The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  Grace turned away and caught sight of Ridley across the tavern. She waved excitedly to Grace.

  “Now that she’s found you, you’ll never get her to shut up.”

  Grace snapped her attention back to Jack. “If being rude and bitter is your choice then fine, but you shouldn’t try to bring the rest of us down into your rut. Ridley is a sweet girl and has been kind enough to show me around. What reason do I have to want her to be quiet?”

  “I’m just telling you – once she starts, she won’t stop.” Jack took a puff from his pipe. “I find it all very funny that someone as proper as you is becoming friends with someone as low as Ridley.” Grace gave Jack a nasty glare. “Ridley’s a nice kid, but you two aren’t exactly from the same game.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Jack looked around and got out of his chair. He leaned over the table and hung his face in Grace’s. “I’m no fool. I was once a stable hand for the King, and I saw all the knights. You don’t have to play this game with me, Grace. You’re from Arganis; your accent proves it to any who would doubt. But you have Lady Dedre’s nose and you have Lord Daniel’s eyes: little gray orbs of malice, and his deceptively tiny ears that no doubt catch all rumors to use for blackmail. Whatever you did to get out of court must have been very daring or very stupid.”

  Grace wanted to respond, but her voice was stuck in her throat as Jack’s green eyes bore down on her. She wished she could speak, yell, or simply throw things in his direction. She did none of those things; she just continued to glare at him.

  “Jack! Leave poor Grace alone!” Ridley’s voice cut through their tense stare-down. Jack backed away from the table and returned to his own seat.

  “I was just having a chat with your new friend.”

  “She doesn’t want to chat with you,” Ridley snapped. She placed a plate of potatoes and fish down in front of Grace. “It’s the cook’s specialty. It’s actually all he can make that doesn’t taste rotten.”

  Grace forced a smile and dug into her plate. Ridley chatted on and on, but Grace didn’t hear any of it. Her eyes kept straying toward Jack, who openly watched her with interest.

  “Don’t be bothered by him,” Ridley finally said. “He likes to ruffle feathers. He’s really quite harmless.”

  Grace pushed her plate away. “I’m sorry, I have lost my appetite. I am going for a walk.”

  Ridley nodded and Grace rose from her seat. “You scared her away!” she heard Ridley say when she was some feet away.

  ~*~*~

  Diggery’s temple was deserted, so Grace sat near the altar with her head bowed. She certainly needed guidance, especially after her encounter with Jack. How was it possible for one person to get so far under her skin? She had never before been so irritated by a person so quickly. He said her eyes were filled with malice...no, filled with malice just like her father’s. And ears that caught rumors for blackmail? What was that supposed to mean? Anders stood there and made dreadful assumptions about her father.

  This sort of thing never would have happened back at court. Then again, the people at court would have been fake and sweet to her face while chatting behind her back. Did this mean Jack’s honesty was a mixed blessing?

  Grace began cursing her choices. Her choice to train like Calvin, her choice to enter the sword ring in his stead, her choice to come here. What did she do to her life?

  Someone sneezed in the back of the temple and Grace lifted her head and looked around. A girl not much older than seventeen was in the back. She was quite tall, with straight black hair that fell well past her shoulders and flawless skin of a dusky hue. She wore black breeches and a long, black, buttoned-up riding jacket, though Grace saw a white shirt peeking out underneath. What really caught Grace’s attention were her deep purple eyes. Grace had seen the same color at dusk, when the sun’s light was chased out for the soft light of the moon and stars. And like the twilight purple of the sky, this young woman’s eyes went on forever.

  “I am very sorry to disturb your prayers. I am meeting someone here and it is rare to find others around during the evenings. And here I thought I would have the temple to myself.”

  Grace smiled and shook her head. “It’s no trouble. I was going to leave soon.”

  The young woman walked up the aisle and slid in next to Grace. “Mind if I join you until you do? It’s nice to have company while I wait.”

  “Please have a seat. It is always nice to meet someone new.”

