“Shut up,” Tarvin snarled. “I can wait you out well enough. How would that be? A tenday with no food, no water, and no one to clean your filth—how friendly will you be to the pretty bitch then?”
“Maybe he’s right,” Icelin whispered. “If he keeps us here, people could get hurt. You said yourself I should turn myself in.”
“Not to him,” Ruen said. “Not to that one. He’s no Watchman.”
“I killed his friend,” Icelin said. “He has reason to despise me.”
“The beggars have done nothing to him,” Ruen said. “No Watchman is so cowardly as to threaten the weak.” He didn’t realize his voice was rising.
“He thinks he knows so much about us,” Tarvin said. “Don’t you wonder why that is? You want to stake your chances with Morleth? Maybe you’d be grateful to hear some truth about him, eh?”
“Don’t listen to him,” Ruen said. There was a note of panic in his voice Icelin had never heard before. Dread stirred in her belly.
“Is she too shy to ask? Are you keeping her silent, Morleth, with the weight of your eyes? If you’re innocent, what could you possibly have to fear?”
“What truth is he talking about, Ruen?” Icelin said. His body was rigid. He could have been carved of stone.
“Did you ever ask him how he escaped Waterdeep’s dungeons?” Tarvin asked. “It must have been a marvelous feat. I’m shocked he hasn’t bragged of it up and down Mistshore. Didn’t you ever think it strange that a man like him, a thief, would risk his life to aid you?” Tarvin was pacing again. His voice came from directly above them. “Such men work only in exchange for wealth you’ve never possessed, my lady. Of course it was easy enough for Morleth to steal the treasure he wanted. He lived like a king, with Hawlace’s collection to sell off piece by piece. You get used to that kind of lifestyle, well then you can’t stand being put in a cage. Makes a man do things. Maybe make bargains he’ll come to regret later.”
Icelin twisted, trying to look into Ruen’s face, but he pressed her down.
“Don’t move,” Ruen said tersely. “He wants you panicked. As soon as you throw the cloak off, you’ll be staring down his crossbow. Don’t be stupid!”
“Let me go,” Icelin said. She pushed against Ruen’s chest, but she couldn’t move him. The cloak and his body were suffocating her. Smells of sweat and fear and sickness mingled together in her nostrils.
“Or maybe,” Tarvin said, “the question you should be asking yourself is why a master thief turned Watch agent can’t deliver one murdering wench to his betters?”
The strength left Icelin’s body. She stopped struggling and lay still on the cold floor.
“Icelin,” Ruen said. The guilt in his voice sealed everything. “Listen to me. He’s baiting you. He knows your temper; he’s using it to paw at you.”
“Deny it,” Icelin said. “Tell me he’s not speaking the truth.”
At last, he looked at her. Was it any harder for him now than it had ever been? His red eyes betrayed no expression, as always. Somehow that made it worse.
“What can I tell you that you will want to hear, Icelin?” Ruen said. “That I’m not a Watchman—with fervor I tell you I’m not.”
“Are you working with them?” Icelin said.
“Yes.”
Unexpectedly, Icelin had the urge to laugh. “It might have been easier if you’d tried a denial,” she said. “At least then I would know you regretted it.”
He clenched his jaw. “You’ll never know how much. There were reasons.”
“So many things make sense now,” Icelin said. “It’s very freeing, you know. You risking your life for so little payment, how easy it was to find you—I should have known my tracking prowess left too much to be desired. I suppose Fannie was in on everything? I probably had that one coming, though, since I almost got her killed. You should pay her extra for that.”
“It was never about coin,” Ruen said.
“Actually, that might have made things turn out differently,” Icelin said. “On the raft, I should have offered up my virtue after all. It might have been inducement enough for you not to betray me.”
“Spew venom at me later,” Ruen said. “We don’t have time for this.”
“You’re right,” Icelin said. “Don’t worry. You thought I should go to the Watch, and now the Watch has come to me. I’m going to give everyone what they want.”
