This will probably be the last I talk about the Thieves’ Guild – and I’ve certainly said my share by now! Yes, it’s going to be patchy, no, I’m not giving you all the details. My children know a few of these stories, and they’ve seen the armour – my youngest is even wearing it now. But do they actually believe all of it? I doubt it. My grandchildren and great-grandchildren have no idea whatsoever, and I’m not so bothered about telling them though I get some satisfaction out of surprising them now and again when I plant sweets into their pockets without them knowing how I did it. There’s a reason I’ve never lacked for money and my children have all had a little bit of savings for a rainy day when we needed it – the coffers of the Guild overflowed and I received my cut until I passed the title on. But the real prize is knowing when my time comes, that I have a place in the halls of the Nord afterlife and that Vilkas is waiting for me. No oaths to bind me, no contracts to hold me.
And how I managed that one will be my final story about the Circle, so listen carefully.
To the Twilight Sepulchre I went with Nightingale armour, bow and blade. I knew full well I’d have work to do at the Guild once I was done, and then beyond to meeting Esbern and Delphine again at Riverwood. All that however was in a distant future that I couldn’t even contemplate at the moment. All my attention was placed on the gamble ahead of me; I just hoped I had the courage to bluff it out and then play my hand – and also hoped my cards were the stronger suit. Would it be enough?
When I came to the Sepulchre and the entry to the Pilgrim’s Path I was greeted by a shade – not exactly the sort of welcoming committee I would have liked but at least it wasn’t a draugr. As a matter of fact, this one introduced himself to me in his hollow voice as he regarded me with glowing eyes.
“Greetings, fellow Nightingale; I do not recognise you, but I sense you are one of us.”
“The pleasure is mine – I have brought the Key, and Mercer Frey is dead,” I replied as smoothly as I could – I was getting used to strangeness in Skyrim, and talking to the dead was no longer that alarming! ”The task is done, and I will do this for Nocturnal, the guild and myself.”
“Then perhaps my death was not in vain, if you have done what I could not. I was blinded, but at least the guild’s honour will be returned.”
“You’re Gallus,” I blurted out. It was a guess, but it was the right one.
“G…yes, well, I haven’t heard that name in some time,” the Sentinel mused. ”But, yes, I was Gallus.”
“Then I give you Karliah’s regards,” I said with a smile. It was his turn to look somewhat taken aback. I could see Gallus actually look over my shoulder, a hopeful expression on his faded features and my heart felt for him. ”She couldn’t come, as well you know,” I said quietly. ”But she’ll follow me, I’m pretty certain of that.”
“Then I will wait – what’s a few hours’ more?” Gallus replied with a ghost of a smile, but then he was solemn again. ”The Pilgrim’s Path is a trial of your skill as a thief and as a Nightingale. That would have been enough in times past but with the Key gone, my brethren are rather confused, and therefore dangerous – we lose our power and our grip on this world since we cannot access Nocturnal’s realm without the key. The way is shut. When you return the Key the door will open anew, but at this point they are too stirred to frenzy to help.”
Oh lovely – it was Ysgramor’s Tomb all over again. Granted then I had three companions with me, and now I was alone. Still this was work I had done for years in one way or another. ”I don’t suppose you can give me a pointer or three about getting through?”
“There is always someone who tries to find an easy way through,” Gallus replied. ”You may find some clues on those who fell beforehand, but on the Pilgrim’s Path, the only skills you have are yourself and your own resourcefulness. I wish you the Lady’s luck, Nightingale.”
And with that, Gallus faded away into air and I was alone.
Have you ever looked back upon your life and wondered how in all the world you managed to get out of the mess you may have put yourself into? The Pilgrim’s Path was all that, and more: guile, ingenuity, sneakiness and twists and turns. A thief can’t just be nimble in body, we have to be in brain as well. The whole of the Path had trap after trap, and while I managed to find a journal with a few clues on the body of one fool soul who didn’t have the wit to survive, mostly it was up to me trying to sneak past shades, evade traps and solve puzzle after puzzle. I forgot all sense of time, forgot anything but continuing onward, until I came upon a final room, just a round disk in the floor and a wall before me. Dead end.
