It bobbed faintly-a lantern, she saw as she approached-on the end of a long, bending pole attached to a raft. There were no other boats so far out in the harbor.
When she got close, Icelin heard voices. Two shapes stood out in the weaving lantern light. She could not make out their features, but the profile of the nearer one was short and rotund, his head hairless. The othet held a fishing pole as tall as his body. He was very nearly as slender as the pole. Icelin also noted that the man either had a very misshapen head, or was wearing a floppy hat.
Icelin stopped rowing. She lifted her oars carefully out of the water and listened to the voices.
"I'm a clever man, Ruen. You could do worse."
The tall man cast his line into the harbor and answered, dryly, "Oh, I'm aware of it. I could tread the catwalks of Mistshore with a viper around my neck. Come to think of it, the snake might not be so bad, if I walk lightly. No, I don't think I need a partner, Garlon, especially one who sells his own brother to the Watch."
"How did you know about that?" The other man's voice squeaked like a guilty child's. "That was family business, got nothing to do with you and me. Come on, Ruen, you know you can't go it alone forever. You already got caught once. Admit it, you need a man to front you. You're too well known in Waterdeep."
"This isn't Waterdeep. This is Mistshore. We're dancing on the city's bones out here. Leave, Garlon, before I decide you'd make a pretty skeleton."
"But, I rode out here with you. You have to take me back to shore!" The man whined so loudly Icelin's eats ached.
"Yes, but you see, the fish are biting now. And if I move, I'll lose my spot."
"There's no one out here but us!"
"Are you sure about that?"
Icelin stiffened. She waited, crouched low in the boat, but no one called her out. Ruen must have been jesting.
"I was trying to do you a favor," Garlon said. "Word is you've still got a pretty pot of that treasure you stole from Darzmine Hawlace sitting around. I could move it for you. I know people."
"Ah, now we come to the true reason you're soiling my raft with your boots," Ruen said. "What makes you think I didn't dump the lot?"
Garlon scoffed. "You enjoy giving presents to whores and dealing with piss pushers like Relvenar, but you're not stupid. You kept some treasure back for yourself. All I want is a little piece."
"No."
Garlon spat on Ruen's boots. "To the Hells with you then." He strode to the opposite end of the raft. He paused at the edge. Icelin could feel him weighing his dignity against jumping into the fetid water. She felt a pang of sympathy, but it disappeared when she saw Garlon reach for something at his belt. He slid a dagger noiselessly from its sheath. Her heart sped up.
"What say you, Ruen? Last chance. Row us back to shore, and I'll buy you a drink while we discuss our partnership."
"Turn around," Icelin said, but no sound came out of her dry mouth. Her eyes bored into Ruen's back, willing him to turn and look at Garlon.
"Do you mind keeping quiet, Garlon?" Ruen said. He twitched his pole in the water. "You're scaring the fish."
"Course, Ruen," Garlon said, his voice dropping. "Not a squeak." He snapped his arm back, and forward, so fast Icelin couldn't see exactly when the blade left his hand.
"Watch out!" she screamed.
Ruen pivoted, his slender shadow seeming not to move at all. He dropped his pole and tore the spinning dagger out of the air. Flipping the blade to his other hand, he hurled it back at its owner.
Distracted by her scream, the fat man spun toward Icelin as if he'd been jerked by a string. His eyes widened when the dagger stuck in his chest. For a breath he swayed in time with the lapping water. Then he reached up, clutching his own weapon hilt. Icelin turned her head away from his staring eyes.
Silence, and then Icelin heard an umph followed by a loud splash. She looked back. The spray of water caught the moonlight and fell back into the harbor, which had swallowed up the fat man.
When the noise died, the scene returned quickly to normal. The moonlight settled onto the gently rippling water. From a shocked distance, Icelin saw Ruen pick up his pole and sit at the edge of the raft, his back to her. He cast the line into the water.
Numbly, Icelin picked up her oars. She considered rowing back to shore. Maybe he hadn't heard her shout; or maybe he didn't care that she'd just seen him kill a man, albeit in self-defense. Icelin gripped the oars. She forced herself to move the boat forward.
