"So, the job's done and best of all, it was clean. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive," Brynjolf said when she returned with the 300 gold.
"Like I said, as long as it's not Edvar, you don't have to worry about me sticking a blade in them." Macayla handed him the three coin purses.
He took them, counted out half, and gave the rest back to her. "Payment for another job well done. I think you'll do more than just fit in around here."
She put the coin purse in her pocket. "May I ask you something?"
"What's on your mind?"
"Word is your outfit's not doing so well; sounds like it's more than just bad luck..."
The cheerful mood she had given him faltered some. "We've run into a rough patch lately, but it's nothing to be concerned about. Tell you what: you keep making us coin and I'll worry about everything else. Fair enough?"
She nodded. "Fair enough. Bad luck can't last forever."
"No, it can't. Now follow me; it's time I show you what we're about."
He stood, and she followed him past the bar and Vekel the Man—the tavern owner—sweeping to the niche acting as The Ragged Flagon's storage closet. A floor to ceiling storage cabinet took over the right wall, shelves laden down with plates, tankards, and various cooking supplies filled the left wall, barrels and boxes were crammed into the corners and a door sat at the end. She assumed Brynjolf headed toward the door, but he turned to the storage cabinet. He opened the door to shelves resembling those behind her and pushed some hidden button; the shelves pulled back as the false panel opened up.
Brynjolf stepped through and Macayla followed suit; he pushed the secret door closed. The hidden room they were in was another tunnel ending at another wooden door. This time, Brynjolf headed for the only visible exit. He opened the door and held it open for her.
She stepped through to find another cavernous room like the one The Ragged Flagon sat in. The Cistern also held a conclave ceiling with natural light streaming in through a hole in the ceiling and water pouring out of two grates into connecting pools—two others weren't cascading with water. Small wooden bridges crossed the rivers of water, forming a circle around the smaller stone circle in the center of the water—accessible only by four stone bridges. There were four niches opposite each other; the one directly opposite her dominated by large, steel double doors—it looked like a vault.
About six people milled about: one in target practice with his bow, another sitting on the edge of the stone walkways. She recognized Sapphire talking with another man.
A lean, lone figure stood on the stone circle; Brynjolf headed for them. She could feel their eyes sizing her up as she walked. When she got close enough, she could make out his features: he was a Breton with a boxy face, neck-length dirty blond hair, and eyes that bore right through you. The way he was planted on his feet screamed of his confidence in his experience. This man was years older than Brynjolf, which meant he had to be the Guildmaster.
"Mercer, this is the one I was talking about," Brynjolf began. "This is Macayla."
"This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf." Mercer's voice was deep and impassive, like everything disappointed him.
Mercer Frey turned his eyes back on her and they narrowed. His closed-off appearance—arms crossed, body defensively turned to her, nostrils slightly flaring, and eyes focused on her—never changed. She felt a quick defensiveness but also had a strange feeling of anger toward him. The defensiveness she could understand since he looked at her with doubt, but the anger, she had no clue.
"Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear: you play by the rules and you'll walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share; no debates, no discussions... You do what we say when we say. Do I make myself clear?"
Even though he spoke down to her like a child that didn't know how to act right, he did have a point. "Perfectly."
"Good. Then I think we should put your expertise to the test."
Brynjolf looked at him. "Wait a minute Mercer, you're not talking about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn't get in."
"You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it."
He turned to her. "Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients. However, the owner has decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details." He started to walk off when Brynjolf stopped him.
"Mercer, aren't you forgetting something?"
He looked at Brynjolf in question. "Hmm? Oh, yes." He turned back to her. "Since Brynjolf assures me that you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild." Mercer turned and walked away from them, headed for a desk with empty shelves behind it.
Macayla crossed her arms in irritation. "He doesn't seem to like me much."
"I don't think Mercer likes anyone but himself; welcome to the family, lass."
"So what's with this Goldenglow?"
"Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm; they raise the wretched little things for honey. It's owned by a smart-mouth Wood Elf named Aringoth. We need you to burn three of the estate's hives and clear out the safe in the main house."
"That sounds too simple; what's the catch?"
"The catch is you can't burn the whole place to the ground. That important client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did."
"Makes sense."
"Aye; the last thing we want to be doing is crossing our clients."
"What should I do about Aringoth?"
