Janna’s mouth twisted, like that of a child puzzling over a difficult bit of arithmetic. Mariz watched Ethan.
For his part, Ethan was thinking once more of the Osborne sisters, of how similar all their gestures and actions had been. The spells they recited together had sounded as rehearsed as the repertoire of professional musicians.
“We should be standing together,” he said. “Side by side. And our guides should clasp hands.”
All of them repositioned themselves.
“What else?” Mariz asked.
“It should all be done precisely. Our cuts should be the same length, the same depth, and simultaneous. And we need to speak the spell as one, at exactly the same time.” He turned to Janna. “How do you say it?”
She recited the Latin for him.
“Again,” Ethan said.
Janna spoke the spell a second time.
Looking at Mariz, Ethan said, “Can you repeat it the same way?”
“I believe so, yes.”
Ethan placed his knife against his skin. “Let’s try the spell again.”
They cut themselves and spoke the conjuring. But though Ethan could hear that they were more in unison than they had been on their first attempt, he also knew that once again they had failed. He felt three distinct thrums of power, and while a wind did rise, it was no more forceful than a wind he could have summoned on his own.
“That was my fault,” Mariz said. “I was too slow with the second half of the spell. Let us try it once more.”
“Is that all right with you, Janna?” Ethan asked, eyeing her.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice quavering. “I’s feelin’ a bit faint.”
“Are you? Because we can—”
“No, I’m not!” she snapped at him. “Stop treatin’ me like some frail old woman!”
Mariz laughed; after a moment Ethan did as well.
Janna tried to look cross, but after a few seconds, she grinned, too. “I ain’t that old,” she said, the smile lingering. “And I’m a lot stronger than I look.”
“All right,” Ethan said. “Consider me properly chastened.”
He raised his knife once more. Janna and Mariz did the same.
“Provoca ventum ex cruore evocatum,” they said as one.
There could be no mistaking the powerful rumble of the spell as it shook the walls of Janna’s tavern. Once more a wind rose, this time building into a gale that rattled the door and overturned several tables and chairs.
Mariz was smiling, looking amazed; even Janna beamed.
Ethan raised his knife. “We need to release this wind,” he shouted over the howl, “before it tears the Spider apart.”
Janna nodded.
They cut themselves, and said together, “Dimitte ventum ex cruore evocatum.” Release wind, conjured from blood.
Another pulse rumbled beneath their feet, and the gale died away.
“Well, I’ll be,” Janna said. “I didn’t think we could do this, Kaille. I’m impressed.”
“As am I.”
He and Mariz righted the tables and chairs.
“Ramsey will have felt those conjurings,” Mariz said in a low voice as they worked. “He will be ready.”
“Aye, he will,” Ethan said. “Perhaps he’ll even think twice about facing us.”
Mariz did not answer.
“You disagree?”
“I think you are too eager to avoid a fight. That can be an admirable trait, but it is not always appropriate.”
Ethan picked up a chair and set it down smartly before looking the man in the eye. “And today it got Nigel killed.”
“Nigel’s death was not your fault. I would never claim otherwise.”
“Would Sephira, if she knew of the choice I made last night?”
“She will not learn of it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Mariz faltered. “Yes,” he finally said. “I believe she would.”
Ethan felt certain that he was right.
“What do we do now?” Janna asked.
Both men turned.
“We go to Tileston’s Wharf,” Ethan said. “And we talk to Ramsey.”
Janna raised an eyebrow. “We talk to him? What if he don’t want to talk?”
“Then we cast, just as we have here. But understand, he still controls an army of shades, innocents whose souls he holds in the palm of his hand. If he dies, they’re lost.”
Mariz and Janna shared a look.
“Kaille—” Janna began.
“I know what you’re going to say. But if there’s any chance we can save them, I’m going to try.”
“All right,” she said. “Let’s be goin’.”
“First, we have to go to the senhora’s house,” Mariz said.
