Diver grinned. “I’m grateful.” He hesitated before asking, “What did Sephira do to him?”
“To Tanner, you mean?”
Diver nodded.
“She had one of her toughs cut his throat.”
The blood drained from Diver’s face. “They killed him?”
“No. She didn’t want him dead,” he said, knowing as he spoke the words that it was true. “She wanted to distract me. She figured I would save him. And I did, though only just.” Ethan regarded his friend. “Do you still want to work with me?”
“Aye,” Diver said, though his hand shook as he lifted his ale.
He said something else, but Ethan didn’t hear what it was. A man had just entered the Dowser, one Ethan recognized, though at first he couldn’t remember from where. His face was sallow and thin, his cheekbones high. He had a wispy beard and mustache, and his wheaten hair, straight and shoulder-length, tied back in a plait, looked almost golden in the dim light of the tavern. He was slight and short, and dressed as he was in a brown coat and matching waistcoat, tan breeches and what appeared to be a silk shirt, he looked like a merchant. But the man also wore silver-rimmed spectacles, and it was these that struck Ethan as familiar. After a few seconds, he realized why. This was one of the men who had met with Tanner, and who Ethan had assumed traded in pilfered goods. Tanner had met the stranger in a tavern in the North End, and the two of them had spoken for nearly an hour. Ethan recalled thinking at the time that this fence had to be new to the city. He felt even more certain of this now. He had never seen him before that day in the North End.
The fence stood near the doorway, surveying the crowd in the tavern, his brow creased, his gaze flitting from face to face. For just an instant the man glanced directly at Ethan, his lenses catching the lamplight so that they appeared opaque. In the next moment he looked away, having given no indication that he had recognized him. As he surveyed the rest of the tavern, though, the stranger’s dark eyes widened in recognition. He didn’t move right away, continuing instead to survey the room. But Ethan could tell that this was merely for show.
At last he crossed to the bar and slid a coin onto the polished wood. Kelf handed the man an ale, but said nothing to him, and the stranger turned away without a word. Again he made a show of searching for a place to sit, but when he left the bar he walked directly to where whomever he had seen was seated.
Ethan followed the man with his eyes, hoping that he would also catch a glimpse of the stranger’s friend. This second person, though, was blocked from Ethan’s view by a wooden post. Ethan shifted his chair as subtly as he could, but to no avail.
“Are you even listening to me?” Diver asked, leaning forward to force himself into Ethan’s line of sight.
“No, I’m not. A man just walked in—don’t turn! I saw him with Tanner about a week ago.”
“What was he doing with Tanner?”
“Trying to buy watches, I think.”
“Do you think he came here looking for you?”
Ethan shook his head. “No, I’m not sure he ever saw me. But I want to see who he’s with.” He drained his ale and stood. “Stay here. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”
“All right,” Diver said.
Ethan walked to the bar, squeezing past a crowd of young wharfmen.
“I woulda brought you another ale,” Kelf told him, taking his tankard and refilling it.
“I know. Thank you. I wanted to stretch my legs a bit.”
The barman shrugged and handed him the ale.
Ethan took a sip and turned to lean back against the bar, doing his best to appear relaxed and uninterested. He could see the stranger now, though his back was to the room. Sitting across from him, his face shrouded in shadow, was a large man who looked very much like someone Sephira would hire for his brawn. Ethan didn’t recognize him. He had dark, straggly hair and a broad, homely face. His nose was crooked and a dark scar ran from the corner of his mouth to his chin, so that his face seemed to wear a perpetual scowl.
The two men sat hunched over the table, their heads close together. The big man didn’t seem to be saying much, but he nodded every so often.
After Ethan had watched them for several moments, his curiosity got the better of him. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, drawing blood.
Audiam, Ethan said to himself. Ex cruore evocatum. Listen, conjured from blood.
He felt the blood in his mouth vanish. Uncle Reg appeared beside him and power thrummed like a plucked string on a lute, making the air in the tavern come alive for the span of a heartbeat. No one standing near Ethan appeared to notice—only someone who conjured would. But the bespectacled man stiffened noticeably.
Ethan felt his blood run cold. The man had sensed his conjuring, and already was turning to look for its source. Biting down on his cheek a second time, he whispered a second spell. Abi! Go away! A second pulse made the tavern floor hum. The old ghost shot Ethan a filthy look, and vanished. An instant later the bespectacled man swiveled in his chair, his gaze passing over Ethan.
“What is it?” the big man asked, his voice now reaching Ethan’s ears. “Did you hear—?”
But the stranger raised a hand, silencing him as he continued to search the tavern.
Ethan waited until the man had turned to look elsewhere, and made his way back to the table, his eyes fixed on Diver, the hand holding his ale steady. His mind was reeling, though. Whatever else this man was, he was also a speller, or at least someone who had been born to conjuring. Ethan hoped that he wasn’t skilled enough with the craft to know what kind of spell Ethan had cast.
“It is nothing,” he heard the man say at last, his voice low, the words tinged with a barely discernible accent that Ethan couldn’t place at first.
“You was tellin’ me about the ship,” the big man said.