He came into focus at the opposite end of the raft, sitting cross-legged and dangling the pole near the water. He looked something like Sull in that pose, his shoulders hunched, trying to remain oblivious to the world around him.
Icelin rowed her boat up to kiss the raft, but Ruen never stirred. She wasn't brave enough to step aboard, but she had to get his attention somehow.
Icelin took the dice out of her pouch and tossed them onto the raft. They skittered across the wood, bounced off Ruen's back and came up double bosoms.
"Yours, I believe," Icelin said.
CHAPTER 7
For a long time, Ruen didn't move. Icelin thought he must not have heard her. But eventually he turned, and his profile caught the lantern light.
He looked to be in his early thirties. His hat, which appeared much older, was as ugly a thing as Kersh had claimed: brown leather and so creased the edges of the brim were flaking off.
Beneath the hat his black clad body looked like a scarecrow, so slender Icelin thought he must be half-starved. His cheekbones were two carved, triangular hollows; intermittent beard stubble graced the contours of his jaw.
A scarecrow, Icelin thought, except for his eyes. His eyes were red-brown, their deep centers forming pools of muddy crimson when they should have been black. Either his eyes were a defect of his birth, or else…
Icelin had heard stories of such oddities from the children in Blacklock Alley, back when she was only a child herself. The boys talked in menacing whispers about the plague-touched, the spellscarred-men and women who'd been brushed by the deadly fingers of spellplague. Most died from the exposure, but a few managed to survive its curse. They were never the same.
Some emerged deformed, their bodies twisted into hideous shapes by wild magic. Others bore their scars in less obvious places, but developed strange new abilities: powers of the mind, magic that even the wisest wizards on Faerun had never seen. It was said that a strange blue radiance often accompanied such displays of power, but Icelin had always thought these were fanciful stories that bore little truth.
Somehow, looking at him, Icelin knew Ruen Morleth was spellscarred. She remembered Kersh's warning about the man being strange.
"You know, it's impolite to eavesdrop on strangers' conversations," Ruen said, speaking for the first time. He picked up the dice and looked at them. "Stealing is generally frowned upon, as well. These aren't yours," he said.
"I didn't steal them," Icelin replied. "They were given to me by a friend. He told me you could help me."
His eyes traveled up and down her body. Icelin worked hard not to flinch under the gaze. "You look capable enough. Why should you need my help?"
"I'm being followed by someone who wishes my death."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think that's a compelling argument to me?"
"It sounds a bit dramatic, I know, but it's been a fine motivator for me," Icelin said. "I'm in no rush to die." "Death is a common occurrence in Mistshore." "So I see."
Ruen removed his pole from the water and laid it on the raft. "On the other hand, if you knew a likely fishing spot, you'd catch my interest. What's your name?"
"Icelin," she said. She held out a hand, but he showed no interest in taking it.
"Where did you get these dice?" he asked.
"From Kersh. I believe you two knew each other while you were… er-"
"Imprisoned. You can say it, I'm proud of the distinction." Ruen stood up. At his full height, he was well over six feet, which only accentuated his odd slenderness. "
I remember Kersh. He retrieved my hat for me. Quite a service, under the circumstances."
"You gave him your word you'd repay him," Icelin said.
"I did. But I don't see him hiding behind your skirt. My debt is to him. I owe nothing to you."
Ruen removed a dirt-speckled rag from his belt and began cleaning his pole. Leather gloves stretched taut over his long-fingered hands. He seemed content to ignore her.
Icelin was at a loss. Of all the things she'd expected from the man, blunt refusal had not been among them. But why shouldn't she have foreseen this? Kersh tried to warn her. Sull tried to warn her. The man was a thief. She'd had no reason to believe he'd be honorable in any dealings with her.
But Kersh s story… the man's gratitude at being treated kindly, the quill he'd given to Fannie-he could have sold it for a handsome profit, yet he'd made the powerful magic item a gift to a prostitute so she could draw pictures in the sand. None of what she'd heard equated to the aloof man before her.
