Jaleigh Johnson - Mistshore

There was much evidence that Cerest was the child of an affair between Lady Elenithil and a rival family's eldest son. He was several decades her junior. Cerest's mother died soon after his birth under mysterious circumstances. Lord Elenithil was a prominent suspect, but nothing could be proven; so his reputation survived, while Cerest was publicly shunned as evidence of the fall of a noble lady of Myth Drannor.

Cerest took his education, but he leftMythrDrannor as soon as he came of age. I first met him in Baldur's Gate. He'd come to the city to establish himself as a merchant. He had a small portion of his mother's wealth to invest but no interest in the common trade in Baldur's Gate.

I was an adventurer at the time, wandering out from the city to the ruins of tombs and strongholds and floating motes fallen from the heavens. I made enough coin to survive by selling my findings, but I hadn't the resources or manpower to delve as deeply into Faerun's changed landscape as I desired. Then I met Cerest.

He purchased some of the pieces I brought back from the ruins. During the third such of these transactions, he confided that he had been in contact with a newly wedded couple who were interested in cataloging the artifacts to document the changes to Faerun and its magic, resulting from the spellplague.

Here at last was my chance. With Cerest and the young man and woman, I had an expert team to explore more of Faerun than I ever could hope to on my own. They would have their research, Cerest would have his profit, and my obsession for the unknown would be satisfied. It seemed the perfect arrangement, and we became quite close.

The young couple, Lisra and Edlend, were of course your parents. We were exploring a tomb in distant Aglarond when Lisra was four months heavy with you. We found a name scrawled on the wall, the only marking in the lonely ruins: Icelin. When you were born, Cerest named you after her. Lisra and Edlend named me your grandfather.

I wish I could tell you all the things your parents longed to give you, Icelin. It was their wish that you wouldfollow in their footsteps. I think Cerest wished this, as well-that we would all continue on together, one human generation replacing the last. We were the closest thing to family the elf had ever experienced in his life.

Considering all this, the happiness that we shared, I can't explain why Cerest brought it all crashing down. He lied to us, but you see, we had no reason not to trust him. He had always told us the truth, so we believed him when he swore it was safe. You must believe me, Icelin, you must! I would have given my life before I saw you or your parents hurt.

Icelin turned the page over, but there was no more writing. The letter simply ended.

"No," she said, her breath coming fast. "That can't be all." She went back over each page, thinking one had gotten out of order. When she didn't find another, she sorted through all the letters. Panic made her clumsy; the pages sailed out of her hands, blurring in a yellow haze as her vision swam. The world seemed to spin.

It was too much to take. Elgreth wasn't her grandfather. Brant wasn't her blood at all. She had always been alone in the world, she just hadn't known it. All because of Cerest.

"How," she said, her voice shrill. "How did it happen? Gods above, tell me!"

"Icelin."

She jumped, but it was only Sull. He looked like he hadn't slept at all. There were great red pouches under his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Bellaril was sitting up too. She rubbed her eyes with a fist. "What's all the noise?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Icelin said. She slid the letters away in her pack. "It can wait. I'm sorry I disturbed you all." She looked around. "Where's Ruen?"

She heard footsteps on the ladder. Ruen climbed down to them.

"I've been scouting," he said. "It's almost full dark. We can move around soon." He looked to Icelin. "If you're ready to leave?"

"I've read the letters," Icelin said, aware of Sull and Bellaril listening. "My grandfather, Elgreth, tried to warn me about Cerest. He knew he might come after me." She looked at Sull. "Brant must have known. Even if he'd never read the letters himself, he must have known about Cerest. Elgreth wouldn't have left his own brother ignorant of the danger."

"Of course he wouldn't," Sull said soothingly. "Your great-uncle probably thought, after so much time, the elf had given up lookin'. And what was the sense in frightenin' you if that was the case?"

He had given up, until I saved his life in the street, Icelin thought. The bitter irony of it made her dizzy. She remembered thinking, in the moment she'd pushed the elf to the ground, that she was doing something good-a small act of penance for all the harm she'd done. The gods had a cruel streak in them.

"Why's he so interested in you?" Bellaril asked. "Begging your pardon, but you don't seem worth all the men and coin he must be losing."

"I couldn't agree more," Icelin said. "I thought Cerest wanted revenge, but he said he wanted me for my abilities. He said Elgreth had a powerful spellscar; he thought I shared it. Why he would pursue someone with such unstable magic is beyond me, though Elgreth did allow that Cerest's interest lay heavily with magic."

Kredaron had said the same, that Cerest was fascinated by the Art. He'd thought, just as she had, that the elf s scars were a result of a brush with wild magic. If that was the case, Cerest should want nothing to do with her.

"Is there more?" Ruen asked.

"Yes," Icelin said. "This is the part where things get muddled. Cerest used to work with my parents and Elgreth. They adventured together. But for some reason, Cerest betrayed them."

"Why?" Ruen asked.

"I don't know. The letters end. They were either lost or sent incomplete to Brant. I'm sure Cerest would tell you the tale, the next time he catches up to us."

"Maybe it's time that happened."

It was Sull who had spoken. Icelin looked at him. "You can't be serious?"

"I am," Sull said. "That elf s used to huntin' us, drivin' us to ground. Let's turn the tables on 'im, see how he likes being chased."

"We're outnumbered," Ruen reminded him, "even with Bells."

The dwarf snorted. "I'm not afraid of an elf with a mashed-in lace."

"None of you are attacking Cerest on my behalf," Icelin said. "We're not discussing it."

"There's another option," Ruen said.

Icelin waited, but the monk didn't speak. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "This option involves throwing us headlong into more danger and strangeness, doesn't it?"

Sull threw up his hands. "I thought it didn't get any stranger than this!"

"I think it's time we go to the Watch," Ruen said.

Silence fell over the group. 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. He sat up slowly. Sull put his hand on the man's shoulders to steady him. "The problem is that when we're children we're only conscious of our own suffering."