Authors: Jaleigh Johnson
Their attacker must have come to the same conclusion. The firing stopped, and the beggars gradually wore out their frenzy. Icelin could feel them pressing together and against her. They protected themselves by sheer numbers, blending into one form.
“Come out, lass.” The voice, mocking and deep, rang out again. “I’ve already seen your pretty face. You look much better without the sores, Icelin Team.”
“Gods, I’m a fool,” Icelin whispered.
Ruen put a finger to his lips and listened. “He’s pacing the dock,” he said. “I can hear his bootsteps. I think he’s alone.”
“He’s had plenty of time to reload,” Icelin said. “If you try to reach the ladder, he’ll put a bolt in your head.”
“I’m not convinced he’s that good of a shot,” Ruen said. He pitched his voice louder. “Name yourself, friend, and we might invite you down to Eveningfeast. We’re having stew and apples with the cores plucked out. Are you coming to us from the Watch?”
“I am. Tarvin is my name, and I won’t be sharing your table, Ruen Morleth,” the man said. “I’m here for the woman, but I’d just as happily bury a bolt in your eye, if you don’t hand her over.”
“I would happily oblige you,” Ruen said, “but I’m afraid she doesn’t want to go with you. She’s a stubborn, difficult creature. I’ve almost drowned her a time or two.”
“You’re a smooth liar, Morleth, but in this I believe you. What of the rest of you, then?” he said, his voice rolling over the heads of the beggars. “You willing to give your lives to protect a fugitive? She’s not one of you. I saw her. She wears a mask of disease. She mocks you and your suffering.”
“She’s fresh air to your foul breath,” Hatsolm said, and the crowd laughed, tentatively. “If she wants to stay in Mistshore and deigns to walk among us, she’s welcome. She’s a lot braver than your Watch friends, who won’t come to Mistshore at all.”
There was a collective murmur of agreement from the crowd. Icelin closed her eyes. Gods, he wouldn’t kill them, would he? Not for hatred of me.
The crowd tensed, waiting. Icelin couldn’t breathe.
“Ruen”
“Don’t,” Ruen said. He tightened his grip on her. “He’s bluffing.”
He was right. There must have been a spark of decency in Tarvin, for in the end he only laughed. “You’re truly a wonder, lady. You’ve got the freaks lapping at your hand.”
“Be silent!” The words burst from her before she could stop them.
“She speaks,” Tarvin cried, and his voice moved past them. “Sing out again, lovely one, and show yourself.”
“Tell your friends to leave Mistshore,” Icelin said. “I’d rather die here than be taken and tried for what’s in the past. Your bitterness makes my choice for me, Tarvin.”
“How long do you think you can survive here?” Icelin could hear him toying with the crossbow string. “We’ll drag you and your friends out of there one by one. Is that what you want for them?”
Ruen shifted, alert again. “Now that’s an odd statement,” he said. “You haven’t yet mentioned your friends. Hard to believe they’d be waiting in the shadows while you have your tantrum. Hardly professional conduct for a Watchman. No, I think you’re alone up there, and you can’t quite figure out what to do about it. If you leave for help, we escape; and if you stay, you’re outnumbered. I don’t envy you, truly.”
“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 filthhow 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 Watchmanwith 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 youI 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 hack. 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.”