  The woman smiled and looked toward the altar. Unlike the temples of Ciro and Kamaria, there were no statues of Diggery in human form. Grace had only ever seen Diggery depicted in animal form. Since her image was rare in Arganis, Grace always assumed her lack of human form was due to her lack of followers so far north. Diggery was always shown in the form of a great black wolf in Arganis and it seemed to be the same here. On the altar there was a statue of a prone black wolf. Someone had obviously been in recently and adorned it with a wreath of red roses. It seemed to make the wolf more approachable.

  “It always makes me wonder why Diggery comes as a wolf,” Grace finally said. “She picks an animal many fear and hate, yet she comes and comforts them.”

  The woman shrugged. “What the gods do is a mystery to mortals, I suppose.” She turned to Grace and held out her hand. “My name is Kit.”

  “Grace.”

  “Are you new to Glenbard?”

  “I just arrived this morning.”

  “Ah, it is not as bad as many elsewhere say. I’ve heard the word uncivilized thrown around a lot, or cesspool. Glenbard is as clean as any other port city, but its reputation remains. I visit here every few years, and out of the other port cities I enter, this one is one of the nicer ones. The Fishermen’s Collective keeps murders down because they cannot stand people killing their workers or their families. It was not always so, but these days Marcus sees to it. Other cities have just let the murderers take control until honest, hard-working people refuse to live there.”

  “Have you traveled much? You don’t look old enough to have seen the world yet.”

  “My father is a sailor. I used to go harbor to harbor with him, but now I travel about on my own. The wandering life can be good, though I must admit it is not for everyone. It is full of danger and a great deal of uncertainty. I go weeks without knowing where my next meal shall come from. And the diseases men endure at sea! Descriptions of such are not suited to polite company. I always tell people to stay home if death, disease and blood worry them.” Kit smiled.

  Before the woman came in, Grace was praying for guidance on whether or not she should just sail from Cesernan altogether, but Kit’s words shook her dream of sailing to the core. The very mention of blood and death brought her back to the dead man. His blood tried to drown her in dreams most nights, and she wasn’t ready to see the bloated corpses of sailors. Without intending to, Kit gave Grace advice on her next move in Glenbard.

  Someone cleared his throat in the back of the temple. Grace and Kit both turned and saw Jack Anders. “You came.” Kit turned back to Grace and said, “Jack is an old family friend. You should stay and chat with us. I always make it a point to visit him when I am in Glenbard. Come join us, Jack.”

  “I should be going.” Grace rose from her seat and brushed quickly past Jack. As she reached the door, she turned back to Kit. “A pleasure meeting you, miss. Maybe I will have a chance to see you before you wander on.”

  “I am sure we will. Good night, Grace.”

  ~*~*~

  Grace sat on Donald’s bed as he paced the room. Donald underestimated the cost of an apprenticeship in Glenbard. If they were to survive their first few weeks in Glenbard, they couldn’t afford the opportunity for Donald to apprentice with a carpenter or anyone else, for that matter. He heard of a few merchant ships sailing to the Nareroc Islands that were looking for able-bodied men. The islands were located between Cesernan and Sera and were famous for their spices. Both countries claimed various parts of the islands, an
d a great deal of trade took place there.

  If Donald took a job on one of the ships, it would take him a week to sail to the islands, a week to help load and gather what was needed, and then a week to return home; weather permitting, of course. When Donald told her, Grace encouraged him to go, but the former manservant was hesitant.

  “In Arganis we had Cassandra to protect you, but here you only have me. If you were to go out one night and get wounded with your...duty, and I was gone, who would help you? Who would take you to a healer?”

  “I am capable of watching over myself. You should take a position on one of the merchant ships. The money will be good, and we can’t live on what Calvin gave to us forever.”

  “They always have spots open for young men on those ships, so I have plenty of time to decide. I’d rather not go. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I left and something horrible happened to you. We are in a more dangerous area than Arganis.”

  “Donald, sleep on it.” Grace reached out and took his elbow, and he stopped pacing for a moment. “We both know you should take it. Just think about it tonight. The answer will come to you, and I think you already know what it is.”

