Walk in the Shadows

Twenty-Six

Sitting at a small table in the Flagon, I turned the Skeleton Key in my hands, observing its details closely. As far as I could tell, it was almost normal. It looked to be nothing more than a long key with a painted knob on the end. It didn't radiate malice or power or greed or whatever Daedric artifacts were supposed to radiate. In a way, it was elegant, beautiful, and dark. Much like a thief is supposed to be. But I couldn't see how something so... ordinary was supposed to unlock untapped potential in anyone who holds it.

"You know, that Key is never going to change, no matter how many times you turn it in your hands," said a certain handsome redhead as he sat down across from me.

"I know that." I put the Key down and turned my attention to Bryn. "It just looks so... normal. I keep expecting it to grow fangs and bite me or something."

"Don't tempt it, lass." He smiled a little. "When are you planning on returning it?"

"Soon. I've been stuck down here with nothing to do for three weeks. I've rested and recovered, and I'm ready to get back out there."

"Well, the three weeks you've been here haven't been wasted on the rest of the Guild. Morale is up, coin is flowing in like a river of gold, and our presence in the Holds is growing stronger every day." He reached into one of his many pockets across his chest. "Which reminds me. Delvin said that he was contacted by Olfrid Battle-Born in Whiterun. Battle-Born wants the Guild's help in a—shall we say—sensitive matter. He requested the best we have. Figured that meant you." He handed me the piece of paper he had pulled from his pocket. "Here are the details."

I unfolded the paper, frowning as I read over the words. "Well, I suppose I could take this job, then return the Key. Whiterun is a good, central location."

"Just be careful out there. Remember what happened to Vipir?"

I laughed. Vipir's job in Whiterun could not have ended any worse than it did. He managed to filch the urn from Jorrvaskr without a problem, but he got greedy when he passed the jewelry stand in the market. He hadn't realized that the stand was owned by a woman who was very good friends with the Companions, and he hadn't realized that two of the Companions were watching the stand for her while she took some lunch to her husband. Vipir once again had to live up to his name, "the Fleet," and make a break for Riften. He had barely escaped with the urn, and he didn't get paid because he had been caught.

"But I just proved that I know how to make quick getaways," he had said in an effort to preserve what little dignity he had left.

"Anyway, I figure I will wear my Nightingale armor to Whiterun," I said once my laughing fit ended. "It will probably help when it's time to return the Key, anyway, and this will save me from carting around an extra set of armor."

"All the same, be careful." He stood up, looking down at me. "Best get going if you want to meet with Olfrid. Time's of the essence with this job."

I nodded and stood as well. "Got it. I'll get there as soon as possible."

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Having been to Whiterun once before, I had no trouble meeting up with this Olfrid Battle-Born. The paper Bryn had handed me said I would need to go to the Bannered Mare, where the client was supposed to flag me down. I hoped he would be able to tell I was with the Thieves Guild, since I was wearing my Nightingale armor.

The moment I set foot in the merry inn, an older man in fine clothes motioned for me to join him in the back of the room. He was Olfrid, no doubt. I took my seat across from him and lowered my cowl. His eyes widened in surprise, his gaze wandering all over my face.