None of the others noticed either the rumble of the spell or Mariz’s spectral guide. They were all staring at Nigel, whose coat was now covered with a glow of its own. It was a rich russet, the color of a full moon balanced on the horizon; the color of Uncle Reg.
“That’s Ethan’s magick?” Sephira asked.
“Aye,” Ethan said. “It is.”
“I have seen his fantasma,” Mariz said. “His spirit. It is the same color.”
“Yes, very well.” She waved a hand at Rowan’s broken furniture. “Get on with it.”
“What about me?” Nigel said, as the rest of them approached the piles of debris. “How do you make this go away?”
Sephira ignored him, so Ethan did the same. It warmed his heart to think that for just a short while Yellow-hair believed the glow of Ethan’s power would remain on him forever.
Mariz had cut himself again, and now he cast a second revela potestatem spell. Ethan felt this conjuring as well. He caught Mariz’s eye and nodded. For right now at least, the conjurings were working as they were supposed to.
Ethan heard a small intake of breath from Sephira and knew that the spells had convinced her of his innocence. He turned to look at her, feeling just a bit smug. But when he saw the glow that clung to the broken furniture, all thoughts of gloating fled his mind, to be replaced by a cold foreboding.
“Are you sure you did that correctly?” he heard Sephira ask.
“Yes, Senhora. These items were destroyed by a different conjurer.”
A boot scraped; Sephira turning to look at him. “I suppose that means I don’t get to kill you today,” she said.
But Ethan couldn’t bring himself to speak. He stared at the broken table legs, the split chair backs, the charred remains of chests and desks, and he couldn’t even bring himself to blink. That color—deep aqua, like the ocean on a calm summer morning—he had seen it before, and its presence here made his heart labor.
“Do you know who that color belongs to?” Sephira’s voice.
“No, Senhora. I do not.”
“I do,” Ethan said. He turned at last to face Sephira and Mariz. “This is far, far worse than I thought.”
Chapter
TEN
“Worse for whom?” Sephira asked.
Ethan glanced at Mariz again. He desperately wanted to speak with the conjurer alone, away from Sephira and her toughs. But that conversation would have to wait.
“For all of us,” he said. “That color belongs to a man named Nate Ramsey.”
She shook her head, unmoved. “That means nothing to me.”
“It will,” Ethan said. “I encountered Ramsey nigh unto six years ago. His father was captain of the merchant ship Muirenn, just as Nate is now. And he was also a conjurer, as is the son. Captain Ramsey the elder had dealings with a pair of merchants—Isaac Keller and Deron Forrs.”
“Keller and Forrs?” Sephira said. “They’re both long dead.”
“Aye. I’m telling you how they died.”
Her cheeks might have paled. She nodded for him to continue.
“Keller and Forrs knew that the older Ramsey was, as they put it, a witch. And they used that knowledge to cow the man into doing their bidding. He smuggled on their behalf, running molasses up from Martinique, and they paid him barely enough to cover his expenses. When he informed them of his intention to end the arrangement, they threatened to have both him and his son hanged as witches.”
“What does this—?”
“Patience, Sephira. In the end, the old man saw only one way to escape them. He had lost his wife years ago, and his son was old enough to take care of himself and captain the family’s vessel. So Captain Ramsey hanged himself from the main yard of the Muirenn.
“The son took command of the ship, and refused to do business with Keller and Forrs. Instead, he vowed revenge. He swore that the merchants would suffer for what they had done to his father.”
He gazed at the aqua glow again. Six years later, the memory of his failure still tasted bitter. “The merchants came to me,” he said. “Actually, Sheriff Greenleaf brought them to me. He has long suspected that I’m a conjurer, though he hasn’t been able to prove it. But in this case, rather than wanting to see me hanged for a witch, he thought to make some coin off of my ‘dark talents.’ He introduced us, and Keller and Forrs hired me to protect them from Ramsey.
“Of course, they told me their side of the conflict and nothing more: The father was mad, they said; he had accused them without cause of stealing money from them, and now the son was making threats. I went to speak with Ramsey, and it was from him that I heard what the merchants had done to his father. But by then, of course, I was working for Keller and Forrs. And the rest you know.”
“He killed them,” Sephira said.
“Aye. I saw him kill Keller. He and I battled and I managed to hurt him, but he was relentless, bent on revenge. He would gladly have traded his life for theirs; in the end there was nothing I could do to stop him. He had burns on his face and hands. He had a broken leg thanks to a spell I cast. And still he got away from me and killed Forrs, too.”
“Then what?”
“Then he sailed away from Boston. I thought at the time that he had left for good.”
“It seems you were wrong,” Sephira said. “So, help me to understand. Is this Ramsey character more powerful than you are?”
Ethan shook his head. “No. But he’s no weaker, either. He’s cunning, and I’m afraid he’s a bit mad. If I’m remembering the color of his power correctly, and if he has come back to Boston, he has a reason.”
“Do you know what that reason is?”
“I wish I did,” he told her.