“I won’t let you,” Ruen said when she tried to push against him. “We’ve danced this dance before. You won’t move me.”
“Probably not,” Icelin said, “but I have other weapons now.”
She lifted her head and put her lips against his mouth. It wasn’t a kiss, and not remotely romantic. But it was skin to skin contact, and that was all she needed.
For Ruen’s part, she might have hit him with a lightning bolt and evoked a similar reaction. He recoiled so fast that, for just an instant, he lost his balance.
Icelin shoved him with all her strength. She couldn’t roll him off her. He locked his legs around her knees, but she managed to get one hand free. She ripped the cloak from her body.
Fresh air and startled cries from the beggars swamped her. Icelin blinked in the darkness, trying to adjust her eyes. She heard a clattering on the ladder and looked up.
Tarvin stood halfway up on the rungs, the crossbow leveled at her chest.
“Well met, lady,” he said. “I’m glad you could see reason.” Ruen released her and rolled to his feet. He was an easy target, but Tarvin kept the crossbow trained on Icelin.
“I’m not going to bother with you, Morleth,” he said, his gaze never leaving Icelin’s. “Tales of your weapon-catching skills abound. But I don’t think your lady is quite as talented. Step back, please. Give Icelin room to climb the ladder.”
He climbed back up, slowly, keeping the weapon level on her. When he was back on the dock, he motioned to her.
“Climb up and keep both hands on the rungs,” he said. “Bring your clever disguise.”
Icelin picked up the cloak and spared one last glance at Ruen and the cluster of beggars. She made her eyes move unseeing over Bellaril and Sull, who were huddled near the back of the crowd.
They must have been herded there by the others, for protection, Icelin thought. Bellaril gripped Sull’s arm to keep him from moving. Icelin inclined her head a fraction at the dwarf, as if to say, keep him back. Bellaril returned the nod.
“Thank you,” Icelin said to Hatsolm, who stood at the front of the group.
“Be wary, lass,” Hatsolm said. His eyes were sad. “Remember what I said. You aren’t in a child’s world now.” She nodded. She didn’t look at Ruen.
The ladder climb was quick, much faster than the descent had been, though she tried to go as slowly as possible. When she was on the dock, she held out her disguise cloak to Tarvin.
“Put it on,” Tarvin said. “I want to see what you look like.”
The group below stirred angrily, but Icelin didn’t react. She unfolded the cloak and draped it over herself. Immediately, the sores reappeared, and her flesh took on the ghostly pallor of disease.
“Is this to your liking?” Icelin said. “It’s not a punishment equal to Therondol’s death.”
“You’re right,” Tarvin said. “I take my vengeance where I can.”
“I understand, but if you march a plagued woman through Mistshore at the end of a crossbow, you’re bound to attract unwanted attention. Is your vengeance worth that?”
“Worth my life and yours.” He took her by the shoulder and spun her around so her back was to him. He put the crossbow at the base of her spine. “Walk, lady, and don’t fret. We aren’t going far.”
Borion was cold, and he didn’t like the harbor smell. Not that anyone asked his opinion.
He walked slightly behind Trik, his partner. The elf with the funny face had told them to split up, but Borion never went anywhere without Trik. When Trik wasn’t around, things got fuzzy. If the elf was angry, well that was too bad
.
“What we doing out here, Trik?” Borion asked. He must have asked this question before, because Trik turned around and made a dirty gesture at him. Borion grinned. He couldn’t help it if his memory was short.
They fell into step together, but Trik was quiet for a while. That didn’t bother Borion. He knew Trik would answer him before too long.
“You know, Boss, I’m walking here, asking myself that same question. Frightening that I’m starting to think at your level, isn’t it?”
Trik always called him “Boss.” Borion wasn’t any higher rank than anyone else in the band, but he was bigger than all of them, and stronger.
“If you don’t know why we’re out here, Trik, how do you know where we’re going?” Borion asked, not because he was overly curious, but because he didn’t want to get lost in Mistshore. He didn’t like the place.
