enough, Icelin had a feeling he would betray them in a heartbeat.
'Sull,' she said.
The butcher slanted her a look, his mouth puffed up with bread. The sight made Icelin smile and twisted her heart at the same time.
'If Ruen succeeds tonight, I want you to leave us. I trust Ruen to take care of me, and I don't want you in anymore danger on my behalf.'
'Aw, don't go startin' that foolishness again.' Sull wiped the crumbs from his mouth with an angry swipe. 'Doesn't matter what that thiePs done, you need me looking out for you, unless'-he hesitated, his face reddening-'unless you think I'm slowin' you down.' He clenched his hands into fists. 'I know I'm not much good in a fight.'
'Sull, that's not what I-'
'I know it!' His face crumpled. He looked near tears. The sudden shift in mood caught Icelin completely off guard. 'I know you're worried about me gettin' hurt on your account. It isn't fair-me strappin' myself to you, makin' you worry. Selfish is what it is.'
'Selfish?' Icelin said incredulously. 'You've risked your life over and over for me. I'm the one who's selfish and no good in a fight. Without you, Sull, I'd be lost.' Icelin felt dangerously close to tears herself.
'But it isn't for you,' Sull said, his voice barely audible. He dropped his head in his hands.
Feeling helpless, Icelin scooted closer to the big man and put her arm around his shoulders. 'I don't understand,' she said. 'What do you mean, Sull? If not for me, why are you here?'
Sull sniffed loudly. He wiped his eyes but wouldn't look at her. 'I love my shop,' he said. 'Always wanted one of my own, ever since I was a lad.'
Guilt stabbed Icelin. 'I'll get you back to your shop. I promise.'
'No!' Sull roared. He jerked away from her as if he'd been stung. 'Serves me right if the place burns to the ground. Let me finish, lass, I beg you.'
Icelin nodded, staying silent.
'I love my shop,' he continued, each word a trial for him. 'In the eady days, all the folk knew me. Once I got established in the neighborhood, I helped others just startin' out. Wasn't anything to it, I just liked em and wanted 'em to have the same chance I got. So I gave meat to the baker and the blacksmith, kept em fed over two winters so they would have coin to spare for their wares. I spent the summer helpin' Orlan Detrent put a roof over his cow pen. Hot as the Nine Hells, it was, but we laughed over a pitcher of ale afterwards.'
'That's wonderful,' Icelin said. 'They were lucky to know you.'
Sull's eyes filled with fresh misery. 'Not so lucky. You put me too high in your heart, lass, and I don't deserve it. I made friends with a lot of folk, so when Darthol and his boys came to the neighborhood, they knew to come straight to me.'
'Darthol?' Icelin hadn't heard the name in years. Darthol Herendon had conducted a brief but lucrative extortion operation in Blacklock Alley and other parts of South Ward. Icelin remembered Brant had insisted on escorting her everywhere she went during DarthoFs brief 'reign.' Her great-uncle hadn't wanted her to cross paths with any of DarthoPs men, though Icelin suspected he'd paid a substantial amount to ensure her safety. Fortunately, they'd been spared any lasting strife. DarthoPs body had been found in a garbage heap one night. Folk thought he'd been stabbed to death by one of his own men.
'I didn't know you ever encountered him,' Icelin said. 'I'm sorry for it. That was a dark time for many of us.'
'Darker than you know,' Sull said. He wasn't crying now. He looked old and sad. 'I was cleanin' out the shop one night. I like to work late, when the streets are uncluttered, but I was being quiet so not to rouse folk. They didn't hear me at first.'
The words hurt him. Icelin squeezed his shoulder. 'You don't have to tell me,' she said.
But he went on. 'I had the big wooden washtub outside the back door, couple of candles lit so I could see. My cleavers were all in the tub, needin' a good scrub. I'd just picked up the rag'-he mimicked the gesture, lost in his tale-'when they came around the side of the shop, draggin' old Orlan by his bare feet.'