"Maven would prefer Aringoth remain alive, but if he gets in your way, kill him. I don't want you to risk your life over his."
She repeated what she was to do so she wouldn't forget it. "Anything else you can tell me about it?"
"Goldenglow used to bring in a mountain of gold for the Guild. Then, out of the blue, Aringoth stops sending us our cut. Mercer was... angry, to put it kindly. So we send in Vex and find out he's hired a bunch of mercenaries to guard the place."
That didn't make sense. "Not Riften guards?"
"Aye. Aringoth sent the city guards packing and fortified the entire island. In fact, Vex barely made it out of there alive. You should talk to her about it before you go."
"Oh, that's comforting."
Brynjolf smiled. "Mercer wouldn't be sending you if he didn't think you could handle it, lass. I also have faith that you'll be fine; I've seen you in action."
Macayla thought about it. Brynjolf definitely had faith in her, but Mercer? She wasn't so sure. She felt like he was trying to get rid of her.
"Watch yourself on that island, lass. Those mercenaries don't take prisoners."
***
She did as Brynjolf had suggested: she went back out to The Ragged Flagon to find Vex and to hear what advice she could give. She found the white-haired woman where she had last seen her leaning against the wall. Macayla walked up to her.
"Before we begin, I want to make two things perfectly clear: one, I'm the best infiltrator this rathole of a guild's got, so if you think you're here to replace me, you're dead wrong," she began before Macayla could open her mouth. "And two, you follow my lead and do exactly as I say; no questions, no excuses."
Her immediate resentment surprised her—Would everyone perceive her as a threat? "Why would I want to replace anyone? I'm just here to be around like-minded thieves."
Vex's attitude improved drastically. Macayla guessed she felt she had to stake her claim so others wouldn't see her as a push-over. "Then we understand each other. Now it's time to get your feet wet and I don't want to waste a lot of time talking about anything other than business."
"What sort of business?"
"I'm not going to sugar-coat it for you; we're in a bad way down here."
"Any idea why?"
"Who knows? Old Delvin says it's some kind of curse. I think he's crazy. I say it's just plain old bad luck."
"So, what can we do?"
"You can get out there and start making a name for us again... make them fear us like they used to. And while you're at it, make a little coin on the side.
"So, what do you want to know?"
"I heard you ran into trouble at Goldenglow."
She scoffed. "That Wood Elf... He's a lot smarter than I expected. Can you believe that fletcher more than tripled the guard? Must have been eight of them in there."
"Any tips to get me in there?"
"Well, there's an old sewer tunnel that dumps into the lake on the northwest side of the island. That's how I got in there."
Macayla put it in her memory as she backed off.
"Hey," Vex called, "whenever you're done with this job, come back to me or Delvin; we'll have some extra jobs for you."
"Someone say my name?" a deep and accented voice asked behind her. She turned to find the bald man with soft but kind gray eyes looking up at her. "Pull up a seat," he suggested as he waved at a seat. She did so.
"Lemme guess: Brynjolf plucked you off the streets an' dropped you into the thick of things without tellin' you which way is up. Am I right?"
"Well, not exactly, but I know I could use some advice."
Delvin Mallory grinned. "Now that kind of attitude comes from someone who wants to get rich an' stay alive long enough to enjoy it. I knew I'd like you. So when you want some more coin, I've got plenty of extra jobs to 'elp the Guild back on its feet."
"Back on its feet?"
"Look around you; the Flagon, the Guild, it's all fallin' apart. A few decades ago, this place used to be as busy as the Imperial City. Now you're lucky if you don't trip over a skeever instead."
Macayla glanced around. "I'll admit: this wasn't what I was expecting."
"I know the others think I'm a bit daft for sayin' things like this, but I'm gonna give it to you straight: something out there is pissed-drunk mad at us. We've been cursed."
"What can we do about it?"
"We spit in that curse's face an' turn things around down 'ere; put things back the way they were. That's where you come in; I've got plenty of work that'll 'elp guide us to recovery. All you havta do is ask an' we can both come out of this smellin' like a rose."
She started to get up. "I'll be sure to hit you and Vex up when I get back."
"You're to infiltrate Goldenglow, right?" She nodded. "Then I'd suggest waitin' til tomorrow; you've done a lot already, so go get some rest."
That sounded like agood idea.