He didn’t like the city much, either. If they were traveling, he’d be happy. Outside the walls, the air was cleaner, and there weren’t so many people. People scared him. They moved too fast, and he had a hard time keeping up with their speech.
It wasn’t that way with Trik. Trik had lost part of his leg in a tomb raid, had it chopped off by a portcullis that hadn’t stayed up like it was supposed to. So now he walked with a limp. Borion had no trouble keeping pace with Trik.
“We’re going to stay close to those whale bones, or whatever they are,” Trik said, “maybe go in for some ale. Let the elf rot for a while, I say.”
“Boss won’t like that,” Borion said, referring this time to their actual boss, Rynin.
Trik stopped again, so suddenly Borion almost ran him over. “Have you got maggots for brains?” Trik said. “Rynin’s dead. He got himself killed in that fight with Arowall’s guards. We’re thin in numbers, my dumb friend, and it’s starting to make me anxious.”
It took an effort, but finally Borion remembered. That’s right. Rynin was dead. So were others of his friends. What if Trik was next?
Trik seemed to know what he was thinking. “Don’t you worry, Boss, nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m thinking the coin’s not enough to find this little girl. I’m thinking we go off, round up the rest of the company what’ll come with us, and leave the city tonight. What you think of that?”
Trik seemed confident, and that made Borion feel somewhat better. “Where will we find the others, Trik? We’re all split up.
Trik?”
But Trik wasn’t listening to him. He was looking at something behind Borion. Without a word, he grabbed Borion’s arm and pulled him behind a stack of barrels.
“What is it, Trik?” Borion asked, but Trik waved a hand for him to be quiet. He pointed across the harbor. On a walkway that ran paralell to their own, two figures stood. One of them, a woman, had a crossbow pointed at her face.
“That girl look familiar to you, Boss?” Trik asked. He sounded delighted.
Borion squinted at the woman. She was shaking out a bundle of rags. She looked tired and underfed. Pretty, though. He would have liked to have a wife as pretty as her. Then, the larger impact of Trik’s question hit him.
“Is that her?” Borion said. “The girl the elf wants?”
“I’d lay any amount of coin it is,” Trik said. “Looks like someone got to her first, though.”
“He doesn’t look nice,” Borion said.
The man with the crossbow was talking to the girl; they couldn’t hear what was said. The girl cast the rags over herself. Her body shriveled and transformed, assuming a horrifying shape.
Borion clutched Trik’s arm. “What’d he do to her?” he said, frantic. “He’s cursed her!”
Trik shook him off. “No, he didn’t. He’s no wizard, not a dark god’s priest, either. It’s just a disguise, so people won’t know who she is. Doesn’t matter, though, we’ve already seen her.”
“We should tell the elf,” Borion said. The elf would come and get the girl, and they could finally leave Mistshore.
“Still trying to think, are we?” Trik said. “Don’t you remember, we’re supposed to bring the girl to the elf. Then we get our reward.”
“But it’s only the two of us,” Borion said. “I thought the elf wanted us to tell him so all of us could go after her together.”
“The elf hasn’t managed to do anything right since we started this chase,” Trik said angrily. “We bring the girl to him, we get more coin than the others, and we get out of here sooner. That sounds right to me, Boss. What about you?”
The explanation sounded simple enough, but it still bothered Borion. He tried to put the doubts out of his mind. He could never remember anything properly. Maybe Trik was right, and it would be better to bring the girl directly to the elf. It would save time, and Borion wanted to get out of Mistshore more than anything.
“What’s the plan?” Borion asked.
“Well, seeing as that fellow with the crossbow’s not one of us, he must be a Watch spawn in disguise. First we take her from him, but we have to make sure he doesn’t shoot her, or us. Think you can get the crossbow if I get him?”
“Yes,” Borion said. The one thing he was good at was taking things. Lately they were objects from tombs and ruins, but he’d taken people before, for coin or food.
“Let’s go, then,” Trik said. “There’s a lady in distress.”