A wrong turn? Surely not – I cursed under my breath as, if it was so, I had wasted precious time. But no… this place was all about hiding what was in plain sight, and so I stepped forward onto the disk. A leap of faith as it were, but it proved the right one. The floor shifted under my weight and slid down into a well. No way in but above my head over ten meters, and now no way out. Someone had died here unable to get out, and the corpse was ahead of me – but then, that someone hadn’t had the Key. I held it in my hand and felt the same jolt passing through my arm as somewhere, on some plane, all the potential luck across the span of time came together, and clicked into place. With this new perception, I looked around, and then down. Between my feet was a small hole, innocuous and easy to miss. And into that whole I slipped the Key, and turned.
The wall behind me slid to one side, and I stepped through. And there I was at the gate of Nocturnal’s realm in a small cavern, with three corridors beyond and a well in the centre that seemed to drop down into eternity; the Ebonmere, the door to Nocturnal’s realm. On the floor were three crescent moons upon the floor; in Valenwood our branch of the Circle is known as the Silver Crescents so I knew the symbols well.
I gathered myself best I could and, with my fist clenched over the Key, I called out to the well of pitch-black water. ”Nocturnal, Lady of Shadows, I have fulfilled the oath and have the Key,” I said with a bit more confidence than I felt. ”May we parley?”
This time, there wasn’t just a shimmer and a voice – instead a full flock of nightingales with feathers as black as pitch poured out of the Ebonmere at my feet, spiralling upwards and then flying out in all directions. Nocturnal Herself was hovering before me, staring at me with eyes that seemed to stare into the void itself, birds perched on her forearms as she watched me impassively.
“What is this mention of ‘parley’, Nightingale?” She asked coolly. ”We have a contract, and the terms were agreed. Breaking that contract in my own chamber, or even insinuating it, is most unwise.”
“I’m not breaking the contract,” I said smoothly. ”I’m offering an amendment.”
“By what right do you think you have the right to do such a thing?” the Lady asked, and her eyes narrowed. This was it, I was going to have to talk fast, and convincingly.
“You see all luck which means you can see all possibilities,” I said as calmly as I could, still gripping the Key in my hand. I then raised the Key and clenched it in both of my fists. ”So then, I invite you to see mine…and to see the luck of the world if I fall here.”
I didn’t see anything – that’s probably a mercy – but I did feel the shift, the alignment, and somehow this spanned back through my life, and then forward and beyond. Infinite possibilities, infinite threads that only Nocturnal herself understands and can make sense of. The Lady’s eyes flashed and a thousand scenes were reflected across her ebony eyes. I couldn’t make sense of them, and I didn’t want to. But she was seeing my wyrd and also seeing what happened if she struck me down where I stood – all this by the power of the Key, the most powerful bit of luck in the world.
For a moment, her eyes widened, and then her face was impassive as before. ”Ah, the Dragon returns,” She mused. ”You do not know who or what he is, but I do. Yes, I do. Dragonborn, then? I wondered as your luck is strong, even without my aid. And dared to hide it from me as well.”
“It was my secret to keep, Mistress of Mysteries,” I replied. ”But now I say to you – I seem to have a luck or wyrd beyond your ken, and beyond your skill to influence. I daresay that it wasn’t entirely your skill that brought me here, but mine. And that is as my Lady sees fit – You are the Unknowable and I do not seek to understand you. But you must understand me – I come to parley, but I come too with a promise.”
“A threat now, is it? I grow weary, Sentinel.”
“Do you see a mere threat in me?” I replied in my flattest tone. ”I came here to bring the Key to you and I can just as easily take it back. I bested Mercer and I daresay I could best anyone else here. I will seal this place, the Sentinels will be drained of power and you will be nothing but a legend to the Thieves’ Guild. No more souls. No more contracts, alone in a black pool, and forgotten. There will be nothing for you, nothing left but an empty cave.”
I am not sure where I got the guts to say this, but I had dealt with one daedra before – and the one thing I do know about the Princes is that they simply thrive on worshippers. They want nothing better than devotion and souls – deny them this, and it’s starvation; they shrivel, wither, and are no more. I didn’t need to say more; she had gazed into my ever potential and could see the path. She knew I meant every word.
Silence greeted my rather bold statement for a few moments. ”Say on,” said Nocturnal, stroking the feathers of one of her birds.
