The Death Dealer - The Complete Series
Page 38
“And what do you know of that?” On a good day, Jack had no patience for meddling fools. After spending the morning locked up and the afternoon in front of a lord, he was ready to let his temper take over.
“That she loved you and you didn’t deserve it.”
Jack stopped to really look at Nathaniel. He’d always looked on the sergeant as a naïve young man with delusions of grandeur; soft and foolish. But looking over at him now, he saw the scar under his eye, marking him as a fighter and a survivor. His eyes were warm but calculating. He carried himself with a stubborn chin held high and squared off shoulders.
Life tried to beat him back and failed. More’s the pity, Jack thought.
Nathaniel sized Jack up as well. The man who stood beside him was known for brawling, but he held himself with the same noble bearing Grace did. His features were harsh, with worry lines creasing around his eyes and mouth. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, quiet and strong. He could have made a fine captain of the Guard, Nathaniel thought, if he weren’t so sour and cold hearted.
“And you think she was foolish to give me her love?” Jack asked, resuming his walk. He turned them off course. Nathaniel wouldn’t lie, not like Marcus. If he said Grace was gone, she was gone.
“I think she was foolish to continue giving it when it was clear you were naught but a knave.”
“Why do you care if a barmaid gives her heart to a rogue such as myself? Surely you couldn’t have been in love with her?”
“No, but I liked her and I wanted to know her better. It seems unfair you ruined such a fine young lady.”
Jack frowned. He did do that, didn’t he? Sweet thing. She learned hard lessons from her own foolishness, but that didn’t mean she needed him mucking about with her feelings, too.
“Now she’s gone. She was a sweet, loving girl, who did no harm to anyone,” Nathaniel continued.
Jack came to the doors of the Emerald and produced his pipe from his pocket. He kept a pouch of pipe weed in a leather pouch at his hip, so he quietly stuffed the pipe; letting the pipe hang loosely in his fingers. He’d light it when he went inside.
“Have you had much experience with young ladies, Sergeant?”
Nathaniel looked insulted. “If you think I would—”
“Not in so sordid a manner. I mean, are you aware of the layers of a woman?” Noting the continued look of disgust, Jack rolled his eyes and sighed. “A woman, especially one as tenacious as Grace, has secrets below the surface. A woman who gets into the ring against a knight isn’t likely to be as sweet and harmless as you suppose. Do yourself a favor…put Grace out of your head. Find a girl who really is as sweet as all that.”
Nathaniel scowled. “Master Anders,” he said dismissively; clicking his heels together and stalking off.
Jack went into the Emerald. The place was normally deserted this time of day, and today was no exception with only the tavernkeep and his son around. Jack nodded to them both and lit his pipe. He thought about his conversation with Sergeant Moore. He should listen carefully to his own advice and put Grace Hilren from his mind. Though he hadn’t been able to for months, so why start now?
~*~*~
Ridley built up a fire in the kitchen of Marcus’s house while Marcus and Thom were tearing through Grace’s lodging down at Seafarer's Way, looking for any sign of the Death Dealer. Grace was spotted leaving Glenbard, and Marcus went into a white-hot rage when someone told him. At first he suspected Jack was behind it, but Jack was being held in the lockup and was just as surprised at the news. Something Ridley would fix soon, but first the fire.
She threw the hood into the flames. Grace gave Ridley the rest of her Death Dealer garb, and she’d hidden those away until she could dispose of them as well. For now the black hood burned, smoking dreadfully. It didn’t matter. Marcus could rage all he liked. Grace deserved a chance to get a head start without such damning evidence left behind.
~*~*~
When Marcus flipped the little wooden bed frame over in his rage, Grace’s landlady complained loudly in his ear over the noise and the mess. His goodwill toward fellow citizens had completely faded since Grace’s surprise attack the night before. Thom stood by somberly; letting the King of Thieves rage and destroy everything he could get his hands on.
“Shut your damn mouth, wench!” Marcus bellowed, giving the frame a kick as well.
“Listen here! You may be the sad little king of a sad little kingdom on the Lane, but this is my house. I’ll fetch the Guard for all the damage you’ve caused!”
“And I’ll slam your head in the wall!” Marcus made a move to grab her, but Thom put himself between thief and landlady.
Thom exchanged a few hushed words with Mistress Fischer and the flash of gold passed from his fingers to hers. He gently backed her out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Grace’s former room had been ripped apart. What clothes she couldn’t take with her were in tatters all along the floor. The desk was broken and her personal letters were thrown about the room. Thom had never seen his friend in such a rage. Even now, Marcus’s face was deep red and his chest heaved with anger. Sweat drenched his shirt.
“Come along, Marcus. She’s not coming back.”
“Oathbreaker,” Marcus whispered under his breath. “She’ll be punished in this life or the next for that.”
