Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Welcome to Riften, home of the Black-Briar Meadery,” the driver said, his voice monotone, as the carriage jerked to a halt, wheels settling into the well-worn grooves near the stables. “Hope you enjoy your stay.”

Eira delicately stepped out, avoiding the muddy puddles. A faint, misty rain was still falling overhead, but the sun peeked out over the lake, making the water sparkle and gleam, pretty as gold. A lot like the waves at home, she thought, smiling as she adjusted her cloak and hood. Of course, the lake was certainly much tamer than the sea — but she had always lived near water, and these waters glimmered with promise.

“Hold up,” a guard ordered, stepping out to block her way forward as she reached the main gates to the city. "New arrivals have to pay the, ah, visitor's tax.” She slowly tilted her head up to meet his gaze. His arms were crossed, his fingers nervously shifting against each other as he waited for her to reply. Must be new at this, she thought.

“How much?” she asked, still smiling.

“Twenty silvers,” he replied. Eira frowned a little, about to protest that fee, but he cut in again before she could speak up. “If you don’t have that much now, I can go as low as ten — but you’ll still owe the Jarl the other ten, plus interest.”

Eira couldn't hold back a little smirk. “Oh? Which Jarl are we talking about, again? Jarl Law-Giver? Or the Jarl that lives under the city?”

“Pardon?” he asked, clearly startled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not stupid. This is obviously a shake-down, I know how these things work. I’ll even give credit where credit is due — it’s a decent set up. I assume the carriage driver is in on it, too?” Eira asked, gesturing toward the stables, where the carriage now sat empty. The commentary about her arrival must have been a clue-in that she was someone they could try to fleece.

“Keep it down, will you?” the guard hissed, quickly glancing over his shoulder, to the other occupied post. Another guard stood just out of earshot, but she was definitely starting to get curious about the hold-up. The guard gave Eira one last once over, then moved aside to let her through. “Not worth the trouble,” he muttered, returning to his post to sulk.

Beyond the gate, the city awaited her. Spindly wooden walkways arched over canals below, where little boats drifted. Long lines draped from the posts and railing, laden with banners and laundry in a myriad of colors. The buildings that lined the narrow streets were practically made to be climbed, with so many uneven pieces jutting out and in. Eira couldn’t help but trace out all the pathways she could easily scale to reach the rooftops. The city would probably look even prettier, viewed from up there...

“Hey. You better not be lookin’ for trouble.” The deep, quiet voice snapped her out of that train of thought. Eira half-expected to find another guard watching her when she turned, but the man who was leaning up against some railing wasn’t wearing a uniform or helmet. He did, however, have a golden pin holding his cloak around his shoulders: a rose, circled in briars, with a blood-red garnet in the center.

“Would it matter if I was?” Eira asked, crossing her arms. He was a very large man, even for a nord — but she wasn’t intimidated by his size, despite being rather small herself.

His expression didn’t change as he watched her, though. His frown stayed right where it was, and his eyebrows didn’t even twitch a little. “As a matter of fact, it would. The last thing Maven Black-Briar needs is some troublemaker trying to steal a piece of the action.”

He shifted a little and placed a hand on his hip, deliberately drawing attention to the fine piece of steel he wore there. Eira, however, kept her eyes on his face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better,” he said. “I watch the streets for her. The whole family is protected by the Thieves Guild, too, so don’t get any ideas. Just stay out of their business.”

She tilted her head. “The Guild, you say? Do you have any dirt on them? Asking because I’m not exactly clean myself, so...”

The man did give a solitary chuckle at that, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Figured you were their type. Brynjolf’s the man to talk to, if you want a piece of that. He’s probably at his stall in the marketplace right now. No idea what kind of elixir he’s selling today, but you’ll know him when you see him — he’s got red hair and a scar on his left cheek.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Eira let a coin slip from one of her hidden pockets into her hand, deftly flipping it to him. He caught it easily and inspected it, a smile crossing his face.

“Sure. Be seeing you around, I guess.”

Eira watched him wander off and turn down a nice looking side-street. All the fancy balconies and well-kept gardens immediately set those houses apart from the others she’d been looking at before — that part of town obviously belonged to the town’s elite.

She kept to the main walkway for now, though. It followed the waterway and was lined with shops, apartments, and a cozy looking tavern: the Bee and the Barb. The pathways all converged at the large, central marketplace. All sorts of vendors were hard at work, there, calling out to attract the attention of passers-by.

