Opportunities

Chapter One: But It’s All Right

According to the classic story Purloined Shadows, there was once a thief so clever he managed to steal from the Daedric Lord Nocturnal herself. He was also so secretive that no one ever learned his name: he was only the Master of Stealth. A street thief with a lust for adventure once convinced him to take her on as an apprentice, and she was there for the theft of the magical cowl. She had sneaked closer than any human had ever been to Nocturnal in the flesh before she realized that her master was only using her as a distraction.

When I was seven, I got my hands on a copy of Purloined Shadows. Never mind how. It was the one possession I carried everywhere, and I read it over and over again until I had memorized every word, always with the same thought:

Stupid girl. I would have gotten the cowl.

At least the Mages’ Guild hall in Leyawiin was a good place to read. My mother was a perpetual Associate – never did get all of her recommendation letters, because she wasn’t that great with people. She liked mysticism best, and hoped that I would follow in her footsteps. I grew up underfoot of mages, snatching soul gems and magic rings and then being forced to give them back once she found them.

She realized eventually that the more she tried to teach me about mysticism, the more I used it to take things I couldn’t reach physically and see whether anyone was close enough to catch me at it. When I was in my teens she finally gave up and sent me to my father in the Imperial City.

That was charming. Imperial brats were not very forgiving of me for having dark gray hair, or for having a Breton mother and an Imperial name. Unwed parents, and my father a failed gambler in a shack on the Waterfront. It all added up to popularity. I consoled myself with two things. One was the little treasure box I kept under my bed, full of trinkets I stole from the rude kids. Caula’s little gold chain, Herminia’s Welkynd stone that she was so blasted fond of bragging about.

The other was the Gray Fox. I devoured stories of the legendary thief and protector of the poor folk of the Waterfront, and always imagined that I would follow in his footsteps. Not so much for the “protector of the poor” thing, although I supposed it would have been nice to feel he’d really been doing that for me. I wanted the adventure and the challenge of pulling the really big jobs.

When I was sixteen Dad started taking me to the taverns with him to watch him play. To be his “good luck charm,” although it only helped a little. On the positive side, I got more limber wrestling out of drunken grasps, and the one time he almost lost me in a bet I managed to pay myself out with what I’d picked out of the pockets of the other players.

Everything changed for me on the day the Dragon came. Everybody says that. What I mean is that Dad died in the attack. He’d lost more than we could afford, and he went to the Temple of the One to pray for a change of luck. Isn’t that brilliant? Never went there once in his damned life, and that was the day he picked. They found him all burned up next to a clannfear.

I was twenty-two. Old enough to be out on my own, but I’d been sticking around to help Dad, out of habit I suppose. Trying to keep his debts paid, if only so I wouldn’t be the one hunted down for them later. But that was pointless, because he was still deep in the hole on the day he died, and of course everyone wanted it from me.

I turned where I always turned when I was in trouble: to Othrelos.

He was at his house in Elven Gardens, as usual. He didn’t go out much at night. He preferred to rob houses during the day, when his neighbors were away at their jobs. He was good enough to pull that off, and it actually made him look more like a respectable citizen.

He was about the only person I was close to, and for that he was perfect. He didn’t look or act much older than me, although as a Dunmer he probably was – but he was more established, and willing to look out for his friends. He always understood me, and he was criminal without being unsavory, if that makes sense. Other girls might have brothers, friends, and lovers that were separate, but I had Othrelos.

I knocked, not because he would have cared if I let myself in, but because he didn’t live alone and I didn’t want to be yelled at. As soon as he opened the door, he pulled me in, nudged the door shut, and embraced me. “I heard about your father. I’m so sorry.”

I gave a sad little chuckle. “You don’t know how sorry. He owed two thousand septims.”

He stiffened a little. “To whom?”

“Fathis Ules.”

He held me back a little to look me in the face, his red eyes full of concern. “Oh, Lum. That’s serious.” He brushed a wisp of hair out of my face. “And you don’t have it, do you?”

“I can get it, but no, I don’t have it. And you know how he’d prefer to be paid. He won’t wait until I have the cash.” Fathis was the one who’d almost won me in a bet, and he hadn’t been thrilled not to get me. Twisted old mer. And sadly, a twisted old mer who had a habit of beating my father senseless at cards.

He sighed and pulled me back close to him, scratching at the back of my neck. He knew what I was going to ask. We’d done this dance before.

“I’ll pay you back. Ten percent extra.”