CHAPTER 17
Icelin walked slowly. It was difficult to see out from under the raggedy hood and difficult to think with the tip of a crossbow bolt shoved into her spine. Tarvin wasn’t taking any chances. He kept her close, one hand on the crossbow trigger and the other on her arm to steer her in the right direction.
They were headed back to the Dusk and Dawn. It made sense as a meeting spot for the Watch patrols, especially if they were moving around without their official regalia. Would Kersh be among them? Icelin hadn’t thought of her friend in days. Her former life seemed nothing more than a distant dream.
They reached an intersection. The pathway to the left ended in collapse, wooden planks floating on the water. The other three paths were intact. Tarvin pointed her to the right. Icelin paused to pick her footing and thought she heard the clicking of boots echoing off the planks behind them.
She tried to turn, but Tarvin twisted her arm painfully.
“No going back,” he said. “Face front, keep marching.”
“There’s someone behind us,” Icelin said. “Can’t you hear?”
“To get behind us they’d have to swim,” Tarvin said. “We’re alone out here, and if you stall me again I’ll put a limp in your step.”
He forced her forward. Stumbling, Icelin went, but she could feel eyes on them. She couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore, and that made the sensation worse.
Could it be Ruen? If it was, you’d never have heard him, she told herself. Not that she should expect a rescue from that corner, which meant the eyes behind them were probably unfriendly.
Icelin searched her mind for a spell. There were empty corridors all throughout her mind. She’d spent herself of all but the harshest spells. She couldn’t risk her magic going wild now.
“Tarvin, please,” she said, “think. What if—”
She angled her head in time to see the board. It was one of the planks from the collapsed walkway. She saw it pass out of her peripheral vision and instinctively dropped to the walkway.
She twisted; Tarvin still gripped her arm. He cried out, but the board silenced him. It smashed him in the side of the head.
Icelin heard a weird, hollow crunch. Tarvin slumped to a half-sitting position on the walkway. She could already see he was dead.
Icelin went for his hands, seeking the crossbow, but it was gone. Two pairs of boots filled her vision, one of the pairs at least two sizes bigger than the other. She looked up to see a man as tall as Sull and twice as round. He held Tarvin’s crossbow like it was a toy. He had brown hair and a long shirt that he’d belted clumsily below his gut. His clothes were soaking wet.
His partner was slicker, his dark
hair shaved to stubble. He had green eyes above a pointed nose. His clothes were saturated too.
“It’s amazing how often, in Waterdeep, the goods change hands,” the slick man said. In response, the giant pointed the crossbow at her. “You can take off the cloak, though. We’re not so nasty as the Watch.”
Icelin slid the cloak off her shoulders. She cast it into the harbor. “So you belong to Cerest?” she said.
The slick man took umbrage at that. “We’re treasure hunters. You just happen to be the treasure tonight.”
“I see,” Icelin said. “How wonderful for me.”
The giant looked uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t we be going, Trik?”
“Soon, Boss,” the slick man said. “Hands in front of you, lady. I haven’t forgotten you’re a spell hurler.”
Icelin put her hands together while Trik tied them. They stood on the walkway, and a breath later they all heard the approaching footsteps. It was something akin to a herd of elephants charging in from the sea.
Icelin turned. Horror crashed over her. “Sull, no!”
The butcher barreled into the two men from behind. He got both arms around the giant, pinning the crossbow against his side. Icelin didn’t think the man could be moved, but Sull hauled him off his feet and slammed him to the walkway.
He went for his cleaver, but the giant kicked sideways, sweeping Sull’s legs out from under him. The butcher twisted and came down on top of the giant. Part of the walkway splintered and collapsed into the harbor, but the big men didn’t notice. They were wrestling each other with a vengeance, punching and kicking and grabbing at hair. They might have been children, but the blows they landed were hard enough to break bone.
“Settle ’im!” Trik said. He started forward to aid the giant.
Icelin brought her bound arms up, smashing Trik in the face. He took the blow in complete surprise, his jaw cracking painfully into her knuckles. He staggered back. She drove him forward, trying to push him off into the water, but he caught himself against a piling.
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