“Beautiful baubles and gleaming gemstones! Get them here! Perfect presents, for your special someone!”

“Rare oddities, straight from Morrowind! Fair prices, fine quality!”

“Fresh meat, free of rock-joint! GUARANTEED!”

Eira meandered around, allowing the flow of the crowd to guide her through the plaza. Each stall had a different sort of charm, carefully laid out to appeal to prospective customers. The jeweler was smart, however, and only had a few pieces on display — all in locked glass boxes, kept well away from grabby hands. The craftsmanship was obviously exquisite, though, and the argonian running the stand smiled when he saw her looking.

“Ah, you have fine taste. The sapphires in that necklace would really bring out your eyes.”

“I’m not actually shopping today,” Eira said, tucking a lock of her silver hair behind her ear as she grinned at him. “I just made a long trip, so I’m a little short on funds. I doubt I could afford such a high quality piece.”

“Understandable,” he said. “If you are seriously interested, though, I can accept payments in multiple installments. A small down payment is all I need to hold on to something.”

Eira laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “Oh, I’m tempted, but I have to put my coin to other use right now. Sorry. Perhaps another time?”

He nodded, glancing to another well-dressed woman who had wandered up behind her. “Safe travels, then, land-strider. Hello, milady! Might I interest you in some fine jewelry?”

The next stall over from his, tucked away in a corner near the railing, was the one she’d been searching for. The bottles on display were haphazardly arranged, with charming handwritten labels. Eira arched an eyebrow at the red-haired man behind the counter as she pointed out the first one she’d seen. “Falmer Blood Elixir? That sounds rather nasty.”

“Oh, it is nasty,” he assured her, chuckling. “But the taste isn’t what matters, it’s the special properties — but I know I don’t need to make my whole spiel to you. You’re running a little light in the pockets, aren’t you? At least, that’s what I heard.”

“For now. I’m hoping my fortunes might change soon. You’re Brynjolf, right?”

“Aye,” he said. She saw his eyes flick over her once,quickly sizing her up. “Wealth is my business, and I can cut you in. But you’ll need to do a favor for me first. I’ve got an errand I have to run today, but I could use another pair of hands. You willing to help me?”

“Ready and eager,” Eira said. “Just tell me what to do.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Brynjolf mused, flashing a grin at her. Then he grabbed one of the posts and delicately leaned in closer to her, speaking softly enough that only she could hear him. “So, I’ll create a distraction while you sneak in and swipe a ring from Madesi’s stand — he’s the jeweler you were just talking to. You’ll also need to plant it on Brand-Shei, the exotic goods seller, without getting caught…”

One quick-scheme later, Eira leaned against some railing and frowned as she watched two city guards drag the protesting dunmer away. “This is unfair! I’m innocent! I didn’t steal anything!”

Brynjolf, however, had a spring in his step when he joined her, clapping one hand on the railing as he tugged a small bag of coins out of his pocket with the other. “Ha! That went well! Here’s your part of the payment, just as promised. There’s a lot more where that came from, if you think you can handle it.”

“You seem remarkably pleased,” Eira sighed, taking the little pouch from him. The rain had let up, but her mood had soured. Brynjolf seemed to take notice of that, his own smile diminishing. “What did that man do, anyway? Make what’s-her-face cross with him?”

Brynjolf groaned a little, rubbing his neck. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that, lass, but you’ll want to be careful how you talk about Maven. She can do a lot worse than send you to the brig for a few days.” He glanced back to Eira and flashed another practiced smile. “Anyway... You did the job, and you did it well. That’s all that matters to me. If you want to join the group I represent, come find us at the Ragged Flagon, in the Ratways.”

As he went back to his stall, she returned to her exploration of the city. She spent some of her fresh-earned coin on food at another vendor, and then wandered down to the lower level of the city. The streets were damper and danker there, a cool retreat from the midday sun.

The bustle of voices carried from the plaza, but they grew more distant as she followed the catwalks around, looking for an entrance to the Ratways. Anvil had waterways that sprawled out beneath the city, too — a maze every thief and smuggler worth their salt learned to navigate.

Eira found a door on the south side, near the docks. It was locked, but she was quick with her fingers. Within a few seconds, she’d pulled a pick from her sleeve, tumbled the lock open, and slipped through the door. She clicked the lock shut before she moved on, leaving no evidence behind that she’d passed this way at all.