  Grace wished Donald a good night and returned to her room. She had planned to go out and watch the Thieves Guild, but decided it would not be in her best interest to ruin the bet on herself. There would be time for The Death Dealer in the weeks to come, but now was not it. She needed to learn Glenbard first so she could move easily when night fell.

  ~*~*~

  “You shouldn’t tell anyone what you know about that Grace girl, Jack. I saw her banishment when Frederick called for her hanging. Why cause the poor child any more stress?” Kit said as Jack rose from his seat in the temple. The two had spent the last two hours catching up on one another’s lives. Mostly Jack spoke while Kit listened. Now at the end, he told her about Grace.

  “She has done a brave thing,” Kit said softly.

  “A stupid thing, sounds like. Donning her cousin’s armor? Where’s the bravery in such a stupid act?”

  “She did it knowing the consequences, and showed the court she was not just a breeder. Foolhardy, yes, but still brave. Don’t punish her for that.”

  “She doesn’t belong here, Kit,” Jack protested. “She’s probably just like all those other women in court; all the ones I knew when I still served under Frederick. Grace should just go to some small farming village, marry, and have babies. It was her path in life when she was still in Arganis. Why change it because she’s not nobility anymore?”

  “You do not know her path,” Kit said. “And you most certainly should not drive her away from Glenbard.”

  “I can’t think of a reason why I shouldn’t.”

  Jack turned to leave. As usual, his visit with Kit ended with him in a foul mood. “I can think of a good reason.” Jack stopped and waited for what she would say.

  “She is not Danielle.”

  Jack turned around slowly and met Kit’s gaze. “What did you say?”

  “You think Grace is like Danielle. I can tell, even without you mentioning her name. It has been eight years, Jack. Not all ladies of the world are the same. And look at Grace – already she has proven she is a better person. She has not submitted to her grief like others who have fallen on the same bad luck. She could be your friend, Jack. Do not let your grief and hate consume you like so many before you. You would do well to learn from her.”

  Jack bowed his head and walked briskly out the temple door. Anger and confusion boiled beneath the surface. He wanted to burst through the doors at the Angel and scream Grace’s secret to everyone inside, but he couldn’t. As the tavern came into sight, something held him back.

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath and continued to walk. He headed down to the docks, sat at the water’s edge and watched the moon travel across the night sky.

  Six

  The world was still dark when Grace dressed in the clothes she took from Calvin. She quietly closed her door and tiptoed past Donald’s room and down into the common room. Only Jim was up and about, getting things ready for the tavern’s breakfast.

  “Mornin’, Grace,” he said as she moved past his desk. “Let me take you out to meet Mayhew.”

  Grace followed Jim Little. It was impossible for her to read him, but she wanted to know on what side he fell in regards to the bet. Was he one of the folks saying she’d fail outright, or did he have faith? Did he hire her only for amusement’s sake? Jim said nothing as he took her out to the stables and led her to an old, gray-haired man, starting to bend with age, who eyed Grace with suspicion. “I want a boy to work here!” he snapped at Jim. “This girl is too scrawny to do the work, and she’ll fall in love with any male who boards a horse here.”

  “No one in Glenbard is going to work for you, so I had to hire a willing stranger,” Jim snapped back. “Besides, young Grace here is a good solid worker; you can tell by the honesty in her face.” He must have a wager that she'd last. Jim pushed Grace forward and she slowly extended her hand to Mayhew.

  He looked at it as though she were diseased and pointed to a line of stalls, five on each side. “Start mucking those out until I tell you to stop or you finish!” He pushed a shovel and a pail into her hands. “Do it now!”

  When mid-morning crept up on them, Grace had thoroughly cleaned three of the ten stalls. She would have done more, except Mayhew was never satisfied with her work and she continually went back to redo them.

  Mayhew went off to enjoy a mid-morning meal and Grace grumbled as she entered the next stall. The horse in this stall was a proud looking gelding. Grace had never seen a horse so fine in all her years. It had a finely kept brown coat and looked at Grace with thoughtful brown eyes. As she entered his stall the gelding stepped toward her, nuzzled her breast and nipped her shirt; hoping to find food.

