Icelin's mouth fell open in shocked amazement.
She'd expected to enter another cramped cabin, but instead she beheld a tunnel through the seawater. It extended eight feet above their heads, reinforced by another magical shield. Water beaded and dripped on their heads in a steady drizzle. The air reeked of salt.
"They drain the water periodically," Ruen said, "so it doesn't flood the passage."
"Don't look sturdy to me," Sull said.
"It isn't." Icelin pointed to the stutters in the shield. The sensation of walking on water unnerved her. She kept her eyes off her feet. "Was the shield here before the Spellplague?" she asked.
"Yes," Ruen said. "The enchantments held. Most people who come to the Cradle come from Mistshore, walking above water. Only the lucky souls who can't afford to be seen entering the Cradle use this entrance now."
"Who?" Icelin asked.
Ruen shrugged. "Maybe a young noble. He wants a night of fun but doesn't want his face known in Mistshore. Long as he doesn't mind a swim, this is the way he comes."
The tunnel began a gradual, upward slope. At the end loomed another water wall.
Ruen passed through the opening first. Icelin followed, with Sull bringing up the rear.
Behind the wall Icelin could tell they were in the belly of another ship. The hull had been reinforced several times over. No visible magic greeted them beyond the water wall. A ladder led up to the main deck, and Icelin could see a square of dull sunlight above. The breeze blowing down the ladder was cool and smelled strongly of rain. She couldn't see anything beyond the opening, but she heard muffled voices.
She turned around and noticed for the first time the pair of guards standing on their side of the wall. One of them, a young man not much older than Icelin, stepped forward to speak to Ruen.
"Arowall sends his greetings, Ruen Morleth, and I bear a message. If you wish his protection, the cost will be the same as when last you came here. Can I tell him you will fight in the Cradle?"
"Yes," Ruen said.
"No, he won't," Icelin interrupted. "Ruen, what is this? We're not here to fight. You told us you were taking us someplace safe."
"Safety comes with a ptice," Ruen said. "Haven't you learned that yet? Fighting is Atowall's business. So if we want to stay here, that's what we do. Tell your master that I'm in," he told the guard. "Expect his champion to fall tonight."
"Bold words," the guard said. His face split in an involuntary grin. "Bells has no equal this past tenday."
"Bells?" Sull said. He snorted. "The champion is called Bells?"
"Death knells, that's why," said the guard. "They nicknamed her after she sent that poor bastard Tarodall into the pool. She hates it, but everyone likes a good nickname, you know."
"We need time to test," Ruen said.
"Arowall says if you're committed to fighting, you can stay here in safety for the day," said the guard. "Fight's tonight, after gateclose."
"Give him my gratitude," Ruen said. The guard nodded and climbed the ladder. His partner followed, leaving them alone in the cabin, which reeked of mildew and the general stink of the harbor. Icelin found she was growing used to the smell. She wrinkled her nose. Likely because she was soaked in it, she thought.
"You've been here before?" Icelin asked Ruen when they'd arranged themselves on the floor near the back of the cabin.
"I only come here when I need protection," Ruen said, "when I'm desperate enough. We're safe here for the day. You should both sleep." He looked at Icelin. "We'll need whatever spells you can muster if things don't go well tonight. I see no way Cerest could track us here, but I want to be prepared."
"You said one night, and then we'd renegotiate the price for your aid," Icelin said. "The cameo can't possibly cover all you're doing for us."
Ruen laughed. "That, my lady, is the most profound understatement I've yet heard you make."
Icelin bristled. "You don't need to throw it in my face. In fairness to me, I hardly expected to be menaced by the undead, ambushed by a dozen men, interrogated by an insane elf who knows more about my life than I do, which, considering my powers of recollection, is distressing in the extreme. Then you drag me underwater, half drown me, and where do we end up? Back in Mistshore, in the teeth of gods alone knows what type of men, with onfy a warm place to sleep as consolation." Her brow furrowed. "Come to think of it, that's not terribly awful under the circumstances."
"You talk a lot," Ruen said.
"Only when I'm under immediate threat," Icelin said. "Keeps me calm."
Ruen nodded politely-a ludicrous gesture, considering his previous attitude toward her. And he was letting the subject of his payment drop like it was nothing of concern.
"Why are you doing this?" she demanded. "In case you hadn't guessed, I have no idea where this little adventure is taking us. You'd be wise to get as far away from me as you can. I don't have any coin to pay you, now or later. The Watch will have secured all my great-uncle's possessions. We didn't have a great deal to start with. I have nothing to offer you at the end of this long tunnel."
There, she'd admitted it. He would abandon them now, Icelin was sure, but at least she'd offered him truth. She heard Sull, already snoring softly in the opposite corner. Gods, she hoped she could keep him safe. She would give anything if he would abandon her to her fate too.
Ruen looked at her for a long breath. Icelin couldn't guess what he was thinking. The man had no range of expressions she could measure. He wasn't cold, exactly. Removed, was more like it. His eyes curtained his emotions.
Ruen reached into her pack and pulled out the gold box. The feathery designs caught the dim light from above and sparkled.
"You can give me that," he said. "Keep the letters."
Icelin considered. "What about your friend's protection?" she asked.
Ruen's eyes hardened. "Arowall is not a friend. He won't give us aid unless I fight in the Cradle. You heard the guard. His champion's been on a streak for a tenday; his crowd will be getting restless for new blood. No matter how much they may like Bells, they love an upset even more."
"So if you beat his champion, you help his business," Icelin said. She was beginning to understand the stakes. "You have to win his aid, not buy it."
"Yes. If I can win, we can negotiate with Arowall to hide us all, maybe for days."
"Then… we are agreed?" Icelin could hardly believe it. "You'll stay with us?"
He kept his eyes on the box. "I'll stay with you."
"You have my deepest thanks," Icelin said.
Ruen slid the box away into her pack. "Keep it hidden for now. And don't thank me. We made a bargain, and I'll keep it."
And with that, he was removed again, aloof. For those few breaths, he'd seemed like a normal man. Now he was the scarecrow-a blank face and a floppy hat, which he seemed always to hold onto, no matter how many times they'd been dunked in the harbor.
Icelin leaned back against the hull. With her immediate concern assuaged, she could feel her body relax. The frightened energy that had kept her moving was beginning to ebb, and she could feel the effects of the wild magic on her body.
To say that she was more exhausted than she'd ever been in her life would be a vast understatement of what was happening inside her. She felt like a child coming around from a long illness-or descending into one.
Every time she cast a spell, her energy returned more slowly. She'd never felt that strain before, not during her most arduous lessons with her teacher. What would the implications be if she was forced to cast more spells?
Ruen was right. She needed sleep to recover as much strength as she could. Her eyes burned, but she couldn't drift off. Restless questions flitted through her mind: Cerest, Ruen, the letters, her family. She couldn't settle on which mystery baffled her most. To distract herself, she picked the easiest.