Aloud Thom agreed, but inwardly he didn’t. He liked Grace and knew she always strove to be virtuous. He helped her because he knew that Marcus would regret harming her once he eventually came to his senses. Marcus had never harmed a woman – never even slapped one – and he wasn’t about to let his friend start now; especially on a woman that he knew, deep down, Marcus still considered to be a friend.
What happened to Adam and what should have happened to Harris…those were things that were meant to restore the balance. Those Guild members committed a serious wrong, but they deserved to be punished in the most humane of ways. Killing a man cleanly to spare him from a worse fate wasn’t something Grace understood. In her eyes it wasn’t righting a wrong or stopping torture; it was murder. For her there was no room for gray, only black and white. She was the Death Dealer because she wanted to see good everywhere, or else root it out where it wasn’t. The poor lass didn’t understand the life Marcus led, and for his part, Marcus didn’t understand hers.
Thom steered Marcus from the room. He, at least, saw the shades of gray.
~*~*~
Grace struck out from the merchant family on the second day; changing courses and making for Egona. She knew her friend Henry would welcome her and help her get transport to Arganis. The road was lonely and she listened intently for others. She passed a few people, waved politely, and continued on without a word.
Behind her, coming up fast, were the hooves of a horse. She stepped off the road to wait and Jack reigned in a brown gelding next to her. She was pleased to see a sheathed sword attached to the saddle, as she had forgotten her weapon in Glenbard in her rush to leave. Jack returned it now.
She took in the gelding he rode. It hung its head when Jack stopped it, wanting nothing more than to graze, but there he was, forced to ride. Grace patted his muzzle. Jack sold his sweet natured horse, Pilgrim, to a merchant before he first abandoned Grace. The brown beast he rode now was old and sad, but it was probably all he could afford. She knew the poor animal wouldn’t be able to carry them both. Jack dismounted.
“Would you like to ride while I lead? Your feet must be tired.”
“I’m fine. Did you destroy my note?” She had written her plans to Jack and let Ridley deliver them, knowing he’d come as soon as possible. Although she’d assumed he wouldn’t catch up until after she arrived in Egona. She didn’t expect him to have a horse.
He wrapped an arm around her. “Of course. I felt the anger in the air as clearly as I smell this horse. I didn’t leave anything for anyone to find. So…Arganis?”
“I should go home, at least for a while. I’ve given up making trouble.”
“Why?” She wasn’t surprised, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
“I love you and I don’t want you to leave me. I barely survived when I left you, fool and coward that I was. I have nothing left back there if you go.”
She took his hand and took the reins of the horse in her other hand, and started walking again. “I love you too, but I don’t want you to come.”
He didn’t break his hold, but his hand went limp in hers. She compensated by holding on tighter, lacing her fingers into his. “Not yet, anyway. I want to be away from Glenbard and all its reminders for a little while, and I also want to be sure I truly want you there, and not just because I’m lonely.” Her heart had never healed. She idly wondered that if it had, would she have been so welcoming of having Jack’s affections again? “I’ll write you, and when the time is right, you can join me.”
“I understand, but if you take too long I’ll come up on my own.” Grace looked at him and saw his smile. She knew he would come to see her, to try to protect her if nothing else.
She smiled back. The road ahead was uncertain, but for now he would go with her. She turned her mind to the walk. No sense dreading the past and future at the same moment.
Grace of the Goddess
Book 3
by Katie Roman
When Grace Hilren fled the city of Glenbard she left the alias of Death Dealer behind her. Living in relative peace in her home of Arganis word reaches her that someone else has taken up her old identity and used it to murder a Glenbard city magistrate. The disaster seems too far away to do anything about until it makes its way to Arganis. Suddenly Grace finds herself at the center of a plot that could get her and everyone she loves charged with treason.
Back in Glenbard Jack and Ridley watch as the city they love falls apart amid tensions. The people are starving, the Thieves’ Guild is breaking apart, and now the only magistrate holding the city together has been murdered. When Jack’s past catches up to him he finds himself in a unique position to keep Glenbard from descending into complete chaos. With a country between them can Grace and her friends survive long enough to be reunited?
To Amy, for all the adventures ahead of us
One
It had been over a year since the Death Dealer's last sighting in the port city of Glenbard. Fifteen months, in fact, although stories filtered in from across Cesernan of the figure in the executioner's hood. The Dealer captured bandits in Escion, rode down thieves in Egona, and even tracked a kidnapper through Actis. Good deeds were done across the land, but none within the city of Glenbard.
Ridley Hunewn, Princess of the Thieves' Guild, knew why no sightings occurred in Glenbard. The city guards burned the Death Dealer in effigy, and the Guild put a bounty on the vigilante's head. Even those pretending to be the Dealer weren’t foolish enough to try their hand at playing hero in Glenbard, and it was all because one fool killed a guard. The Guard and Guild both wanted the murderer brought to their own brand of justice, but the Death Dealer caught him first. Caught him, and then quietly ended the fool’s life without starting a war in the city.
