Mistshore (37 page)

She ran her hands over the bodice of her dress, marveling at the softness of a fabric that was not stiff with salt water and grime. All trace of the harbor stink was gone from her body, though her hair had been a struggle. She’d ended up cutting most of the muck out of it. The strands barely brushed her shoulders now, and the shorter locks at her temples were stark white. She ran her fingers through the strands self-consciously.

The forced haircut had yielded another secret of her past. Tesleena had seen it first: a faint, almost indiscernible blue light appeared at the back of her neck when she drew deeply on her memory. Tesleena said the spellscar was a circle broken in two places, the lines so thin she would never have seen them unless she’d known to look.

It was one of many things she was going to have to grow accustomed to in her new life. Another was the staff resting beside her on the bench. The red light had fallen dormant, but she could recall it again with a word of power. She had divined no further secrets from the item, but she was satisfied with her small progress. For now, she used it mainly as a walking stick.

It had been five days since her confrontation with Cerest and

her second exposure to the spellplague. Since that night, exhaustion overtook her easily. She found herself leaning on the staff often to maintain her equilibrium.

Her strength was slowly returning. Tesleena had assured her it would, though they both knew she would never again be as spry as a normal twenty-year-old girl.

Tesleena had also told her if she stopped now, she would likely live another twenty years or more. Icelin hadn’t asked what the last several days had cost her in longevity. She didn’t want to know. She would change very little of what she’d done in defense of herself and her friends. Whatever time she had left was the gods’ gift. She didn’t intend to waste it on regret.

A door to her left opened, and Kersh came through. Icelin stood to greet him, but he got to her first. The Watchman wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto her toes.

“Have a care for an aging woman,” Icelin said, laughing.

“Not a chance,” Kersh said. He pulled back to arm’s length and regarded her with mock sternness. “Every time I let you out of my sight you work yourself into more trouble.”

“Lucky for you I’m too stubborn to let anyone do away with me,” Icelin said.

“Are you well, Icelin?” Kersh looked at her intently, as if he could take her apart piece by piece to find any deficiency. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but as long as you’te all right, I can be content.”

“I’m more than well,” Icelin said. “You followed the right course, Kersh. I should have trusted you from the beginning.”

“We should have made ourselves more worthy of your trust,” said a voice from the open doorway.

Icelin looked beyond Kersh to see Daerovus Tallmantle towering over both of them. He tegarded Icelin with an uncertain expression. Icelin had never expected to be on the receiving end of such a look from the imposing Warden.

A memory came to her, with crystal clarity as always, of

another time when she had sat in this chamber. She’d been much younger, and Brant had been with her, holding her hand.

When she looked into the Warden’s eyes, she knew he was remembering that same day.

Kersh squeezed her hands and stepped away. She felt suddenly adrift. She looked at him imploringly, but he shook his head and smiled. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” he said. He gave her hand another squeeze, the Warden a salute, and left the toom.

“I am truly sorry,” Icelin said, “about Tarvin, and any other men you lost these past nights.”

“Tarvin was our sole loss, and that was none of your doing,” Tallmantle said. He sat on the bench across from her and gestured that she should resume her seat. “I know you’re tired,” he said, “so I’ll be brief. Cerest is dead. What of his men? Are any of them still hunting you?”

Icelin shook her head. “The only ones that might be are a pair of elf women Cerest had working with him. I don’t know who they are or what their fates were.”

“They are the Lock sisters,” Tallmantle said, “well known dealers in antiquities and magic. We believe they hired a portion of the men who hunted you, but we have no evidence linking them directly to Cerest, other than your testimony.” His mouth twisted. “They have already lined up several witnesses who will swear they were giving a party the night you were kidnapped.”

“I don’t want to go after them,” Icelin said. “Cerest was the one bent on hunting me. They should have no interest in me now.” She thought of Bellaril, master now of Arowall’s Cradle and all its men. The dwarf woman had her own score to settle with the sisters. Icelin had no doubt the women would be made to answer for what they had wrought in Mistshore.

“What will you do now?” the Warden asked, surprising her with the change in topic.

“Do the charges against me still stand?” Icelin asked.

“One,” Tallmantle said. “The outstanding charge of evading

a Watch summons waits only for my signature to dismiss it.”

“My thanks. You will not be popular for that decision in some circles,” Icelin said.

“You overestimate our enmity,” the Warden said. “Tarvin was the exception. Any others who privately held you responsible for Therondol’s death have changed their opinion, based on the events that have transpired these past days.” A faint smile lit his features. “You’ve shamed them, my lady, by choosing deadly Mistshore as a safer haven than the Watch.” His smile faded. “You shamed me, as well.”

Icelin shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You have more reason to hate me than anyone. Therondol was your son.” Her voice cracked. “I know what it’s like to lose yourself to that kind of grief.”

The world had stopped working the night she’d lost Brant. Right and wrong became concepts that belonged to other people. Perhaps she was more at home in Mistshore after alj. At least she could understand the place now, what created and sustained it as well as what kept it apart from the rest of the city.

The Warden put a hand on her shoulder. Icelin couldn’t meet his eyes. She remembered that day, sitting in his office with Brant. His face had been gray, lifeless as he read the account of the fire and his son’s death.

“I would have been glad of someone to punish that day,” Tallmantle said, as if reading her thoughts. “But it wasn’t you I wanted. I stopped believing in the gods that day. I didn’t care whether any of them lived or died, because I thought they had forsaken this world. They’d forsaken my son.”

Icelin did look up then, but she couldn’t read his expression. “Do you still believe that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” the Warden said. “I’ve learned to put my faith in this city and the men and women who serve to keep it thriving. I look to them for aid and inspiration when I need it. So far, those forces have been enough to sustain me.”