'Oh, Sull,' Icelin gasped.
'He wasn't dead,' Sull said, 'least not then. Face was covered in blood and sort of mashed in, but his eyes were open. He stared at me the whole time they were beatin' him, beggin' with his eyes for help. Somehow, I was stuck. I couldn't get my arms out of that washtub. I had my hand on a knife, gods forgive me, and I couldn't raise it up out of the water.' He looked at his shaking hands, seeing a weapon that wasn't there. 'I could have planted it in that son of a whore's back before his boys were ever the wiser. Worst of it was, Darthol knew I was there all the time. He beat poor Orlan to death in front of me. He knew I didn't have the guts to stop him.'
'You were frightened, and rightly so,' Icelin said. 'Even if you'd killed Darthol, his men would have slain you.'
'I wasn't afraid,' Sull said. 'Not for my life, anyway. All I could think was that they'd take my shop. Every thin' I'd worked for-I didn't want to lose it.' Finally, he looked at her, but his eyes were bleak, unfocused. 'The years haven't changed me any. You'd think they would have, but they haven't. I'm still selfish. When you came into my shop, and those elves were after you, I wasn't really aidin' you. I'm not so noble. All I could see was Orlan's bloody face, the whites of his eyes bulgin' out when he died. Whenever I look at you, I see him. You have to let me stay with you, Icelin. I know it's askin' too much. My burden's nothin' to do with you. But if I leave you, I'm never going to see anythin' but Orlan's face.'
He started to cry then in earnest. Icelin laid her head on his shoulder so he would not have to see her. They sat that way for a long time while the big man sobbed quiedy. Above them, the voices rose and fell, but that world seemed a thousand miles away from the cramped ship's hold.
Icelin reached for Sull's hand and found it waiting for her. 'Sull?'
'Yes, lass?' He sounded remote, drained.
'Please stay with me.' Her voice shook. 'I'm selfish too, and frightened. Will you stay with me, until it's all over?'
He sighed deeply. 'I'll stay. Thank you, Icelin.'
Icelin felt his big body relax slowly, the knotted muscles loosening. The misery was still there, but she could feel him burying it.
Jaleigh Johnson
Mistshore
When she lifted her head, Ruen was coming down the ladder. Their eyes met for a breath, and Icelin knew, though she could not read his crimson gaze, that he'd heard every word of Sull's confession. She nodded minutely. He mirrored the gesture.
'Thank you for the bread ' Icelin said. 'I assume you left it for us?'
Ruen nodded. 'I couldn't arrange a bath for you. Perhaps if I win the tournament. Something to hope for, eh?' He wrinkled his nose.
Icelin glowered at him, but Sull said, 'Tournament? You mean you have to fight more than once?'
'I'm a new entrant,' Ruen said. 'I'll have at least three matches before I get to fight Bellaril-Bells.' He picked up Icelin's cloak and pack. 'Keep these close,' he said, handing them to her. 'They're ready for us.'
No matter how intense her apprehension about the Cradle, Icelin was grateful to climb the ladder out of the oppressive ship's hold.
On the main deck, night had fallen. Stars canopied the harbor, and the remnants of the day's rain glimmered on the wet wood. Torches lined the deck, lending smoky illumination to a sight Icelin could not have imagined in her wildest fancies.
The Cradle perched on the water, bounded by a loose circle of four half-sunk ships. The vessels listed at various angles, half supporting each other, their masts crisscrossing in a vast web work of rigging and wood. Rope bridges hung suspended from the main masts, allowing foot traffic to flow between the four ships. Figures swarmed the bridges or climbed, monkeylike, on the rigging to find a better vantage point for the activity.
On each of the four ships, wooden benches were bolted in rows to the deck, creating a sort of graduated seating on the listing surfaces. These rough seats were already packed with people, and the unlucky few who couldn't find a bench were perched on the rails, their feet dangling above the water. All told, there must have been hundreds of people crowded on the ships.