The bespectacled man didn’t respond right away. Ethan assumed that he was still searching the tavern. If Ethan had sensed someone else casting spells near him, that’s what he would have done. He regained the table and sat opposite Diver, though he kept his attention on the conversation now echoing in his head.
“Yes, the ship,” the man said. Forced to guess, Ethan would have said he came from somewhere on the Iberian Peninsula; Portugal perhaps. “It arrived with the others. I do not know yet when it will dock—it does not matter really. What matters is that he does not find his way into the city.”
“Which wharf do you think they’ll dock at?”
“I do not believe that will matter either,” the man said. “We are to keep him out of the city. The rest is of less importance, but it has been made clear to me that he must not reach Boston.”
“Made clear?” the big man repeated. “You mean by Seph—?”
“Shh!” the bespectacled man said sharply. “Do not say anything more.”
“Bu—”
“Nothing more. It was made clear to me. You know by who. We need not speak of it further.”
The big man grunted and said, “All right then. And how’re we supposed to keep him away?”
“That is my concern. You have other responsibilities, which I have already explained to you. See to them, and we will not have any surprises, even if the rest does not go as it is supposed to.”
“You all right?”
Ethan looked over at Diver, who was eyeing him with concern. He held up a hand and shook his head.
“How much we gettin’ for all of this anyways?” the big man asked.
“Ethan—”
“Quiet, Diver!” he whispered harshly. “I’m listening.”
“… pounds, divided the usual way.”
“Aye, well that way still ain’t right. You said last time it’d be changin’. Remember?”
“Listening to what?” Diver asked, obviously wounded by Ethan’s tone.
Ethan glared at him.
“… will change. Perhaps this time. But first we have to complete the task. After that we can talk about a new division o
f payment.”
The big man grunted again, sounding unhappy.
The stranger and his friend fell into a brief silence. Then Ethan heard one of them put a tankard on the table. A chair scraped across the tavern’s wooden floor.
“I am leaving now,” the bespectacled man said. “I would suggest you leave this place as well. I am not sure it is as safe as we assumed.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing,” the stranger said, his voice low.
Ethan saw the bespectacled man emerge from their section of the tavern and make his way to the door. He watched out of the corner of his eye as once again the man surveyed the room, perhaps hoping that his unseen observer would reveal himself with another spell. Reaching the door, he glanced back one last time, his spectacles flashing in the lamplight. Then he slipped out into the night. Shortly after, the big man left as well, lumbering to the door without so much as a backward glance.
Still Ethan didn’t release the spell, for fear that the stranger lurked outside the Dowser, waiting for him to do just that.
But he faced Diver again. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I had cast a spell and was listening to their conversation.”
“Whose conversation?” Diver demanded. Ethan could tell that he had pushed his friend to the limits of his patience.
“I didn’t catch either of their names. I told you, I saw one of them with Tanner; the other I had never seen before. But he started to say something about Sephira. I’m sure of it. The other man cut him off before he could say more.”
“What were they talking about?”
Ethan repeated their cryptic references to the ship.
“Do you think any of this is important?”
“I don’t know,” Ethan admitted. “But there was something else about the one who knows Tanner: He felt my conjuring.”
Diver’s brow furrowed. “You think he—” He stopped, his mouth dropping open and his eyes going wide. “You mean,” he whispered, “you think he’s a speller, too?”
“Aye. And if he is—and if he’s working on something with Sephira—then this could be very important.”
“So what do we do?”
Ethan managed not to laugh. “I’m not sure that ‘we’ do anything. I don’t know that it’s a good idea for you to help me with this.”
“Why not?”
“Because it can be dangerous meddling in Sephira Pryce’s affairs. And because you’re not exactly the most reliable person I could choose as a partner.”
Diver’s cheeks colored. “I told you I wouldn’t discuss your business with anyone else,” he said, with an earnestness Ethan had never seen in him before. “And I meant it. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. But I can help you with this.”
Ethan felt his resolve weakening.
Diver grinned. “Come on. Give me another chance. I lost money tonight, too, and I wouldn’t mind getting back at Sephira just a little bit.”
“All right,” Ethan said, knowing that if Kannice were listening, she would call him a fool and worse. “You’re working the wharves tomorrow, right?”
“Aye, but I can skip it if you need me to.”
“No, I need you there.” Diver’s face fell, but Ethan pressed on. “Where will you be?”
“Thornton’s Shipyard,” Diver said, his voice flat. “Or maybe Greenough’s.”
“Good. In that case you can be responsible for watching the North End wharves for Sephira or this friend of hers.”
“How can I do that? You didn’t even let me look at him!”
Ethan described the man and his companion. “Don’t say anything to them. Don’t even go near them. Just watch what they do and report back to me.”
Diver frowned. Ethan could see that he was disappointed by his instructions. “All right. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll be watching the wharves in the South End and Cornhill.” He couldn’t possibly watch all the wharves, of course. Boston’s waterfront was as active as any in New England and was nearly a match for those in New York and Philadelphia, even with the hard times that had befallen the city in recent years. But he hoped that if he could stay near Long Wharf, the busiest in the city, he might learn something of value.