She tugged her scarf up over her face as she made her way down, into the Ratway. The stale, stagnant stench was a bit overwhelming, especially compared to the crisp air outside, which was kept fresh by the winds that came off the lake.

As it turned out, though, one waterway wasn’t so different from another, and a few more picked locks and one altercation with an angry rogue alchemist were all it took for her to traverse their perilous depths and stumble into the secluded tavern.

The Flagon, thankfully, smelled better than the Ratways that surrounded it. Fresh air leaked in from a skylight, above, which Eira recognized as part of the centerpiece in the market plaza. No voices trickled in, however — the only sounds in the room were the gentle waters trickling through the clear pool and the quiet mutter of voices coming from the bar.

Must be some kind of enchantment, she realized. If either of her brothers had been here, they would have been able to dissect that spellery in ways she could not.

A large man with a striking resemblance to the one she’d met on the streets earlier still stood between her and the tavern, however. He had the same menacing glare, but his hair was a lighter color. “Hey! Vekel doesn’t like strangers snooping around the Flagon. Get lost.”

“I’d rather not be a stranger,” Eira mused, flicking her hood back as she grinned up at him. “Brynjolf told me to come here. I want to join this operation.”

“Of course you do,” the man sighed, rolling his eyes as he waved her on. “Good luck with that.”

She frowned a little, making her way into the actual tavern. There were only a handful of people mulling about — a woman going through supplies, a man sweeping up a mess in the corner, and a few people playing cards around a small table.

“She said she barely had enough coin to cover me! Told me to come back later! Can you imagine?” The youngest man sounded exasperated.

“This place keeps getting worse and worse,” the elf sitting beside him agreed, frowning as he tossed a coin into the pile. “I still have a couple contacts in Valenwood, Vipir. They might have some work for us.”

“If things don’t get better soon, I might take you up on that.”

Eira frowned as she took a seat at the bar, not wanting to intrude on the game or their conversation. The man who had been sweeping set the broom aside to mind the bar.

“So, Brynjolf sent you? It’s been a long time since anyone actually joined us.” He glanced to the occupied table, frowning as he cleaned out a mug. “I'm Vekel, the man in charge of this establishment. Dirge over there helps me keep the rabble in line, and Delvin hands out most of the work."

“Not that there’s much of it these days, eh? I fold." Delvin said, leaving the card table to join Eira at the bar. “Let me guess, he just plucked you off the street and shoved you into the thick of things without telling you which way is up. Am I right?”

Eira shrugged, sliding a couple coins over as Vekel passed her a drink. “Sort of. I mean, I don’t know exactly how things work around here, but I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do. You and every other thief that makes it through those doors.” He frowned. “If you want to prove yourself to the boss, you’ll have to run a few more jobs first. And you’re in luck! I just got a few in that could help show you the ropes.”

“I’m listening,” she said, taking a sip from her drink.

As night fell, Eira finally found a chance to climb up and wander along the rooftops. The afternoon had been tedious. She could handle debt collection, of course, but the people here… they were really, truly desperate.

It didn’t make sense. In Cyrodiil, the Guild protected the needy. They kept careful records and were always mindful of each person’s standing.

Money can’t appear from thin air, Eira thought, perching atop the Temple of Mara to watch the moons rise over the lake. Heists should be aimed at those who have plenty to spare — not poor stable workers.

That was another mess she’d had to sweep up, when she’d overheard a fellow thief threatening a man over gold he couldn’t pay back because the Guild had stolen his supplies. Eira had just given that man enough to clear his debt, and he’d been ready to kiss the ground in front of her.

“I didn’t think anyone in Riften would care about what happened to me. Thank you. I won’t forget your kindness.”

She only appreciated the view for a few minutes before she slowly crept down the eaves of the roof and dropped to the balcony below with a soft thud. The doors were still open, though an acolyte was starting the process of closing up.

“No need to linger in the doorway,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “You can come in, if you want to offer up a prayer. Mara’s heart is always open, and these doors are never locked.”

“Don’t you worry about thieves?” Eira asked, curious.

The acolyte chuckled, shaking his head. “Our donation boxes are quite secure.”

As he resumed his duties, Eira wandered up to the most prominent shrine of the benevolent goddess, her hands outstretched to offer aid and guidance. The donations box in front of her was built into the floor, unable to be lifted. The coins probably fell all the way down, into the basement, where only the priests and acolytes could venture to collect...

