'The same,' Icelin said. 'Obviously, he has a grudge against me that demands attention. Setting the Watch on my trail was an expedient way to corner me. I need a place to hide from him, somewhere the Watch won't readily find me.'
'Unless you're sitting with the gods, there's no such place,' Kersh said. 'All the patrols have been alerted, and if that wasn't enough…' He didn't know how to say it.
She did it for him. 'They all remember Icelin Team. I have no illusions about my reputation among your fellows.'
'Told you we should have made a run for it.' The big man spoke up for the first time.
'Who's that?' Kersh wanted to know.
'Sull's my butcher,' Icelin said, elbowing the big man into silence. 'There must be somewhere we can go, Kersh.'
Kersh hesitated. 'You could come in with me.'
'Hah.'
'I'd speak for you,' Kersh insisted. 'My word doesn't carry as much weight as a swordcaptain's, but I know your character.'
'The Watch has no desire to help me,' Icelin said. 'And I will not sit idly in a dungeon cell, waiting for them to deliberate my fate, while Brant's murderer plots my demise.'
She stopped speaking. Kersh heard a soft sob, then silence. He waited for her to gather herself. He had never seen her fall apart before, not in all the years he'd known her.
'Kersh?' Her voice sounded strained.
'I'm here.'
'What if-I know this will sound like lunacy-I could find a guide, someone who knows the city well and could hide me for the time being? Just until I figure out what to do about Cerest.' Her voice grew stronger. 'There is one person I can think of who would be perfect for the job.'
It took Kersh a moment to realize where she was leading him. 'Absolutely not!' he hissed. 'You're right. You're talking lunacy.'
'Who are we talking about?' the butcher wanted to know.
'Kersh used to work a night watch in the dungeons,' Icelin said. 'He told me a story once after several goblets of wine of a famous rogue he made the acquaintance of. A man named Ruen Morleth.'
'He's nothing special, except he stole a fortune in paintings from a noble in North Ward, a great collector of odd and obscure art,' Kersh said. 'Brought the largest bounty on his head I've ever seen offered in the city.'
'So he was caught?' Sull said. 'Doesn't sound like a very good thief to me.'
'Exactly. And he'd been imprisoned for some years,' Kersh said. It was a stupid story. He couldn't believe he was reciting it now. 'He asked me to get his hat back from some guards who were dicing over the thing.' Of course Icelin would remember the whole tale perfectly, damn her. 'I don't know why he bothered. It was the ugliest hat I'd ever seen.'
'Kersh said the rogue offered to tell him a secret if he got his hat back,' Icelin added. 'So Kersh, being the curious thickhead that he is, set out to win the hat back from the guards. Fortunately, our Kersh has a good hand at dice. Tell him how grateful the rogue was, Kersh.'
'I gave him back his hat, and he informed me very solemnly that he believed the secret of my parentage involved a tavern wench and several barnyard animals, — and did I want to hear more?'
'Sounds like a lovely fellow,' Sull snorted. 'But you can't blame him for being angry over losing his hat.'
'Oh, but you see, Kersh didn't tell the rogue that to get his precious hat back, Kersh had to gamble away half his wage for all the month of Ches,' Icelin said. 'The rogue got wind of it though, and this is the important part. Go on, Kersh. Tell him what Morleth said.'
Kersh sighed. 'He apologized, told me that he appreciated my looking after his hat, and said that if I ever needed a favor in return, I should go to Mistshore.'
'Mistshore?' the butcher echoed incredulously. 'That's the worst section of the city. He wanted to send you to Waterdeep's bowels to reclaim a favor?'
'At the Dusk and Dawn Inn,' Kersh said. 'I was to inquire at the dicing rounds.'
'Those were his exact words,' Icelin said.
'You would know.' Kersh rolled his eyes.
'Except it's bollocks and cream,' said the butcher. 'Even if you were to brave the joutney to the harbor, how's this thief goin' to be any help to anyone when he's locked in a cage?'
'He's not in a cage,' Icelin said. Kersh glanced down and saw her leaning against the slime-clad piling, looking like a smug queen surveying her holdings. 'He escaped not six nights after he got his hat back. He's the only man who has ever escaped from Waterdeep's dungeons.'
'You think because he offered me a favor he'll help you hide from the Watch?' Ketsh shook his head.
'And the elf,' Icelin reminded him. 'All I need is permission to call in your marker.'
'Icelin, he's dangerous-dangerous and strange. You don't want to get tangled up with someone you can't trust, not when I'm here to-' he stopped, cursing under his breath.
'I would trust you with my life,' Icelin said softly. 'But folk have been turning up dead around me today, and I don't want you joining them.'
'Then what's the butcher doing here?' Kersh asked, a little sullenly.
'Noisome baggage, but I can't shake him,' Icelin said. 'Please, Kersh. Give me your marker and let me be gone.'
Reluctantly, Kersh reached into his coin-purse and pulled out a pair of cracked dice. They fit comfortably in his hand, clicking softly together. It had been years since he'd examined them, but for some reason he always carried them close. He handed them down to Icelin's cold fingers.
'Thank you,' she said.
The butcher leaned in to look. 'Are those bosoms where the sixes should be?'
'They are,' Kersh said. 'He handed them to me, clasped my left hand between both of his for a breath, then he nodded, like he was satisfied with a shift in the weather. He said, 'enjoy a long life, friend,' and smiled like he was having some jest. But
I could have sworn, by any god you'd care to name, that he was serious-relieved, almost. That part of the story I never told to anyone, not even you, Icelin.'
Kersh went about his patrol as usual that night. When he was finished, he headed back to the barracks to report to the rordan on duty.
Icelin was his friend. He would lay down his life for her, and he would not sit idle while she wandered the most dangerous paths of Waterdeep.
Mistshore was a product of neglect more than anything else, but it had grown into a rotting infection on the back of an already struggling city. Waterdeep's harbor had become a steadily growing source of pollution and despair over the last century. The water had turned murky brown, and the breeze that blew off the harbor was rank with filth.
Ships had been scuttled haphazardly on the north shore of the old Naval Harbor; their owners were dead, gone, or content to leave them to the poisonous waters. One atop another, they'd gradually stretched wooden talons out into the brown harbor, forming their own private continent. The landscape on this strange plain could shift dramatically from day to day, with old wreckages dropping off into the depths and fresh tangles being added to the pile.
No one knew who it was that first discovered you could live on the floating, twisted wreckage-if living was what it could be called-but since then the newly christened Mistshore had become a beaching ground for wreckage of a different sort: the poorest, most desperate folk of Waterdeep.
Mistshore had earned such a dark reputation that the Watch patrols rarely visited the place. Their efforts to restore order on the battered harbor had earned them several slain officers and grief from the rest of the city, who preferred that Mistshore be left to its own devices. Kersh thought it comforted them in some way to have all the worst elements in the city confined to one area. As long as the violence didn't bleed over into the other wards, the people were content.
But Icelin was striding right into the center of the chaos. Worse, Kersh had sent her there.
Kersh entered a low-ceilinged building that housed the Watch garrison. Passing through with a wave to