Janna’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he talkin’ about?” she asked, but Ethan could tell that she already understood.
“He’s talking about Sephira. She and her men will be coming with us to the dock.”
“And when were you plannin’ to tell me that?” Janna asked, fists on her hips.
“At the very last minute, if possible.” Ethan assayed a smile.
Janna’s expression didn’t change.
“We need her, Miss Windcatcher,” Mariz said. “Ramsey will have his crew to protect him. We need the senhora and her men to help us past them.”
“Fine,” she said, spitting the word. To Ethan she added pointedly, “You and I will talk later.”
Before anyone could say more, Ethan felt the rumble of a spell, distant but powerful.
“Ramsey?” Mariz asked.
The pulse of a second conjuring vibrated in the floor and walls.
“That’s strong magick,” Janna said. “Must be Ramsey.”
Ethan agreed. “We need to go.”
They left the Fat Spider, pausing so that Janna could lock the door, and set out for Sephira’s estate. Their ghosts remained with them. The conjurers said little as they walked, though they felt one more spell. Ethan thought that the spells were coming from near the waterfront, and though he wasn’t certain, he noticed that Janna and Mariz both gazed toward the harbor. When they reached Sephira’s estate, Mariz went up the path and entered the house, while Ethan and Janna waited in the lane. Janna eyed the house, her lips pursed. Her blue spectral guide stood with her, also looking up at the house. Reg, Ethan noticed, was watching Janna’s ghost,
“This is where she lives?” Janna asked at length.
“Aye.”
“Sure is big.”
“It is.”
“You ever been inside?”
“Aye,” Ethan said. “It’s nice. Nicer than she deserves.”
Janna chuckled. “So why are you workin’ with her now?”
“Because I can’t beat Ramsey on my own, and she hates him even more than she hates me.” He took a long breath, his throat tightening. “Ramsey killed one of her men today. She doesn’t know it, but Mariz and I could have killed Ramsey last night. I elected to spare his life, and so Sephira’s man is dead.”
Janna shook her head. “Life don’t always work that way. Sure, if you’d killed Ramsey, he couldn’t have killed Sephira’s boy. But you don’t know what would have happened to him later today or tomorrow or the next day. We can all take blame for one thing or another. Don’t make it harder on yourself than it needs to be. You spared a man’s life. What he does with his life after, that ain’t your responsibility.”
Ethan nodded.
Before either of them could say more, the door to the house opened and Sephira’s men—at least ten of them—filed out, followed by the Empress herself.
Upon spotting Ethan and Janna, Sephira hesitated for an instant. Lifting her chin, she walked past her men to the street, where she halted, facing Janna.
“Miss Windcatcher,” she said.
Janna looked her up and down. “Pryce.”
“Have you and I had dealings before?”
“Not directly. But once, a long time
ago. A man offered me a lot o’ coin to get a girl to like him, and before he could pay me, you did somethin’ to him. I don’t know what. But I know it was you, and I know that I never saw him or his money again.”
“What was his name?”
“Don’t know that either,” Janna said, still sounding guarded. “For today it don’t matter.”
Sephira nodded, glancing at Ethan. “You’re right. It doesn’t. You’re ready?” she asked of Ethan.
“Aye. Let’s be going.”
They set out toward the waterfront, Nap, Gordon, and Afton walking ahead of them, followed by Ethan and Janna, Mariz and Sephira. The rest of Sephira’s toughs followed.
As they neared the center of the South End, and the streets grew more crowded, people stopped to stare at their odd procession. For most people, seeing Sephira was an occasion to be remembered. But the sight of her in such strange company—with all of her men, as well as a wizened African woman—would be something people spoke of for days to come.
“You handled that well,” Ethan said to Janna, keeping his voice low.
“What? Pryce?” She waved a hand, dismissing the compliment. “I’m just bein’ practical. You’ve seen her house. It ain’t smart business to stay mad at a woman who’s livin’ like that.”
