'How unfortunate for your cut-purses.' Morleth produced a folded bit of parchment from inside his vest. 'Send them to this location.'
Relvenar took the parchment but didn't look at it. 'What if they don't want to go? I'm not forcing any trouble in my establishment. If folk don't feel safe, they won't come back. I'll have to close down.'
'I have a difficult time imagining your clientele feeling 'safe' anywhere in Mistshore,' Morleth said. 'Don't worry. These two are lambs; they'll go wherever you tell them. They want to find me.' For a moment, Relvenar thought he read amusement in the man's features. Morleth turned, his worn boots making no sound on the platform.
He's almost too frail to be a proper thief, Relvenar thought. Light on his feet, but it's like he's a wisp. All bone, hair that's as fine as dark spider's silk… The lass was the same way. They both looked like brittle spiders, apt to break in a harsh wind.
'I wish the lass luck handling you,' Relvenar said, and bit his lip when Morleth paused. He looked back at Relvenar, holding his gaze until Relvenar shifted uncomfortably and looked away. When he looked back, Morleth was gone.
'Just like a spider,' Relvenar muttered, shivering in distaste.
Cerest paced the dark street behind his home. The night was slipping away. Where were they?
He had already entertained a visit from a Watch patrol, and endured a polite but firm summons issued by the little bitch in charge. He was to give testimony against Icelin Team, before the Watch commander of Waterdeep himself!
Cerest knew they could have nothing with which to charge him. His men had been careful. The trails he'd left pointed to Icelin as a thief and now a murderer.
But what if he was wrong? Cerest leaned against the wall of the alley, his hands tubbing reflexively over his scars. The puckered texture of the burns helped to focus him, to remind him of how far he'd come.
All he had to do was find Icelin. Once he had her, he could leave the city if necessary. Baldur's Gate was thriving and swelling with more folk by the day. He and Icelin could start over there, disappear into the crowded cityscape, and make their fortune.
Everything would be exactly as it was before. When Elgreth had been alive, Cerest had had bright hopes for his future prominence in Waterdeep. Elgreth and-his family were going to take him all the way to the circles of nobility. Even when he'd been scarred, Cerest hadn't been afraid of being shunned. He'd held onto the hope that Elgreth would save him… But then the man died, and all Cerest's dreams had died with him.
No. He wouldn't let it end tonight. He would find Icelin and make her understand the kind of man Elgreth was, and all that he owed Cerest. She would pay his debt, or he would kill her for raising his hopes all over again.
The crunch of booted feet broke the stillness. Cerest tilted his head to the right to hone in on the sound.
Ristlara strode out of the shadows, her golden hair caught up in a black scarf. Behind her stood four men of various heights, shapes, and degrees of armament.
'You're late,' Cerest said.
'How would you know, standing there so oblivious to all the night?' Ristlara sniffed. 'It's a wonder you're still alive, Cerest.' She nodded at the men. 'We had to move slowly, in smaller groups. We'll meet at a location I've designated, if you're prepared?'
'I am.' Cerest pulled up the hood of his cloak. 'You told them Mistshore?'
She glanced sidelong at him. 'Yes. Shenan will be there to meet us. Are you certain your information is accurate?'
'It is.' What coin Cerest hadn't spent on his garden, he'd used to garner information from one of the low ranks in the Watch. His pride wouldn't let him confess the amount to Ristlara. The Watch was notoriously hard to bribe. They acted swiftly and decisively to cull betrayers from their midst.
He hadn't been able to get Icelin's exact destination, but the thick-head he'd spoken to had been savvy enough to know that many eyes were turning closely to Mistshore this night. All that remained was for Ristlara and Shenan's muckrakers to find her out, wherever she was hiding.
'How many did you bring?' he asked Ristlara as they walked, slipping from shadow to shadow on the broad street.
'As many as you could afford,' Ristlara said. At Cerest's scowl, she added, 'With you, Greyas, Shenan, and I, we are twelve strong. I've divided everyone into groups of four. Our searches will be more effective that way, given the layout of Mistshore. All the 'muckrakers' are human, so Icelin will not see them coming this time.'
'Good,' Cerest said. He remembered poor Melias and felt a flare of regret. If they were to work together, Cerest would have to teach Icelin control and restraint. He'd done it before, when those that served him had first witnessed the extent of his scars. Icelin had already demonstrated she could look at him without seeing the marks. There would be plenty of time for her to learn what else pleased and displeased him.
CHAPTER 6
Icelin sat on the floor across from Sull, who nursed ale in a glass the length of his forearm. Working Ruen's dice between her fingers, Icelin said, 'I think we should join them.' She nodded to a pair of men throwing dice near the rear of the tent. A third man stood beside a painted board with chalk markings. The dice clattered off the board, with one man hurling curses at the numbers, while the other threw back more ale and collected the pile of coins on the floor.
The other tent patrons were more subdued, playing cards or huddling in circles with their own drinks. Lamplight glowed all over the room. Icelin's eyes were already watering from the smoke and the stench of so many unwashed bodies packed into the close quarters.
Sull eyed the dicers. 'How do you want to play this, lass?' 'Try the game, I suppose,' Icelin said. 'Might be we'll have to give them some coin before they'll help us.'
'Do you even know their game?' Sull asked skeptically. 'I've been watching,' Icelin said. She yielded to the smoke and closed her eyes. 'They roll pairs. Highest roller gets to buy points on the board-one copper per point, up to two.' She opened her eyes and pointed to the dice board, where the man running the game was putting up marks with a stubby piece of chalk. 'He can use those points to add or subtract from his next roll. Lowest roller that round picks a target number. They both roll again. The closest person to that number wins the pot. But if the winner isn't the man with the points, the low roller gets the pot plus all the copper his opponent spent on points to the runner- the man at the board. Side bets could be-*
Sull thunked his glass on the floor. 'You could tell all that from across the room?'
'I memorized the numbers being rolled,' Icelin said. 'The rest was just putting together the rules of the game.'
'They've been rollin' since we came in. How many numbers did you memorize?'
'All of them.'
Sull nodded slowly. 'Is this somethin' you do often, breakin' down dice games for your own amusement?'
'Not if I can help it,' Icelin said. The numbers were already crowding her head, putting a dull ache at her temples. She rubbed them absendy. 'The problem is that I memorize everything I see and hear. I can't not.'
Sull raised an eyebrow. 'How long have you had this gift?'
A gift. That's what everyone called it. Icelin was long past being amused by the notion. 'Almost ten years now.'
It had also been ten years since the headaches started. The blinding, heavy pain came whenever she was in a crowd, or had too many facts vying for space in her head. Schooling had been a chore. Brant had taken on the task of teaching her himself, but they'd had to move slowly. She was quick and eager to learn, but there was only so much information she could be exposed to in a day, before the load threatened to overwhelm her.
Not until she started studying the Art did she discover how to bind away the information in her mind. Ndzun, her teacher, had shown her how, and had saved her going mad from the constant headaches.
It turned out storing information was no different than storing a spell once you'd memorized it from a book. Icelin had simply set aside a specific place in her mind for the facts to rest until they were needed.
'Picture your mind as a vast library,' Nelzun had described it at the time.