Forgive me, Eira thought, bowing her head. It was unwise to risk the anger of a Divine, after all, and her thoughts had gotten away from her. She liked to scheme and mull over ways to breach difficult locks, but she wasn’t keen on stealing from a temple.

After a few more moments, she pulled one silver coin out of a pocket and dropped it in, smiling as she heard it tumble down a chute. “Mara’s blessings be upon you,” the acolyte muttered, habitually, as Eira turned to leave.

It took even less time for her to traverse the Ratways than before, now that she knew exactly where the right turn off was. The Flagon was a bit more lively at this hour, too, with more people drinking and chatting — including Brynjolf, who was leaning on the bar to talk to Vekel.

“I have a good feeling about this one. I’m telling you, she’s different.”

“We’ve all heard that one before,” the bouncer scoffed, shaking his head. “Give it up, Bryn. You’re kidding yourself.”

“You need to face the truth, old friend,” the bartender agreed. “You, Vex, Mercer… you’re part of a dying breed. Things are changing.”

“Aye! For the better! Just give this one a chance, Vekel.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about me, would you?” Eira asked, smirking.

When Brynjolf turned to face her, there was a mild look of surprise on his face. “Didn’t hear you come in, lass! Color me impressed. I take it you’ve finished tidying up for Delvin?”

She tugged a bag out of her own pack and set it on the bar next to him, the coins within making a satisfying clink as they hit the counter. “All past dues are settled. The payments won’t be late again.”

Brynjolf grinned as he opened up the pouch and counted out the coins, shooting Vekel a glance. “See? Larceny’s in her blood — she’s got all the bearings of a practiced thief.” He separated out a few coins and set them in front of her with a little wink. “I’m sure you’ll do more than simply ‘fit in’ around here.”

He downed the rest of his ale, setting the mug down with a solid thunk, and slid off the stool with a little twirl that made his coat-tails flutter as they followed him. “Come on, lass. It’s time for you to meet Mercer.”

Chapter Text

“This better not be another waste of the Guild’s resources,” Mercer sighed, his hard gaze lingering on Eira for a while. It was uncomfortably discerning, that look, but Eira didn’t fidget or turn away. “Alright, Brynjolf. Make sure she understands how things work around here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important business to get back to.”

He flicked his eyes dismissively, then returned his attention to the papers on his desk. Brynjolf guided Eira back out to the center of guild’s main room — a cistern even larger than the one Vekel’s tavern was housed in. There were several halls branching out from it, which Brynjolf quickly explained led to personal quarters, training areas, and other amenities.

“There’s plenty of places to stash away your personal loot. We have a system and rules you’ll want to learn, but to keep things simple: what’s yours is yours. We may be thieves, but we still have a code of honor! So heed that, lass. Stealing from other guild members is a one-way ticket out of our good graces.”

He chuckled and winked at her, then clapped her shoulder and gestured to the rest of the room. “Feel free to explore and get to know everyone! The people you’ll meet here are some of the best thieves I’ve ever known.”

Eira heard a soft scoff from a nearby table, and turned to see a few thieves sipping drinks while they played cards again. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” the elf asked, turning around to face Eira and Brynjolf. “The truth is, most of us are stuck here because we owe too many debts to leave.”

Brynjolf crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow as he frowned in disapproval. “Says the man who spends a good portion of his weekly cut on games of chance.”

“Niruin has a point, though,” the other man — Vipir? — sighed. “Our luck’s been dry of late. She has a right to know what she’s getting into before you throw her to the wolves.”

“Don’t worry,” Eira said, grinning as she gave a little bow. “I may be new here, but I’m no babe in the woods. I’ll have you back in black before you know it.”

"I’ve heard that one before…" Niruin quipped, tipping his mug back to inspect the dregs in the bottom with disdain. “You shouldn’t make any promises before you’ve gotten a real taste of the work we do here.”

Sapphire leaned back to cast her a steely glare. “Yeah. Debts don’t usually just disappear. ”

Eira frowned, narrowing her own eyes slightly. Salty about how I stepped in to help that stablehand, are you? Well, that just isn’t fair. “Hey, you can’t reap a bounty when there’s a drought on,” she said, shrugging. “Sometimes the first step is fetching water.”

