Dangerous, sadistic cats, these two. Cetest couldn't help adoring them both.
'We are in agreement,' he said. He held out the bloody rose and watched Shenan kiss the stem.
Glass shattered behind them. Cerest turned, his hand on his sword hilt.
Melias lay sprawled in the doorway of the gladehouse. He'd collapsed against the structure and shattered the fragile door panel with his weight. Blood trailed from a blunt strike to the elf s head.
Cerest crouched next to the dazed elf. Melias's pupils were huge. His mouth moved, but the words that came out made no sense. He'd suffered too much damage to his head to live.
'Melias.' Cerest shook the elf, trying to get him to focus. Melias whimpered, and his head lolled to one side.
'I think you might be in for more of a game than you thought, Cerest,' Shenan commented.
The small elf crouched next to Melias and cradled his head in her lap. 'Dearest,' she cooed in his ear. 'Who did this to you?
'She… ran,' the elf murmured. He was looking past Shenan, up at the gladehouse ceiling and through it to the stars. 'We're dead… butchered… us.' A slack, vacant smile passed over the elf's face.
'Yes, my sweet. Unfortunately, she did.' Shenan took the elf s chin and forehead in her hands and jerked his head to the side. The sharp crack echoed off the gladehouse walls.
'You take too many liberties, Shenan,' Cerest told her. 'He was my man. I wanted him questioned.'
'It was a kindness to end it,' Shenan said, rising to her feet. 'Pain is only alluring when there is the possibility of surviving it.'
'I have to leave,' Cerest said. He headed for the main building, leaving Melias's body concealed in the gladehouse.
The death of his men complicated matters with the Watch. They would not easily believe a waif of a girl could overpower two armed elves. How in the names of the gods had she done it?
She must be more powerful than I imagined, Cerest thought. The idea gave him a thrill of excitement and trepidation all in the same moment.
So much the better he declaim her a murderess, Cerest thought. He would tell the Watch that his men had been killed trying to retrieve his stolen property. They would have no proof to the contrary, as long as Icelin kept running.
The she-elves trailed behind him. 'Do you intend to track her down by yourself?' Ristlara said.
Cerest stopped at the door to his house. Another idea occurred to him. On the surface it seemed perfect: efficient, clean, and with no way it could be traced back to him. But could he trust the Locks?
When he turned, he addressed Shenan. 'Those human muck-rakers you're employing-how many are there?'
'Seven,' Shenan said. 'But they can muster the strength of twelve or more for longer expeditions. Why?'
'What say you put them to a different use, something that might actually end in profit?'
He could sense Ristlara gearing up for a fight, but Shenan's look was speculative. 'How much of the profit would be for us?' she asked.
'If I get Icelin-unharmed-the percentage will twice exceed what you take now, ' Cerest promised.
Shenan smiled. 'You truly are smitten,' she said. 'We'll bring the men. I want to watch this spectacle.'
CHAPTER 4
Watchman Kersh Tegerin turned off Copper Street, crossing a footbridge linking Dailantha's Herbs and Exotic Plants to Breerdil's Fine Wines. A small, man-made stream ran under the bridge. Breerdril and Dailantha spent a small fortune to keep the water enchanted to appear midnight blue.
Kersh counted the paces from one end of the footbridge to the other. It was a habit from childhood that he'd never quite broken. Meren, his old friend, used to tease him for it.
The bell for gateclose had rung long ago, but he still had a little time before he needed to join up with his patrol. Kersh wasn't looking forward to the night's work. The word had gone out when he'd left the barracks: the Watch had orders to bring in Icelin Team for questioning.
How in the names of the gods did the girl get herself into these situations?
Kersh nodded to the lamplighters as they passed him on the street. The trio of men waved back, their iron reaching-hooks resting against their shoulders. They were sooty standard-bearers. The soft glow of flickering lights followed in their wake.
This time of night always made Kersh think of Meren, and tonight the feeling was heightened. They'd been on patrol together ten winters ago and had become fast friends. Meren had been young and, with all the wisdom of youth, had believed the quiet streets of North Ward held no threat for someone as spry and as skilled as he.
Meren learned differently, and Kersh lost his first real friend in Waterdeep. Kersh remembered the day vividly. The boy had had no kin, but his former employer had come with his great-niece to claim the boy's body.
Icelin had been only a child at the time, but Kersh had never met a person who acted as she did. Bristling with opinions and outlandish teasing, she had seemed a fully formed adult merely lost in a child's wrappings.
Kersh remembered how, in the midst of his grieving, this strange child had walked right up to him and greeted him by name, as if they'd been friends for all their lives. Later, Kersh learned that she'd memorized the names and faces of almost all the Watch officers, simply by passing through the barracks when she'd escaped her great-uncle's sight.
After their first meeting at the funeral, she visited him regularly. She told him stories about Meren-silly, adorable boy, she'd called him-and his time working for her great-uncle in his sundries store. No detail or behavior escaped her memory.
Their friendship had continued, and Kersh had watched the odd child blossom into a lovely, confident woman. But he never forgot the affection with which she'd reached out to him all those years ago. It had been a balm to the terrible grief. The only being she paid more attention to was her great-uncle. She trailed his heels as if he were the center of her vast playing field.
So when the order came down that Icelin was to be taken for thievery and questioning for Brant's death, Kersh knew something was terribly amiss. Icelin was in trouble. And if Kersh knew her at all, he knew she wouldn't prefer the idea of surrendering to the Watch.
After the lamplighters had passed by, Kersh slid to a crouch on the bridge. Directly below his feet, between two of the bridge's supports, stood Icelin herself.
She was knee-deep in the perfect, midnight blue water, her thin frame concealed by the shadows. Behind her, a huge man emerged from a metal grate at water level. He crouched beside her, hissing at the cold water. Kersh had never seen the man before, but the small bridge barely concealed his massive frame. If the lamplighters came back this way to chase an errant Same, they would spot the pair in a heartbeat.
'Icelin, what web have you gotten yourself caught in?' Kersh said through his teeth. 'And why meet here, bare-bottomed to the world?'
'Hello, old friend,' Icelin said, 'lovely to see you too. I'm afraid the risk was necessary, as I'm a bit pressed for time.'
She shivered with cold and had deep circles under her eyes. Her hands gripped the bridge pilings as if for support. There were dark stains under her fingernails. Kersh suppressed a gasp.
'Icelin, what happened?' he demanded. 'The patrols are getting your description as we speak. We're supposed to bring you in-subdued, if necessary.'
'Then it's fortunate I'm a master of subtlety,' Icelin jested. 'Stand up and pretend to enjoy the night, you dolt, so no one looks under the bridge.'
'This is serious,' Kersh said, but he did as she asked. 'How can you be so reckless?'
'I am taking this situation very seriously, my friend,' Icelin said coldly. 'Brant is dead. I assume you heard that too. He died in my arms.'
'I'm sorry, Icelin. Who did it?'
'You'll recognize the name. Cerest Elenithil.'
Kersh started. 'The one who wants you brought in?'
