Walk by the Shadows

XIX. Hard Answers

Her eyelids didn't want to open. She still felt bone-tired, and both shoulders throbbed. Her head remained thick and foggy; she couldn't recall what caused her to feel this way.

But the soothing sounds of cascading water and familiar scents had her comfortable. One she recognized as belonging to someone—a man, she believed; a warm masculine scent combining spices, honey, and mead. She could focus in on it better from it being close by her.

She struggled to open her eyes; at first she could only open them to a slit and see through lashes. But she kept forcing them wider, rapidly blinking away the blurriness. She knew the dim lighting and surroundings. The Cistern. The Thieves Guild. She was home.

A blot sat close to her; she blinked more to see who they were. He faced the light behind her, so his features quickly became easy to identify. Brynjolf.

He sat in a chair, leaning toward her with his clasped hands on his legs. His face looked haggard and strained, like he hadn't slept in days. His green eyes watched her.

"Welcome back, lass," he greeted.

"How did I get—" Her memories came rushing back: being shot and paralyzed as she witnessed Karliah and Mercer Frey's illuminations, then him stabbing her. "Mercer!" She shot up in bed.

Brynjolf moved just as quickly to hold her back from rising. "We know, lass. Don't get up." He pushed her back down.

"You know?" She didn't resist lying back down; both shoulders awoke in fire.

He nodded. "Karliah told us; she explained what she knows."

"Karliah's here?" She tried to look around for the female Dunmer. "Did she—"

"Aye; she's the one that brought you back to us."

Macayla turned back to him. "I'm sorry; I should've never joked about dying..."

His eyes turned somber as he replayed some image. "That was too close, lass. Don't say something like that again."

He took a heavy breath to shift the topic. "What do you remember?"

She forced her mind to replay her memories again, not even blocking out the unbelievably painful one of Mercer stabbing her with poison. "The journey through Snow Veil Sanctum—I got Delvin a toy—Karliah shooting me with some poisoned arrow, listening to her and Mercer's exchange, and him stabbing me. Then everything went black."

"We found the Model Ship; even though slightly broken, Niruin repaired it." He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Nothing else?"

"No; not until now." She looked at him. "Is there something I'm supposed to remember?"

Brynjolf sighed—she couldn't tell if it was out of relief or in disappointment. "No; I'm just making sure Karliah's story corresponds."

He kept something from her, especially since he didn't look her in the eye as he said that. But she trusted him that he would tell her when ready.

She fought to keep her eyes open. "So, what are we doing about Mercer?"

His eyes shot to her. "You're not doing anything until you're better."

"I don't feel too bad right now."

He looked at her incredulously. "By the Eight! Lass, you had a foot in Sovngarde a few hours ago! If Cynric caught you getting up right now, he'd have my head! No; you're going to rest a bit longer."

"Brynjolf..." Her body betrayed her exhaustion by her eyelids drooping.

"No, you need to sleep."

He stood and pushed back some of her hair. "Trust me, we're not going to do anything without you. We need you."