“Ha! Good luck with that,” Sapphire said, shaking her head. “It won’t be long before you run out.”

Brynjolf coughed, getting Eira’s attention. With a nod of his head, he urged her to follow him through one of the hallways. Once they were out of the cistern, he sighed quietly. "It’s true that we’ve had a bit of a rough patch of late, but… Don’t mind them, lass. I think you’ve got all the trappings of a professional thief. I mean, you even sniffed out my little scheme at the gate!”

“Oh, that was your doing?” she asked.

"Aye, it was. But the man I hired broke one of the cardinal rules of our trade... he got too greedy. I told him to run that scam on merchants, but he smelled gold on you and his judgment went right out the window."

“Wait, you only hired one man?” Eira asked, curious. “I thought the carriage driver was your clue-in.”

“No, he wasn’t.” Brynjolf said, raising both of his eyebrows in surprise. “See, lass? That’s exactly what I’m talking about! I like the way you think. That would be a real tight operation! We don’t have the means to influence that many people right now, but if you keep up the good work…”

“We might be able to grease more wheels?” She offered, her eyes twinkling.

Brynjolf laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. “Haha! I’ll have to remember that one! But you’ve got the general idea.” He paused to open a door, then tossed Eira a key. “Here. It’s not much, but it’s yours to do what you will with.”

The tiny alcove was more like a cell than a room, really, barely big enough for the bedding and chest it contained. But it didn’t smell damp, at least, which was something. Brynjolf could probably see the disappointment on her face, though, because he cut in again quickly.

“You’ll get nicer quarters if you stick around a while, lass. I can promise you that much.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Since you’re new to town, I’ll cut you a little slack. Take a few days to get settled in. Learn the lay of the land, memorize our shadowmarks, figure out the guard patrols. After you’ve done a few more jobs for us, we can start talking bigger schemes… and bigger cuts of the profit. How’s that sound?”

Eira smiled, feeling giddy from all the ideas that were tumbling through her mind. There were so many new things to explore, here, and she was eager to prove herself to the rest of the Guild… especially the ones that seemed sure no-one could turn things around.

“Sounds wonderful,” Eira said, giving Brynjolf a playful bow. “You can count on me.”

She spent the next few hours exploring the sprawling maze beneath the city. In Anvil, the waterways had been one of her favorite places. Dark, cool, perfect for stashing away treasures. The Ratways were dirtier and more disorganized — it was obvious that they had been expanded on at least three times, and one large section had obviously been hastily built to repair something that got destroyed.

The guild had set up their headquarters in the oldest, nicest part of the undercity. In the new section, closer to the docks, the rotten stench was almost unbearable. Does no one take care of this place? Eira wondered.

When she felt a flow of air, she followed it to the exit it promised — a partially boarded up tunnel just shy of Riften’s south gate. Eira lowered her scarf and took a deep breath, sighing in relief. It was easy enough for her to climb up and hop onto the docks from there, and if anyone noticed where she’d come from they had enough sense to ignore her and mind their own business.

Sense, Eira thought, or fear. It sounded like Maven was a cold-blooded ruler with little love for the people who did her dirty work. Or any work, for that matter.

“Please. I need your help. I’m going to lose my job.”

Eira’s ears perked up at the hoarse, desperate sound of the argonian woman’s voice — and glanced over in time to see the bosmer she was talking to set down a large fish barrel with a sigh. “Wujeeta, you really need to stop using that skooma. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you, but… I can’t bail you out again.”

“I can’t stop, Valindor. It won’t let me go.”

Valindor shook his head, walking back towards the boat he was unloading. “Whoever’s selling that shit should be brought to justice. It’s evil.”

The argonian scoffed, slumping against the wall of the fishery. “Maybe I should just crawl in a hole and…” she trailed off as she caught Eira staring. She slumped a little more, looking away — obviously embarrassed by her predicament. “Oh, what am I going to do?”

“What’s going on?” Eira asked, cautiously moving a little closer. “Can I help you?”

The woman sobbed once, quietly, and nodded. She still didn’t meet Eira’s eyes. “The owner of this fishery, Bolli, told me if I showed up for work like this one more time… I’d be out! He doesn’t understand. I don’t want to do this to myself — I just can’t stop.”

Eira frowned as she reached into her satchel. She still had some potions left over from her trip, including a few that had been specially distilled by her eldest brother. “Here,” she said, holding one out to Wujeeta. “This is much more potent than a typical healing potion. It should clean you out, though the process… won’t be pleasant.”