Mariz stared hard at him, and Ethan knew why. The night before he had told the man of the grave robberies; they had spoken of the odd troubles they were having with their conjurings. Ethan had no doubt that these things were connected in some way to Ramsey’s return. Mariz suspected as much as well. But the conjurer couldn’t bring this to Sephira’s attention without revealing that he and Ethan had spoken without her knowledge, or that he had helped Ethan evade Nigel, Nap, and Gordon.
The truth was, Ethan didn’t know anything for certain, and he wasn’t yet ready to tell Sephira more about the desecrations or to share with her his vague suspicions about Ramsey. He avoided meeting Mariz’s intense gaze, knowing that the conjurer could do nothing more than glare.
“Well, Ethan, it sounds like this is your fault after all. You let this Ramsey character escape from you six years ago, and now he’s back. So, I’m going to leave it to you to deal with him.”
“I’m going to need to speak with Rowan,” Ethan said.
“About my inquiry?” she demanded, indignant.
“Ramsey was here,” Ethan said. “It may be that he has some history with the Rowan family. Perhaps the elder Rowan worked with Keller and Forrs. I can’t ‘deal with him,’ as you put it, without speaking to both the son and the father.”
Sephira’s glare left little doubt as to how she felt about this. But she said, “Fine. Speak with them both. Just make it clear that you’re doing it for me, that this is still my job.”
“Of course. What kind of thieftaker would try to steal a job from a rival?”
If she recognized herself in his question, she didn’t give him the satisfaction of showing it.
“Get him out of here,” she said to Mariz.
“I need my knife and my mullein.”
He thought she might refuse, but after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded to Nigel.
The big man handed Ethan the blade and the pouch. “One day she’s goin’ to let me do as I want with you, an’ then, the beatin’ you took today will seem like a stroll on the Common.”
Ethan turned and walked away, Mariz trailing behind him. Once they were outside, the conjurer said, “You should have told her.”
“I should have told her what? That I think Ramsey might be robbing graves, and that whatever he’s doing is making
my conjurings less reliable? I don’t want Sephira to know that.”
“I could tell her.”
“Yes, you could. But you know how smart she is. It wouldn’t take her long to understand that if my power is weakening, yours is, too. She already knows that the warding you put on Nigel today didn’t work. Do you really want her to question your usefulness?”
Mariz didn’t answer. He escorted Ethan to where young Mr. Rowan was waiting. But just before they reached the merchant, he said in a low voice, “You are afraid of this Ramsey, are you not?”
“Aye,” Ethan said. “As I said to Sephira, he’s not any more powerful than you and I are. But he would do anything, kill anyone, to achieve his ends, whatever they may be.”
“So, I will help you fight him.”
“Sephira might have something to say about that.”
“If Miss Pryce feels that he is a threat to her clients, she will want me to kill him, and it sounds as though in a battle with this man, I might require your aid.”
Ethan wasn’t sure how to reply. “Perhaps it won’t come to a battle,” he finally said.
Mariz quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing.
The younger Rowan marked their approach and closed the remaining distance in a few quick strides. “Can my men get back to work now?”
“Yes, sir,” Ethan said. “But I wonder if I might have a word with you before you join them inside.”
“What about?” He cast a quick look at Mariz.
“I will return to Miss Pryce,” the conjurer said. To Ethan, he added, “We will speak again soon.”
“Aye,” Ethan said. “I look forward to it.”
Once Ethan and Mr. Rowan were alone, the merchant asked, “Did you wish to speak of…?” He wet his lips. “Of what you saw at our home last night?”
“Not directly, sir, though it may be that last night’s encounter and what happened here at the warehouse are connected.”
“That is a most remarkable assertion, Mister Kaille. How is that possible?”
“I have few answers right now, sir, and a great many questions.”
“Yes, of course. Proceed.”
“Thank you. Have you or your father had dealings with a merchant captain named Nathaniel Ramsey?”
“Ramsey,” Mister Rowan repeated. “The name is familiar, although I can’t remember exactly why. I’ve not had dealings with him, but it’s possible that my father has.”
“Would you mind if I approached him about this?”
“Not at all. Do you believe that this Ramsey fellow is responsible for the damage done to our warehouse?”
“I should have been more precise with my question. There were two Nathaniel Ramseys. One, whom your father might have known, died seven years ago. The second is his son, who I believe may recently have returned to Boston. I believe it’s possible that he was responsible for the damage inflicted on your goods.”
Rowan glanced around and asked in a whisper, “And how might this be connected to the appearance of my mother’s ghost?”
“That is a more difficult question, sir. I believe it’s possible that the younger Ramsey, Nate, might have been connected to the desecrations at King’s Chapel Burying Ground. And I believe that those desecrations might have … unsettled the dead.”
“Had I not seen my mother’s shade with my own eyes, I would say that you were mad. But of course I have seen it, and it seems that my entire world has been turned on its head.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why would Ramsey do these things? What is it he wants from me?”
“I don’t yet know the answer to that, sir. I once had dealings with him, and I found him to be clever, but unbalanced, and utterly ruthless. Whatever his purpose, I don’t believe you and your father are his only targets. A good many graves have been disturbed, and from what I hear from Se—that is, from Miss Pryce, yours was one of several warehouses to have been abused in this way.”