I wasn’t in the clear yet, but I’d given the stick – it was the carrot which mattered; offering something that mattered but wasn’t merely a material trinket; such things are meat and mead to a daedra. ”The last Thieves’ Guild of Skyrim needs a Guildmaster,” I continued. ”I’m taking the role because no one else will. I will put my luck and my skill to the task. I’ll put the guild back on its feet and build it up as strong as ever. I’ll create some more chapters, get more recruits. There won’t be a guard anywhere who doesn’t curse our names by the time I am done, and so it should be! I’ll build a shrine to you in every hall, and I’ll send those who are worthy to swear their oaths to you as Sentinels – if they choose to serve you beyond life, then so be it, but once I am done the Sepulchre will be full of devotees to watch and ward you for all time, as long as I fell the black dragon. But once I’ve done this, and my days as a mortal are done, my soul is my own. Are the terms fair, Lady?”
My heart was hammering, though my face was set in stone. Nocturnal was silent, staring down at me, not moving. Had I managed it? Or was I about to be gutted like a fish upon the stones?
Still, silence. And then, at the corners of her lips I could see the faint hint of a smile. ”Your deviousness is impressive, if tiresome. The terms are agreed, and I will give you a bit of my favour when you deal with the World-Eater – for if he wins, then too will Tamriel burn and I would have my worshippers whole and sleek enough to give me praise and service.” The smile was gone now, and her eyes bored into me. ”But this is the very last amendment to any contract you will ever bring to me, Dragonborn. Do not be so proud of your silver tongue – I will rip it out by the root and feed it to my winged children. You are not so precious that I would give you too much rein to do as you please. While you wear the garb of a Nightingale, you are mine. Now release the Key into the Ebonmere, and you are dismissed.”
I bowed low, then pitched the Key into the watery dark. Down it fell, and there it remains, keeping a bit of Nocturnal’s realm open here, and allowing a little luck to flow through. And with that, the nightingales gathered again, circling and calling, then sinking down beneath the water’s surface, and Nocturnal was gone.
I finally exhaled, my knees wobbling as I leaned against the wall behind me. Done then, and free – well, as free as I could be as a Dragonborn. It would have to be enough. I hoped it was anyway. I stood up once I felt I wasn’t automatically going to collapse, then sighed. ”You can come out now.”
Karliah stepped out from one of the three corridors, her eyes were as wide as saucers. ”By the Divines, Dreema, you’re bold. I thought you were done for.”
“What, her? Never,” Gallus added, stepping out from yet a second tunnel-way with a small smile on his ghostly face. ”Well played, Nightingale, I’ve never seen such skill. But why such insistence? You could have doomed the entire world if Nocturnal had decided to cast you aside.”
“For the same reason I’m about to leave you both here,” I said with my own smile as I studied Karliah and Gallus together. ”There’s someone who will wait for me in Sovngarde, and I won’t keep him waiting in vain if I can manage it. And speaking of which, I believe I’ll leave you two in peace; I’m going back to Riften, and then I’m going home.” I bowed to them both, and hoped they’d have enough time to say all the things lovers wish they could have said to each other before fate took away the opportunity. They wouldn’t have long to do it, of course, but least I could do was give them privacy.
And that was that, really. I fulfilled my oath, and you can thank or blame me for the fact there is now a cadre of thieves from Markath to Riften, and they’ve never been more successful. I set up a chapter in every major city, and I was Guildmaster until Vex’s son took over the role. The Thieves’ Guild’s luck has never faltered in all that time, though who knows what the future holds – rumour has it someone is always trying to steal the Key, and it’s possible the Guild will falter again. But that’s just wyrd for you. When my daughter picked up my abilities, even though Vilkas wasn’t pleased, I let her join the Guild. And when she joined the Nightingales, I gave her my armour, my bow, and my blade. That too is wyrd, and while I can admonish her for not taking an “honest” job, I can also say I am rather proud of her.
Anyway, I was now free of side-responsibilities. Harbinger and Guildmaster. Now that my path was clear, I could finally concentrate on the biggest issue of all – being Dragonborn. And I hadn’t forgotten what Nocturnal had said – “World-Eater” was the myth-name of the black dragon.
Not ominous at all.
Comments
Clever play on words.