Delvin had explained the latest job over a drink in the Flagon a couple of days ago. They had established a foothold in most of the major holds, but Eastmarch was proving tricky. Did she remember anyone who might prove helpful?
“Well… it’s a long shot, but there might be someone.”
“Go on then,” replied Delvin. “Can’t be worse that the big fat nothing we’ve turned up so far.”
“Gallus and I used to work with a fence called Niranye. When we were in touch, she was based in Falkreath, but I heard she recently moved up to Windhelm.” Karliah drummed her fingers on the old, stained wooden table. “Although she might have moved on again. I’ve only been to Windhelm a handful of times, but even so…”
Delvin nodded in understanding. “Yeah, none too good to your lot, are they? But there’s a chance she might be around?”
“Yes. And I might be able to convince her to fence for us again, although I warn you, she used to skim enough off top to make Tonilia look like a monk with a vow of poverty.”
The Breton let out a laugh that caught the attention of everyone in the Flagon, not least the fence concerned. It was more that the joke came from her than the joke itself; everyone seemed to be surprised when her humour peeked through her usually stern front.
“Sounds like a plan, then.” Delvin took a swig of mead and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “When can you go?”
Karliah shrugged; she had little in the way of commitments. “As soon as you want me to. Just give me a day or two to prepare for the trip.”
So it was settled; a trip to Windhelm. Not her favourite destination in Skyrim by far but if it would help the Guild then she could certainly stomach it. Besides, with luck, she wouldn’t be seen by anyone who would object to her presence.
Today was the day to leave. A trip to Riften’s markets yesterday had allowed her to stock up on supplies for the journey and the cart to Windhelm would leave at seven hours. While little to no natural light penetrated Nightingale Hall, Karliah had refined her internal clock over the years and judged it to be a little past dawn; about two hours before the cart would leave.
She packed quickly, muttering her plans for Windhelm to herself to keep from thinking about other flights, other journeys. One last check of her supplies, one last quick prayer to Nocturnal, and she slipped out of Nightingale Hall dressed like a simple merchant. Being out of her armour, with all her weapons but a dagger in her pack, did nothing to help calm Karliah's nerves but it would make the cart journey much easier with far fewer questions.
Which only meant, of course, that today would be the day it all went wrong.
Dark Wings In The Cold 1b
“Well… it’s a long shot, but there might be someone.”
“Go on then,” replied Delvin. “Can’t be worse that the big fat nothing we’ve turned up so far.”
“Gallus and I used to work with a fence called Niranye. When we were in touch, she was based in Falkreath, but I heard she recently moved up to Windhelm.” Karliah drummed her fingers on the old, stained wooden table. “Although she might have moved on again. I’ve only been to Windhelm a handful of times, but even so…”
Delvin nodded in understanding. “Yeah, none too good to your lot, are they? But there’s a chance she might be around?”
“Yes. And I might be able to convince her to fence for us again, although I warn you, she used to skim enough off top to make Tonilia look like a monk with a vow of poverty.”
The Breton let out a laugh that caught the attention of everyone in the Flagon, not least the fence concerned. It was more that the joke came from her than the joke itself; everyone seemed to be surprised when her humour peeked through her usually stern front.
“Sounds like a plan, then.” Delvin took a swig of mead and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “When can you go?”
Karliah shrugged; she had little in the way of commitments. “As soon as you want me to. Just give me a day or two to prepare for the trip.”
So it was settled; a trip to Windhelm. Not her favourite destination in Skyrim by far but if it would help the Guild then she could certainly stomach it. Besides, with luck, she wouldn’t be seen by anyone who would object to her presence.
Today was the day to leave. A trip to Riften’s markets yesterday had allowed her to stock up on supplies for the journey and the cart to Windhelm would leave at seven hours. While little to no natural light penetrated Nightingale Hall, Karliah had refined her internal clock over the years and judged it to be a little past dawn; about two hours before the cart would leave.
She packed quickly, muttering her plans for Windhelm to herself to keep from thinking about other flights, other journeys. One last check of her supplies, one last quick prayer to Nocturnal, and she slipped out of Nightingale Hall dressed like a simple merchant. Being out of her armour, with all her weapons but a dagger in her pack, did nothing to help calm Karliah's nerves but it would make the cart journey much easier with far fewer questions.
Which only meant, of course, that today would be the day it all went wrong.