Even under these circumstances, Ethan couldn’t help but smile. He wondered if Janna wasn’t being more clever about her animosity for Sephira than Ethan had been over the years.
As they drew near to the wharves, these other thoughts fled his mind. By returning to the wharf with Sephira, Ethan had all but declared himself at war with Ramsey. On the other hand, the captain himself had done as much in their most recent encounter.
Sephira’s men—at least those walking behind him—had been talking among themselves as they walked through the city lanes, but as the wharves loomed before them, the men fell silent. Ethan sensed Sephira’s tension as well.
Mariz glanced back at him, and they drew their blades at the same time. Ethan looked at Janna. She already had her knife in hand.
They reached Tileston’s Wharf and walked toward the spot where the Muirenn had been moored earlier in the day. Halfway out, Ethan halted.
“Where did he go?” Sephira asked. She turned to Ethan. “Where did he go?”
Ethan shook his head. He had no idea. All he knew was that Ramsey’s ship had vanished.
Chapter
TWENTY-ONE
“I want answers, Ethan!”
He stared hard at Sephira. “I have none for you. When I left the wharf this morning, he was here. I expected that he still would be, just as you did.”
“Is it possible that he left Boston?” Mariz asked. “He must have known that the senhora would be coming for him, and he might have guessed that you and I would work together to destroy him. Perhaps he fled.”
Ethan shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like Ramsey to me. He wanted to fight me. He believes that he can destroy all of us, and he’s eager to prove to us and to himself that he’s right.”
“One of us can try a findin’ spell,” Janna said. “Or we can do it together if we have to.”
“He will expect that,” Mariz said.
Janna shrugged. “So? He knew that we’d come lookin’ for him; that’s why he ain’t here. He’s already thinkin’ ahead of us. We might as well play his game and find him.”
Mariz turned to Ethan, a question in his eyes.
“I’m afraid she’s right,” Ethan said. “If he’s still in Boston, I want to know where. We’ll give away our position with the spell, but as Janna says, he already knows where we are. On the other hand, I don’t think we have to cast this spell together—I’d rather he didn’t know we’ve mastered that particular skill.”
Ethan cut his arm. “Locus magi ex cruore evocatus.” Location of conjurer, conjured from blood.
The spell hummed in the ground, but otherwise Ethan felt nothing. He glanced at Reg, who merely shrugged. Ethan tried the spell twice more, with the same result.
“We may need to conjure together after all,” he said.
“Whatever you intend to do, do it quickly!” Sephira said. “For all we know he’s gone already!”
The way she said it, one might have thought this would be the worst thing that could have happened. Ethan thought otherwise.
Mariz stepped closer to Ethan, as did Janna. They raised their blades.
“Ethan!”
He turned with the others. A gray-haired man strode toward them, a hitch in his step.
“Gavin?”
Janna sidled closer to Ethan. “I thought you said he wasn’t comin’.”
“That’s what he told me.”
The old captain walked to where they waited, his cheeks red, his face damp with sweat. He was breathing hard, leading Ethan to wonder how far he had walked.
“Good day, Janna,” he said.
“Black.”
A frown crossed the man’s face as he glanced at Sephira and her toughs, but he turned his attention back to Ethan.
“I’ve just come from Nate Ramsey’s ship.”
Ethan and Janna shared a look.
“Where?” Ethan asked.
“He’s moored at Drake’s Wharf.”
Drake’s Wharf was located near the top of the North End, between Hunt and White’s Shipyard and the Charlestown Ferry. It was just about as far from their present location as a ship in Boston could be.
“I don’t understand. He’s been here on Tileston’s Wharf for days. Why now would he choose to go to Drake’s Wharf, of all places?”
“I don’t know,” Gavin said.
“The question I have,” Janna said, regarding Gavin with manifest distrust, “is what were you doin’ with him in the first place?”
