the broom over his head. "Is that his choice of weaponry?"

"Usually."

She looked back to see the tavern owner fiercely scrubbing out a spot on his bar top. "If I was a skeever, I'd be scared too."

Vekel glared at her as the women laughed.