"I'll pay you for your services," she said finally.
Ruen glanced up at her. "You don't look as if you have anything I need, or enough of the coin I'd demand."
"I have this." Icelin took the cameo from her neck pouch and tossed it to him.
Ruen caught it and held the piece up to the lantern. His muddy crimson eyes mingled with the gold light. "You steal this?"
"Does it matter?"
"No. What do you want for it?"
"I need a hiding place, for myself and a friend. We're being pursued by the Watch as well."
Ruen cocked his head. "Why all the interest?"
"Let's just pretend I'm a criminal," she said with a half-smile. "A notorious, irredeemable scoundrel. Would that be near enough to your understanding?"
"Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Irredeemable?"
Icelin's humor evaporated. "Probably," she said. "Will you help me anyway, in exchange for the jewel?"
Ruen put the pole away and walked to the edge of the raft. He cocked a boot on the bow of her boat and looked down at her. There was no discernible expression on his face. It made his eyes so much more disturbing. They were distant and menacing at the same time. Icelin suppressed the urge to put an oar between them.
"I'll hide you for one day," Ruen said. "After that we renegotiate the price or go our separate ways."
"One day-that piece is worth at least ten!" Icelin said.
"Then find someone who'll keep you from the eyes of the Watch for a tenday," Ruen said. "I'm sure there are lads everywhere in Mistshore hopping eager to take on the job. I don't mind at all dispensing the honor to them."
Icelin ground the oars against their. moorings. "I have your marker! You're honor bound to help me, with or without payment."
Ruen smiled. "You're very passionate, my lady. Hold to that. It'll take you far in the world."
Icelin contemplated bludgeoning the man with an oar, just to wipe the mocking grin off his face, but she decided against it. She had one night; it was best not to waste it. "Fine. We have an agreement." She snatched the cameo back and put it in her neck pouch. "You'll get the payment after my night's over."
He tipped his ugly hat. "Whatever you say, lady."
So it was done. Icelin was going to ask if he'd like to follow her back to shote, when below them, the light she and Sull had glimpsed earlier reappeared, gliding across the water like a fresh oil slick. Icelin lost her train of thought watching it. The humanlike apparition drifted past them and out into the harbor, moving fast. Several breaths later it illuminated a large, misshapen structure Icelin had not known was there.
It was difficult to make out many details in the dark, but by the apparition's light it was the strangest shipwreck Icelin had ever seen. The vessel had been boosted straight up on its bow, the length of it seeming to dance upon the air. Something, an even larger structure, was propping it up in that odd position, like two lovers embracing on the lip of the sea.
The apparition floated right up to the mass and joined with it, illuminating the whole before evaporating into darkness.
"What was that?" Icelin said, stunned.
Ruen looked out into the darkness. "The Ferryman's Waltz," he said. He looked at her askance. "You've never heard of it?"
Icelin searched her memory. Ferryman sounded vaguely familiar, an echo from her childhood. Her mind cycled back, peeling away the layers of invisible brick she'd used to close off the memories, until she could visualize ships: dozens of cogs, rakers, and greatships lined up in the harbor. Brant had taken her to see them; they'd gone for a ride on one. Icelin remembered the greatship was so large she could barely make out the fish leaping along the keel.
"Ferryman? she said. "It was a ship, a converted passenger carrier. A merchant of Waterdeep built it to hire out for pleasure-sailing, a way to say 'look at what a big toy I have.' She recited her great-uncle's words exactly. It brought a profound ache to her chest. She could picture his eyes sparkling as he told her the story. Quickly, she raised the mental wall again. "I never knew what became of the ship."
"Destroyed, in a tangle with a leviathan," Ruen said.
Icelin's eyes widened. "A sea monster, invading Waterdeep harbor?" It sounded too mythical to be real. "I thought we were supposed to be protected here, shielded from attacks of the Art and-"
"You mean spellplague," Ruen said. "Maybe that's so. But who's protecting Waterdeep from those scarred by the plague? No keeping them out. Even those that get dumped in places like Mistshore can cause their share of trouble." He nodded toward the Ferryman's Waltz. "Locked together in a lover's waltz. Poetic, don't you think?"