“Are you sure there isn’t something else you want me to do?” Diver asked. “Maybe follow Spectacles, or his big friend?”
“I’m sure,” Ethan said.
“Right.” Diver drank the rest of his ale and stood. “Best be heading off then. I have an exciting day at the wharf ahead of me.”
“Sleep well, my friend,” Ethan said.
Diver nodded, but lingered by the table. “I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“It can’t happen again, Diver. It’s not just my livelihood I’m risking by letting you help me. It’s my life, and yours too.”
“I understand.”
Ethan smiled. “Good. Get some rest.”
Diver left the tavern, raising a hand in farewell as he passed Kelf. Not long after, Kannice came to Ethan’s table, as he had known she would.
She sat and took his hand. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked.
Ethan chuckled. “Diver would prefer that I didn’t.”
“I thought as much. That’s why I asked you.”
“I won’t bother you with the details, but the upshot is that Sephira learned of my work for Mister Short from a girl Diver knows, and it cost us a few pounds.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing to be done about it now.”
“She could have killed you.”
“Sephira has had ample opportunity to kill me, if that’s what she wants,” he said. But Kannice was right. It could have been far worse. For Tanner it nearly was. He wondered if he had been too quick to let Diver work with him again.
“You know what I mean,” Kannice said. “I understand that he’s your friend, but you’re best off leaving him to the wharves and doing your thieftaking on your own.”
Sound advice. He would have been wise to take it.
“You’re already letting him help you with something else, aren’t you?”
She knew him as well as she did the wood grain of her tavern’s bar, and she was as smart as anyone he had ever known. He would have been well served to have her work with him, but she was too clever for that.
“It’s not a job,” Ethan said, an admission in the words. “I saw something tonight, and I just want to make sure that Sephira isn’t causing more trouble.”
She glared at him, lamplight shining in her bright blue eyes. “And you thought it would be a good idea to let Derrey tag along as you meddle in Sephira Pryce’s affairs.”
Strange that it hadn’t sounded half as foolish when he himself said much the same thing. He didn’t like to admit that loyalty to a friend could be a fault, but perhaps he had been too quick to forgive Diver.
“Honestly, Ethan, sometimes I think his stupidity rubs off on you, like it’s contagious or something.”
She shook her head, got up, and started toward the bar. Halfway there, she stopped, heaved a sigh, and walked back to his table. Halting in front of him, she offered a contrite smile. “I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did. I just remember what’s happened in the past when you’ve crossed her.”
He remembered, too. Over the years, Sephira’s men had beaten him to a bloody mess, stolen his money, and come close to killing him more times than he could count. “I’m not going out of my way to start a new fight with Sephira Pryce. I promise. But one of the men I saw in here tonight is a conjurer, and I think I overheard him and his friend talking about Sephira. I don’t like the idea of her having access to spells.”
“I can see that.” She tilted her head to the side, a coy smile curving her lips. “Are you staying tonight?”
“I’d like to, if you don’t mind having a man as foolish as me in your bed.”
She grinned and draped the towel she was carrying over her shoulder. “It’s never bothered me before,” she said, a
nd walked away.
Chapter
THREE
Strange, dark dreams troubled his sleep. At first he was chasing Tanner through the narrow fog-shrouded byways of the South End. Soon, though, he was the one being pursued. He couldn’t see who followed him, but he knew it had to be Sephira and her men, and he knew as well that they were intent on killing him.
Before long, though, he had stopped running. The bespectacled man stood before him, a knife in his hand, blood on his forearm, and the words of a spell on his lips. Ethan grabbed for his own blade and fumbled with his sleeve, but he knew his own spell would come too late to block the fence’s assault.
Which may have been why he felt so disoriented when he awoke suddenly to what felt like a mighty wave of conjuring power. It seemed to rise from the earth itself, like the deep rumble of thunder after a flash of lightning. The entire building trembled with it. Or did it? At first Ethan thought he was dreaming, and even after he opened his eyes to the faint morning light seeping into Kannice’s bedroom around the edges of the shuttered window, he couldn’t tell if what he had felt was real or imagined. His heart labored in his chest, and he took several long breaths, trying to calm himself.
Kannice stirred beside him. “Whassamatter?” she asked in a muffled, sleepy voice.
Ethan kissed her bare shoulder. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
But he was already wide awake. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his body tense as he waited for another pulse of power. None came, and as the minutes dragged by he began to doubt that he had actually felt the first one. It would have taken a powerful conjurer to cast such a deep spell, and there weren’t that many in Boston. At least, not among the people he knew.
His thoughts turned once more to the foreigner he had seen downstairs in the Dowser the night before. His awareness of Ethan’s conjuring marked him as a speller. But Ethan had no reason to think that the bespectacled stranger was powerful or skilled enough to cast a spell as strong as the one he had just felt. Such an accomplished conjurer would have known what kind of casting Ethan had used the night before, and would have left the tavern rather than continue a conversation that, for good reason, he didn’t want others to hear. A speller with such abilities might even have determined exactly who in the tavern had cast the listening spell.
Thieves' Quarry (The Thieftaker Chronicles) Page 3