“That is my understanding as well.” Rowan took a breath and pulled himself to his full height. “All right. I have tasks to which to attend, and you have an inquiry to conduct. My father is at home today; you can find him there. I would like you to report back to me when you can.”
“Yes, sir,” Ethan said. It pained him to speak his next words, but he had made a promise to Sephira, and a pointed one at that. “Miss Pryce is conducting the inquiry that pertains to your warehouse. I’ll leave it to her to speak to you of those matters. But I promise to keep you informed with respect to my inquiry on behalf of your congregation.”
“Very good. Thank you.”
Ethan left Long Wharf, pausing once he reached King Street. He wanted to speak with Mr. Rowan the elder, but he also wished to approach Sebastian Wise, who had warehouses on Burrel’s Wharf. He had a list of more than a dozen names from Pell: the recently deceased whose graves had been violated. He wished to speak with their families as well. He wanted more information from Janna, and from Gavin Black. And a part of him wanted to search Boston’s entire waterfront for the Muirenn. If he could find Ramsey, he might not need to speak with any of the others. He had little doubt that the captain was behind all the mischief that had been visited upon the city in the past several days.
He dismissed this last idea as rash; Ramsey was not a foe with whom he could trifle. Before he confronted the man, he needed to know more about what he had already done, and where his scheming might lead.
He made his decision and headed up Merchant’s Row toward the North End. Sephira would not be pleased with him when she learned that he had gone to speak with Mr. Wise without her permission. He could not have cared less.
Burrel’s Wharf was a broad pier off of Fish Street. It jutted out into the harbor between Clarke’s Wharf and Lee’s Shipyard, where Diver once worked. Sebastian Wise’s warehouse stood closest to the street. Upon entering it, Ethan was presented with a scene similar to that which he had seen on Long Wharf. Laborers sorted through the ruin of spoiled foodstuffs and shattered plates and glasses, while a man in a green silk ditto suit looked on, rage and disgust etched in his features.
This man appeared to be a few years older than Ethan himself. His black hair was salted generously with white, but his mien was youthful, and he was hale and stood straight-backed.
Ethan intended to approach him, but almost as soon as he entered the warehouse, he was accosted by a brawny laborer brandishing a wooden cudgel.
“Who are you?” he said, more growl than question.
“I’m here to see Mister Wise.”
“That’s not what I asked, is it?”
Ethan allowed himself a smile, his eyes holding those of the brute. “My name is Ethan Kaille. I’m a thieftaker, and I would like very much to speak with your employer.”
“He’s a bit busy right now, and as far as I know, he ain’t had nothin’ pinched.” He took hold of Ethan’s arm. “So I think it’s time you was leavin’.”
Ethan didn’t budge, nor did he allow his smile to slip. “I understand that you’re doing your job, and I know as well that you wouldn’t guess it from looking at me, but you’re taking a bit of a risk right now. So, let go of me before I shatter every bone in your arm, and tell Mister Wise that Ethan Kaille is here to see him.”
The brute blinked, his mouth hanging open.
“Who is this, Robert?”
Ethan and the brute turned. The well-dressed man had ventured a few steps closer.
“My name is Ethan Kaille, sir. I’m a thieftaker and an associate of Sephira Pryce. Are you Sebastian Wise?”
“I am.”
“I wonder if I might speak with you, sir. I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Yes, of course.” He beckoned Ethan over.
Ethan patted the brute’s shoulder as he stepped past him. “My thanks, Robert.”
“You say that you’re a friend of Miss Pryce?” Wise asked as Ethan joined him.
“I believe ‘associate’ is the better word. I’m gathering a bit of information on her
behalf. Your business arrangement is with her, of course. But I’m conducting an inquiry that I believe is related to hers.”
“I see. And you said your name is Kaille?”
“Aye.”
“The same Kaille who took part in the Ruby Blade mutiny?”
Ethan felt his cheeks burn. But he refused to look away. He had labored fourteen years for his crime, suffering indignities and injuries that would remain with him for the rest of his life. He refused to be shamed by this man or any other.
“One and the same, sir,” he said.
“I remember reading of the incident,” Wise said, “although many of the particulars escape me now. I was a young man at the time.”
“So was I.”
“A fair point,” Wise said. “What can I do for you, Mister Kaille?”
“I just have a few questions for you, sir. I’m wondering if you have had dealings with Captain Nathaniel Ramsey?”
“The elder or the younger?”
“Either.”
“I haven’t personally, no. But my father did, before he died. He was Sebastian Wise as well, and he did business with the elder Ramsey, until the captain’s death.”
“Have you ever met the younger Ramsey?”
“Not that I remember, though I suppose it’s possible I have.”
You would remember, Ethan wanted to say. But he kept that thought to himself. “Can you tell me anything about the business your father conducted with Captain Ramsey?”
Wise shrugged, marking the progress of his workmen with his dark eyes. “I don’t believe there was anything unusual about it. My father was a merchant, as am I. Captain Ramsey transported items, which my father bought from him and sold at a profit.”
“Yes, sir. Can you tell me if your father also had dealings with Isaac Keller and Deron Forrs?”
A Plunder of Souls (The Thieftaker Chronicles) Page 15
