Icelin thought at first he was jesting. “You’re mad,” she told Ruen. “I’m not giving myself up to the Watch. I’d rather spend my life in Mistshore.” Bellaril regarded her as if she’d just asked what colot the sky was on clear days. “You’re just as daft as he is, if you mean that,” she said. “She’s only a child,” Ruen said, which made Icelin want to plant her fingernails in his eyes. “She doesn’t know what Waterdeep is.” “Then what is it?” Icelin said, forgetting to keep her voice down. “Open my eyes, Ruen Morleth, to more horrors. I don’t think I’ve had enough thus far.” “He doesn’t mean to hurt you, girl,” spoke a voice, and everyone except Ruen jumped. Hatsolm rubbed the sleep from his eyes and regarded them blearily from his curled-up pallet. There was a crust of dried blood at the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry,” Icelin said, ashamed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” “Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t sleeping anyway,” Hatsolm said.