  She gently patted his muzzle and laughed. “Sorry, boy…I don’t have anything for you.” The horse didn’t seem to understand and continued to inspect Grace’s clothing for food. “Do you have a name, you sweet animal?”

  “Pilgrim.” Grace looked over the stall wall and saw Marcus, the man Ridley called the King of the Thieves Guild. This was the man Grace would need to watch the most in order to understand exactly how the Guild operated. Up close, like Ridley, he was softer. He smiled. Looking at him now, she wondered how such a kindly looking man could have become the King of Thieves through murder and treachery.

  She wasn’t sure how to address him so she bowed her head in respect. “Is he your horse, sir—er, Majesty?”

  Marcus laughed at Grace’s attempt to flatter him. “You can just call me Marcus, girl. The ‘King of Thieves’ title is just to scare off rogue thieves. And no, I wish I could claim Pilgrim as mine, but he’s not. That horse belongs to Jack Anders.”

  Grace looked over the horse again. How could that be possible?

  “Strange, I know. How can such a well mannered horse belong to someone as resentful as Jack? No one really knows. He used to be a stable hand for Frederick, and this horse must have been a parting gift.”

  “I wasn’t just any stable hand; I was King Frederick’s best stable hand at his castle in Ursana. And I was given that horse before he was weaned from his mother. No one expected Pilgrim to grow into the horse he is now, and many are kicking themselves for giving him up so willingly.”

  “Such a touching tale, Jack.” Marcus clapped him on the back and laughed some more. “But it’s still a marvel that horse didn’t take on your demeanor. It’s loving and kind; so unlike you.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t try to make him mean, Marcus.”

  Marcus laughed again. “Whatever you say, Jack,” he said, and bowed his head to Grace. “Enjoy mucking out the rest of the stables here. Do a good job, and someday Mayhew may warm up to you. If not, replace the feathers in his pillow with some dung.” With a wink and a smile, Marcus turned and left.

  Grace glared at Jack when Marcus was out of sight. “What do you want?”
<
br />   “I’m here to make sure nothing happens to my horse,” he said as he grabbed a saddle and bridle. He clearly wanted to take the horse out for a ride. “What does a girl like you know about mucking out stalls?”

  “You think you’re so smart, Jack Anders. You think I am just some stupid girl who was disgraced; that I cannot take care of myself. But I will have you know I am capable of watching over myself. There are plenty who did care about me and they’re still my friends, despite the fact I have been reduced to mucking out stables.”

  “Friends that care about you?” Jack laughed and it left Grace feeling cold and yet, at the same time, white hot with anger. “Friends, you say. Tell me then, a pretty thing like yourself – what boy, what friend in court loved you and then left you when you were exiled? What ‘man’ of the court allowed you to be reduced to this?” Grace’s thoughts ran to Tristan and how he acted as she left in shame. Jack picked up on Grace’s thoughts and feelings. “What did he say when you left? What cruel thing did he utter in your ear as you walked by, completely disgraced? What brave knight was he?”

  Grace choked back tears as thoughts of Tristan’s cruelty came back to mind. She hoped to be strong and forget him, but Jack’s words coaxed it out of her.

  “Sir Benjamin? No, he never showed affection, only received it. Sir Thomas? Nah, he never shows interest in young ladies. Perhaps Sir Tristan of Escion?” Grace clenched her jaw and balled her fists. “Yes, there it is. I knew him. He was like his father; arrogant and selfish. Though he charmed the women by putting on a sweet face. His reputation was not so innocent when it came to pretty faces.” Jack walked into the stall and circled Grace; putting the saddle aside. “It doesn’t surprise me you were in his sights, and it doesn’t surprise me you returned the attraction. You’re just like the rest. Tristan might have married you, but he would have cast you aside like his father threw his mother aside.” Jack stepped closer. “After a few children, you would be no more to Tristan than one of his hunting dogs or his horses. But looking at you now, I suppose he already sees you as such.”