“I have nothing to give you in return for your kindness,” she said, still hesitating. Eira held her gaze, gently pressing the vial into her hands. Her fingers closed around it, finally, her eyes lighting up with a fierce, desperate hope.

“Thank you,” she said. “A thousand times over. I will not forget this.”

She darted off as Valindor came down the plank again, setting another fish barrel beside Eira. “Will that potion really cure her?”

“Not all on its own,” Eira sighed. “It will clear the poison out of her system, but she’ll still have the cravings for more of it. And there’s no way she’ll be able to work until it’s run its course.”

Valindor rubbed his neck, then nodded. “Alright, that’s good to know. I can probably keep Bolli from noticing she isn’t here today. He’s not heartless, either. If she’s serious about getting off the stuff… I’m sure he’ll be willing to bend a little.”

A plank creaked nearby, and Valindor frowned as he glanced over his shoulder. Clapping his hands together to dust them off, he made his way back across the plank to the fishing boat. “It was nice talking with you, miss, but — alas, my work is never done!”

As she slipped around the corner of the fishery, Eira was surprised to see Maul leaning against a wall nearby, beside the door to another warehouse. His eyes were locked on her, so she flashed him a little smile and stood up straight as she approached him.

He just raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re very kind, miss. I hope it doesn’t go to waste.”

“Eavesdropping again, Maul?” Eira asked, shaking her head. “That’s a bit rude.”

“Hardly needed to,” he huffed. “Sound carries all around the docks. Besides, it’s my job to look out for messes that need to be contained.”

“Then you should be glad I helped her,” Eira said, crossing her arms. “Or was she beneath your jurisdiction?”

Maul grunted and glanced out over the lake. When he spoke up again, his voice was surprisingly gentle. “Soft hearts bleed out in places like this, that’s all I’m saying. Now scram, before I get in trouble for talking to you instead of minding my post.”

Eira frowned, but did as he asked. 

As she meandered along the docks, she mentally pieced together more of the city’s layout. Bolli’s fishery took up most of the south section of the docks, except for the building Maul was guarding. The northern half, meanwhile, belonged entirely to Maven Black-Briar. 

The air there smelled overwhelmingly sweet, but… something felt stagnant about it, too. All the meadery’s workers were on edge, speaking in hushed tones as they loaded boats with mead-barrels. Eira couldn’t help but notice that one dock was completely devoid of activity. No boats coming in or leaving.

Curious, Eira thought. Something wasn’t right here, but she wasn’t sure she should dally around and find out more. She’d been up all night, and while she didn’t feel tired yet, she didn’t want to test her limits in foreign territory.

It was high time she returned to the guild’s headquarters. When dusk fell, her work could begin anew.

As soon as Eira stepped back into the Flagon, she froze. The air had shifted in the few hours she’d been away. Vekel’s bar sat unattended, and all the chairs were empty. One had even been knocked sideways! Playing cards had been strewn about, thrown down in haste, and several coins lay scattered across the floor. 

That was chilling enough, but as she made her way across the room and through the hidden passage, Eira also smelled the tang of fresh blood.

The atmosphere was tense in the cistern, too. Brynjolf stood near Mercer, talking to him in hushed tones, but as Eira wandered closer she could make out their conversation. “…Vex nearly died, Mercer. We can’t take anymore risks! I’m not sending anyone else to Goldenglow.”

“Oh? Who’s going to tell Maven the bad news, then? I don’t envy the envoy.”

“What’s going on?” Eira asked. “Who — ”

“Ah, perfect!” Mercer said, laughing. “Why don’t we send your newest protege? If she’s half as good as you claim she is, she’ll do just fine.”

This time, Brynjolf didn’t light up when he looked at her. His expression was cold as stone, his eyes sad and weary. “Leave Eira out of this, Mercer. I’ll go talk to Maven myself.”

Everything felt off-kilter, now, like a lock that was jammed up by misalignments. Sometimes, a delicate touch wouldn’t do. “No,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she met Mercer’s ice-cold gaze. “Tell me about Goldenglow. I can handle it.”

Mercer Frey laughed aloud. “Oh, Brynjolf. You’ve done it this time!” When he grinned at her, he looked like a wolf bearing its teeth. “She’s got some real moxie.”