Icelin nodded. She knew that kind of strength. Ruen and Sull and Bellaril had been hers. “What will happen to him?” she asked.

She was speaking of Ruen. They both knew it. “He did bring you to the Watch, as I instructed, though it was after considerable delay,” the Warden said. “Unfortunately, it’s been made clear that he can’t be trusted to act under our direction. That leaves two options, as I see it.”

“You can’t send him back to the dungeons,” Icelin said. “I owe him my life.”

“I don’t enjoy the prospect,” the Warden said, “which is part of the reason I inquired after your immediate plans. Will you take up your great-uncle’s shop and stay in Waterdeep?”

Icelin shook her head. “I considered it, but no. My family wanted me to see more of the world than Waterdeep.”

It was a desire she’d never found in herself before. But she knew the breadth of her life now, and the urgency and wanderlust in her blood had flared. The time to begin her journey was now or never.

The Warden nodded thoughtfully, as if he’d been expecting her answer. “I suppose I could recommend a period of banishment from the city for Morleth. A man of his resources should have no trouble finding a direction in the world. Perhaps that direction will coincide with yours.”

Icelin grinned. “You might ask him about this course of action before you undertake it. He may vastly prefer the dungeons to being saddled with me indefinitely.”

“I have already asked him,” Tallmantle said. “He has agreed to keep an eye on you for me.”

Icelin didn’t know how to respond. Her throat constricted around emotions she couldn’t begin to handle. “My thanks,” she said roughly, “for everything.”

“Gods and friends go with you, lass,” the Warden said, “wherever you choose to walk.”

When Icelin stepped outside the barracks, she didn’t immediately see the monk. Ruen stood in the shadow of a building several paces down the street.

“Were you waiting for me?” she asked when she reached him.

“I would have waited in Tallmantle’s office with you,” Ruen said, uncrossing his arms, “but I can only spend so long in the place. I break out in a rash.”

Icelin fixed a look of annoyance on her face. “So the Warden thinks I need watching after does he? What makes him think you’re the man for this task?”

“I’m still alive,” Ruen said, shrugging. “No small accomplishment, where you’re concerned.”

“Hmmm,” Icelin said. “I suppose you’re right. Will you be vexing me the entire journey?”

“At least halfway there and back.”

“I see. I suppose I’ll have no choice but to pay you back in kind.” Icelin took a step closer to him and leaned in. When it became clear she was about to kiss his cheek, Ruen stepped back, his hands on her shoulders.

Icelin smiled up at him teasingly, but he didn’t return the humor. His eyes were shadowed under the brim of his hat.

“Don’t,” he said simply.

“Don’t what? Don’t kiss me now, or don’t kiss me ever?” she said. “You already know the outcome. What can it hurt?”

“I don’t know anything,” Ruen said. “Nothing is carved in stone.”

“Finally, he admits it. His gift is not infallible,” Icelin said. She brought his gloved hand to her lips and kissed the back. “Congratulations.”

“Mock me if you want, but you’re not giving up either,” he said. “You wouldn’t be leaving Waterdeep if you didn’t think there was something to find in the world that could help you.”

“I admit it freely,” Icelin said. “Aldren’s burden was lifted. But if such a cure doesn’t exist for me, I’ll live the remainder of my life as well as I can. And I’ll have my taste of adventure besides.”

“Lead on, then,” Ruen said.

Icelin nodded, but she did not turn in the direction of the city gates. “I have a stop to make first, to Sull’s shop.”

“It’s closed up,” Ruen said. “Going there won’t change anything.”

“I know,” Icelin said, “but I need to go anyway.”

They walked in silence, and Icelin was surprised, when she turned onto the butcher’s street, to see Bellaril standing in front of the shop. She held the signboard with its painted haunch of meat in her hand.

“I didn’t expect you’d get roped into helping him,” Icelin said when they walked up.

“Didn’t think it myself,” the dwarf woman said. She made way as Sull’s bulk crowded the doorway. The butcher’s bright red hair caught the sunlight. His teeth flashed in a wide smile when he saw Icelin. He dropped the hammer and nails he was carrying into his apron pocket and went to her.

He swept her up in a hug that was ten times as crushing as the one Kersh had given her. Icelin had no breath left to protest.

“Almost done here,” he said when he released her. “Just need to board the windows for winter, then we can be on our way.”

“She came to make you reconsider,” Ruen spoke up.

Icelin elbowed the monk in the ribs. She smiled sheepishly under Sull’s black glare. “I’ll be fine, Sull. Ruen’s coming with me, and what about your shop?”

“Got it all with me,” Sull said. He trotted around the side of the building and came back with a small cart and pony. “We need provisions, and I’m goin’ to see to it you don’t starve on hard rations. Besides, I’ve got recipes for the road,” he said proudly. “There are spices and meats out there in the world Waterdeep never sees. How can I pass up the chance to bring some back?

This is research, is what this is, an investment. Got nothin’ to do with you,” he said, grinning broadly.

Icelin looked at Ruen, who shrugged. “I dori’t mind eating good food,” he said.

She appealed to the dwarf woman next, but Bellaril shook her head. “Nothing to me if he goes ot not, but I’m staying. The Cradle’s a mess, and I’m still looking forward to dealing with the pretty elves,” she said, a wicked light gleaming in her eyes.

Icelin sighed. “Fine. You’re all baggage, though, and nothing but.”

Ruen bowed. Sull grinned wider.

When they passed beyond the city gates, Icelin silently composed the letter in her head.

Dear Grandfather,

I leave today on a new adventure. Faerűn calls to me, and I’m willing to hear what she has to say. Wish me good fortune, and know that wherever I go, I carry all of you in my heart.

Love always,

Icelin