“I know you will.” He clucked his tongue and squeezed me a little tighter. “When are you going to actually join the Guild so I can protect you properly?”

I laughed. “Fathis is in the Guild. Anyway, it’s not like Dad can get into trouble again, is it? This should be the last time.”

“I’ll pay him off, Lum, but even so you should clear out for a little while, just to be safe. You shouldn’t have trouble slipping out of town unnoticed – everything’s still such a mess.” He shook his head. “Is your mother still down in Leyawiin?”

“As far as I know. It’s not like she ever writes, or anything.”

“Go down there. I’ll send a letter to the Mages’ Guild when Fathis is calmed down.”

I laid my forehead against his shoulder. “Thank you, O.”

He turned to kiss my forehead, then lifted my chin. “It may be a while before I see you, then,” he murmured.

I smirked at him. “So Mom’s not home?”

Of course Mandil wasn’t really his mother, but he and the Bosmer woman did share the house, and she tended to pitch a fit if she had to listen to us.

He grinned, which lit up his ashen-blue face. “No, Mom’s not home. So kiss me goodbye.”

I tilted my head up to meet his, and our lips touched. As the kiss deepened, I raised my arms around his neck, and his hands started to pull gently at my waist, then stroke up and down my back. When I started to pull at his shirt, he drew back and made as if to lead me to the stairs. I pulled him back to me.

“No,” I grinned, “here’s fine.” When he looked uncertain, I added, “Mom’s not home.” We could be anywhere we liked. And if I liked downstairs on her expensive new rug, then that was where we were going to be.

He chuckled and relaxed into me, and I got his shirt off and ran my hands down his chest, marveling as usual at how bright and pink my hands looked against his skin. He slid his fingers under the collar of my shirt, kissing me again, then started to unbutton. The first few times he passed his palms across my breasts were, as usual, a bit more gentle than I liked, both because his basic nature was gentle and because annoying each other just a little before we gave in was part of our game. I pushed down on his shoulders to get him to kneel. He knew the prompt: he grinned and started to suck hard, biting and pinching until I moaned as I grabbed into his black hair.

I felt his fingers start to work at unfastening my pants, and I stepped out of them for him. He tugged at my pubic hair a couple of times before sinking his fingers into me. I gasped and let him work there for a good moment, watching him stare up at me, his eyes gleaming with delight as I panted. Then I shoved him backward onto the floor and knelt over him, pulling his trousers down and straddling him.

I moved my body up and down over him as if he was already in me, but my hand was between us, stroking him. He loved a little tease first: he looked up at me heavy-lidded, his hands on my shoulders urging me to maintain this rhythm. When I finally slid him into me, he hissed and brought his hands down to cup my breasts. That just for a minute, and then he reached up for my head and yanked at my braids, undoing them with his fingers until my hair hung down between us in a wavy mess, another thing he loved. I shook it out to make it even wilder, and brushed it against his cheek.

I pinched his nipples, and he arched toward me, grinning and clawing at my loosened hair. “Faster,” he whispered, bucking upward with his hips to reinforce the idea. I obliged him and raked my nails across his chest, leaving white trails rather than red ones on his bluish skin.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around my waist and rolled us over so that he was on top of me, then immediately took over the thrusting. I gasped and threw both arms and legs around him, and he chuckled. He was not always this bold, but I adored it when he was. He moved in smooth, long glides that were not too slow and yet not quite fast enough, the speed he knew tormented me into coming rather than taking me there quickly. No amount of writhing would persuade him to my speed, and he grinned at my growling and clawing at his back.

But when I squealed and clenched around him, he lost his reserve, and fell upon me with much more speed, kissing me with a little moan and shaking as he came. The kiss went deeper and more desperate for a minute before it gentled. We lay there for a while without moving, our limbs tangled, the luxurious piles of Mandil’s precious foreign rug soft against my back.

Then he stroked my hair and kissed me again. “Anyway,” he whispered, “you should go soon. Before Fathis starts really looking for you.”

“I know.” I touched his cheek. “And before Mom gets home and finds us naked on her rug.”

“I’ll take care of everything.” He kissed his way down my neck, then rose to his knees and handed me my shirt. Once we were dressed, he pulled me to him again, arms around my waist, his forehead lowered to mine. “Be careful.”

We both laughed at what a silly thing that was to say to me. “No,” I said. “But I’ll be safe.”

He gave me one last kiss before I left. “Shadow hide you,” he said.