Gavin’s face turned an even deeper shade of crimson. “After Ethan talked to me, I felt awful—like a coward. So I put my fears aside and I came here.” He looked at Ethan. “This is where you told me he was. And sure enough, there he was on his father’s old ship, looking so much like Nathaniel had as a younger man that it broke my heart.”
“You spoke to him?” Ethan asked.
Gavin nodded. “He welcomed me aboard the Muirenn. His crew looked like they were readying the ship to leave, but I went up to talk to him, to ask him about the things you told me, Ethan. About the graves and my … well, the trouble I’ve been having with my spells. And he said all of it was true. I couldn’t believe it. He just admitted everything.”
“What did he say, Gavin?” Ethan asked. “What were his exact words?”
Gavin screwed up his face, trying to remember. “He said that he needed the ghosts to bring back his father, and also to make the rest of us weak. He said, ‘The weaker you get, the stronger I am. The shades see to that.’ I wasn’t sure what he meant, but it sounded a lot like what you told me he was doing.”
“What else?”
“Well, I tried to talk him out of it, of course. I told him that his father wouldn’t approve of what he was doing, and I tried to remind him of the times he and I had spent together, when he was a lad. But he barely heard me. And before I knew it, Ramsey’s crew had the ship’s sweeps out, and we were leaving the wharf. I got scared and told him that I wanted to go back, and he laughed at me. So, I pulled out my knife, and I tried a spell.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “What kind of spell?”
“I wanted to hurt him. I tried to set him on fire. I did it twice and both times the spell failed. Ramsey and his men laughed at me. And then Ramsey cast a spell of his own.” Gavin rubbed his jaw. “It felt like someone punched me right here. I blacked out, and the next thing I knew, we were at Drake’s Wharf, and two of Ramsey’s men were carrying me off the ship.”
“So all three spells were cast while you were on the water?” Ethan asked.
“Aye.”
“Those were the conjurings we felt,” Mariz said. “They were powerful because they were cast on water.”
“He wants you to go there, Ethan,”
Gavin said. “He’s waiting for you. That was the other thing he said: He wants to destroy you and use your shade to complete his mastery of the realm where our power dwells. And he wants to avenge himself upon you for using the shade of his father against him. He said that, too. If you go there, you’ll be helping him. You’ll be walking into an ambush.”
Ethan shrugged. “I never expected to surprise him.”
“You’re going anyway?”
“Aye. You’ve done us a great service, Gavin. And we owe you our thanks for trying to reason with Ramsey. But we have to face him. He’s not going to leave Boston of his own accord, and none of us is safe so long as he remains here.”
The old man took a long breath. “I should come with you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I know. But if something happens to one of you, and I’m not there, I’ll never forgive myself. I’m not brave. We both know that. But I need to do this.”
Ethan’s gaze strayed to Janna. She nodded, but Ethan saw some reluctance in her dark eyes.
“All right.” He marked the position of the sun, which had already begun its descent across the western sky. “We’ve learned to conjure together, to combine our power. We don’t have time to teach you. I want to face Ramsey during the day, when he can’t call up his army of shades. So you’ll watch us and learn, or you’ll have to conjure on your own and hope that some of your spells work.”
“That’s fine,” Gavin said.
“Does this mean we’re ready to go?” Sephira asked, sounding a bit like a bored child.
“Aye.” Ethan stepped closer to her. “You and your men need to take the fight to Ramsey’s crew. Leave the captain himself to us. You can’t beat him with blades and bullets.”
“Why, Ethan, one might almost think you were worried about me.”
Ethan didn’t so much as quirk a corner of his mouth. “I don’t want him dead, at least not until he has released the shades he controls.”
“That doesn’t matter to me.”
“It matters to me. I’m serious, Sephira.”
She didn’t flinch under his gaze; her eyes were like chips of ice. “So am I.”
“Fight the crew,” he said again. “Let us handle Ramsey.”
Sephira said nothing, but at last she gave a single curt nod.
A Plunder of Souls (The Thieftaker Chronicles) Page 30