"You mean a wizard did this?" Icelin said. "To summon this creature… He'd have to be mad."
Ruen lifted a shoulder. "Perhaps it's just a story. Whether it's true or not, something draws the sea wraiths out to the wreckage. There's wild magic there. That's why they glow as they do. Ordinarily, you'd never be able to see them in the water. I'd bet any amount of coin the plague still thrives at Ferryman's Waltz, and the wraiths are drawn to it like moths."
"Sea wraiths," Icelin said. So the Waltz was the source of the strange apparitions. "None of this feels real." Her gaze swept the Waltz and Mistshore: Whalebone Court and the Dusk and Dawn's red tent, the Hearth fire and all of the other structures. They blurred together in the darkness just beyond her sight. She caught Ruen looking at her. "What?"
He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You're just a child," he said. "You don't know Waterdeep at all. What are you doing out here?"
"Conversing with thieves"-Icelin spread her hands- "fearing for my life and virtue, all of that."
"Why should you fear for your virtue?"
"Oh, I'm not afraid of you taking it," she said. "I don't trust myself. I'm afraid I'll have to offer it up to every lad in Mistshore to get them to help me after your contract runs out. This night was expensive enough. I shudder to think what the price will be day after tomorrow."
"So you're not afraid of me?" Ruen said.
"You mean because of Garlon?" She squared her shoulders. "I think he had his fate coming to him."
"That's bold," Ruen said. He tilted his hat to see her better. "Considering how pale you were when you rowed up to my raft, I would have thought you were a terrified mouse."
Icelin swallowed. "I've had fresh perspectives on terror tonight. Nothing you can do will frighten me."
"Truly?" He moved so fast the next breaths were a blur.
His hands encased both of her wrists. He hauled her out of the boat, onto her back on the raft. The hard planks knocked the breath out of her. He forced her hands above her head and half-straddled her.
"What about now?" Ruen said. He'd moved like a demon, yet he wasn't even breathing hard. His crimson eyes were so close they filled her vision. He didn't wait for a reply. He put his head on her chest.
Icelin bit back a whimper, but he made no other move to touch her.
"I hear your heartbeat,
" he said, lifting his head. "It's a wild bird." He smiled. "Are you certain you aren't scared?"
He knew she was terrified, and Icelin hated him for that. She could do nothing about the wild hammering in her chest, so instead, Icelin forced her rigid body to relax, one muscle at a time. It was the hardest work she'd ever done. "You know," she said, pleased that her voice did not shake, "if it's my virtue you're after, I should confess Igave it away a long time ago."
"How unfortunate," Ruen said. "Who was the lucky lad? Another thief?"
"A stable boy, actually. We did it behind the chimneystacks on the roof of my great-uncle's shop. He was two years older than me."
"Was he handsome?"
"Not really, but more so than you. We were outside all night, and I took sick the next morning. These are much lovelier conditions." She met his gaze, forcing a look of bored expectation. "Well? Are you going to do this or not?"
"You've got hard nerves, lady," Ruen said, "but you don't know this world. If I was any other man you'd be raped and robbed and bobbing in the harbor by now."
Icelin felt annoyance flare above her fear. "You're right, I don't know much about the world. In the last five years, I've rarely been out of my great-uncle's shop. I would love nothing more than to be there right now, but my great-uncle is murdered, and that shop is a tomb. Everything I once trusted is gone. I tell you truly, I have no one left to put my faith in, except a criminal. The irony of this could fuel many comic ballads, I'm sure. I may be naive to you, but I have a sharp tongue and more than half a wit and if you can keep me alive long enough, I will find a way to pay you for the services you render me, if it takes all the blood in my body to do it."
They gazed at each other, their faces inches apart. Something like admiration passed over Ruen's face. He started to speak, but suddenly his face was illuminated by a brilliant, arcane light.
Icelin looked down, and saw the source coming from the space of water between the boat and the raft. A second apparition glowed from the water, but this one shone clearer, and its form melded into a twisted mockery of a human face-
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