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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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Safe 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

3

"And just what were you doing in Markarth?"

Mercer leaned against his desk with his arms crossed, unimpressed by their proposal.

Sapphire shrugged. "I went to visit a friend."

"Uh-huh." Mercer cast a reproachful glance at Brynjolf. "We don't do jailbreaks anymore."

"We're not talking about a jailbreak. We're talking about carting off more silver in one job than we see in a year. If we rescue the lass at the same time, all the better for us."

"We're thieves, Brynjolf, not miners."

"Markarth been mining silver for centuries," Brynjolf countered. "The prisoners have to put the ore somewhere. And then the ore gets smelted, and they have to put the ingots somewhere."

"Somewhere," Mercer repeated dully. "If all you've got are hypothetical-"

"They keep it in the Treasury House," Sapphire interjected easily. "There's a stockpile locked behind the front counter. I've seen it. It won't be the easiest of locks to pick, but it can be done."

Mercer nodded slowly. "And where does the mine come in?"

"There's only one way out of Cidhna Mine," Sapphire continued. "Through the front gate. They pile the mined ore on trolleys for a week, and then they bring it out through the entrance."

"Which Silver-Blood keeps guarded like his life depends on it. The shift changes often and unpredictably. How do you propose getting around his sentries?"

Brynjolf smirked. "We let our man get caught. Bury him and the lass under the ore piles on the carts, the Silver-Bloods do our work for us."

Mercer scoffed. "You don't think they'll inspect the shipment?"

Sapphire shook her head. "There's a saying in Markarth - 'no one escapes Cidhna Mine.' The Silver-Bloods believe that more than anyone else. They've gotten cocky. Which means they've gotten lazy. No one checks those carts anymore."

"Where do the carts go after they're brought out?"

"There's a smelter in Riverside, does all the smelting for the mine. They won't get to it right away. Our people wait until dark, slip out, and take the payload with them."

Mercer's eyes darted between her and Brynjolf, trying to read their faces. Finally he waved his hand dismissively. "I'll consider it."

When he said no more, Brynjolf and Sapphire took their leave of the Guildmaster, walking toward the training room.

"Was any of that true, lass?" Brynjolf asked in hushed tones after they were out of earshot.

Sapphire shrugged, smirking. "Half of it. Maybe." She sighed and leaned against the wall. "So, how do you actually plan to get her out?"

Brynjolf shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm still working on it, lass."

"Yeah? Well, work faster. Once Mercer decides we can go through with it, he'll want it done as soon as possible."

The brunette sauntered away toward her usual spot near the secret exit out of the Cistern while Brynjolf continued to the training room. He was relieved to find the room empty when he arrived. He didn't need any of the other Guild members intruding on his thoughts.

He wondered if the scheme they sold to Mercer might work. They had made up most of what they told him, and everything the Guildmaster demanded to know were factors they had to account for. Unfortunately, their contacts in Markarth were few and far between these days, and having them suss out the necessary information would take time Brynjolf didn't think they had.

He practiced his knife work on the training dummies for over an hour, the wheels in his head turning while all he could come up with was to let their man get caught and have him and Githa formulate their own escape. Assuming the lass was still alive.

No, he reminded himself. Unless otherwise informed, they had to assume that she was alive and capable of escape, whatever form it came in.

He turned next to unarmed combat. Knife work was all well and good, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as punching the tight bundles of straw that made up their dummies. His frustration was mounting, and he wanted something solid that would buckle under the force of his fists and remind him of his strength.