Mistshore (Greenwood Presents Waterdeep) by Jaleigh Johnson

Author:Jaleigh Johnson [Johnson, Jaleigh]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780786956357
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2009-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

Watchman Tarvin surveyed the vibrant embers and ash clouds of the Hearth fire with one hand raised to shield his eyes against the wall of heat. It reminded him briefly of the burned warehouse he’d seen on the shore—or the smoking skeleton of a boardinghouse.

The metal basin from which the Hearth flames ascended had steep sides, but the bottom of the structure sat several feet below the walkway, allowing easy access.

The setup was ingeniously designed and protected the surrounding structures from damage quite well. The basin’s inner shell had long ago turned an oily black color. The smells of cooking fish, meat, and the occasional spice were everywhere, but did nothing to mitigate the nauseating odor of the bodies gathered around the fire for warmth or sustenance.

There were no benches near the outside of the basin. People sat on the crude walkways built around the pit, cradling children in their laps or leading the elderly by the arm.

A pack of young girls, the youngest no more than five years old, was selling cooking spits for a copper a foot. Tarvin bought two from one of the older girls and shooed the rest away.

He leaned close to the child’s ear when he paid her and asked in a confidential whisper if she’d seen a particular young woman walking by the Hearth.

“Black hair, white skin like a ghost’s,” he said, and he saw the girl’s eyes widen. “Not a real ghost,” he said quickly. “There’s a man with her—tall, with red hair all over his head. Have you seen anyone like that passing this way?”

The girl shook her head. Tarvin gave her the copper coins and sent her off. He scanned the crowd a second time, his eyes coming to rest on a woman sitting alone near the edge of the fire. She was wrapped in a thin, dirty cloak, trying to blend in with the crowd.

In need of some amusement, Tarvin crouched next to the woman. He smiled when she averted her face. She had straight, drab brown hair and a tiny hooked scar on the bridge of her nose.

“Can I buy you dinner, pretty lass?” He held up his newly acquired spits, twirling them like batons.

The woman looked at him, but she didn’t smile. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “This is my territory.”

“Lovely Deelia, I’d never infringe on your authority. I was just doing some independent scouting,” Tarvin said. He made a vague gesture to the outer rim wreckages.

“You’d better hope she’s not out there,” Deelia said. “That’s gang territory.”

“Yes, it would be a shame if they dragged her off, had their fun, and didn’t leave any pieces for us to find,” Tarvin drawled.

Deelia shot him a look, but she didn’t comment. Tarvin knew she didn’t want to be out here anymore than he did. But the Warden had spoken, and the Watch had answered the Wolfhound’s call. Icelin Tearn would be found and hauled in from Mistshore on the end of a leash if need be.

“Foolish to come down here,” Deelia said.

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