The self-proclaimed princess owed a debt to the Dealer and had aided in her escape from Glenbard. She burned the Dealer’s executioner's hood and kept the whereabouts of her friend a secret. As the months passed, flared tempers soothed, but tension still remained. Guild and Guard circled each other like wild dogs, each one testing the other's power. A return of the Death Dealer would be a torch lighting a powder keg. It would be last summer all over again.
So it was surprising when Ridley spied a hooded figure roaming around during the late watches. Ridley went to investigate. Certainly she hasn't returned, Ridley thought, trailing her quarry. She'd never risk it. Her role as the silent watcher of Glenbard is over.
The streets were mostly deserted this time of night. Even the lamps were extinguished; these were the hours to be asleep. It was a cool night, where breaths hung in the air like little white clouds and any sane person was in bed and wrapped in blankets. Clouds moved slowly over the moon and stars, allowing only brief beams of light to touch the ground.
Ridley slipped from her hiding place when the Death Dealer crossed into the Golden Road district. The area was in the heart of the city, primarily housing the city's temples, but the city magistrates and members of nobility kept houses there as well.
The supposed Dealer bypassed the temples and made a path for the noble homes, which were located some blocks away. The area was once the castle grounds for the king, before the formal palace was moved further inland to Ursana. The grounds were surrounded by a tall stone wall with several towers that provided housing for visiting nobility. The lands were owned by the crown, but his court was allotted personal rooms. The city magistrates also took up residency within the grounds, with their wings acting as ugly additions. The additions were not the handcrafted stone from the quarries in the south, with their marbled columns and stained glass picture windows. They were stone houses; cool in the summer, warm in the winter, but they lacked the beautiful craftsmanship and refinement the castle once had. The magistrates' homes were built for functionality alone: stone, two stories tall, with bedrooms enough for a family and their servants. They had large dining rooms, offices, and sewing rooms, though they were not as nice as the rooms in the old castle reserved for nobles looking for a reprieve from court. One of these functional homes belonged to Duke Brayden, the queen's brother and the chief magistrate. It served as the seat of power in Glenbard.
Ridley watched from the shadows just beyond the enclosure. She had never seen anyone scale the wall before. The Guild harried the merchants, but never the nobles. It was too risky. The magistrates had their own guards directly from the king, not the rabble that signed up for the city watch. To enter the old castle grounds uninvited was to court a traitor’s death. However, the black clad figure hurried over the wall.
Ridley checked for any followers of her own. She ran from her hiding place and scurried forward, keeping low to the ground. At the wall she ran her hand over the stone. Under her fingers the hard surface was smooth and cool, but here and there grooves were chiseled in. Not the chips of time, but well-spaced holds. Someone had put them there.
Overhead the moon made an appearance from behind the clouds. Ridley pressed her body against the wall. For a moment the ground and wall were illuminated by the soft white light, but the moon's glow was fleeting. The clouds rolled back into position, blocking the light once more. Putting her hands on the stone holds, Ridley climbed up.
Once she reached the top she let herself drop to the ground, and pain snaked up her body from the impact. She cursed under her breath, rubbing her legs. The drop didn’t look so far a moment ago.
Ridley crouched low to survey the area. The courtyard to the old castle was lined with beech trees. The first king of Cesernan loved trees, which was why the city was surrounded by forest. The king originally had it planted to use as a private hunting ground. When the king’s official castle moved inland the forest remained, as did the trees in the courtyard. Ridley wasn’t in the habit of thanking dead men, but she thanked the first king now. The foliage provided cover as she moved from trunk to trunk following her quarry.
She hugged a trunk, catching sight of the Dealer farther up the path. She balled her hands into fists. There the Dealer stood, bold as could be, despite the sizable bounty upon that hooded head. A second figure came up the path, careful not to make too much noise. His long dressing robes skimmed across the ground as he walked. The two exchanged hushed words.
Ridley became frustrated that she wasn’t able to hear their conversation. She scanned the area for a better vantage point, one that would allow her to hear them, but without giving herself away. It did not appear such a spot existed. She stayed flattened against the trunk, hoping they would talk louder for h
er benefit.
The two spoke in hurried and hushed tones. She noticed this Death Dealer stood level with the robed man. The real Dealer, the one Ridley counted among her friends, was short; much shorter than the man in the robes. Any doubts Ridley had about her friend were erased. This Dealer was an imposter.
Above them the moon reappeared, and Ridley sidled around the tree trunk to better conceal herself in shadow. It was a futile act, however, as neither figure noticed their surroundings; they stood still enthralled in their conversation. With the moon out, Ridley was awarded a glimpse of the second figure. His white hair fell to his shoulders and there was a hideous scar over his left eye socket. This robed figure was none other than Duke Brayden. Ridley would know that ugly, empty eye anywhere. But what business did he have with the imposter?
By the waving of the duke’s hands, Ridley guessed he was extremely angry with the nature of this meeting. He flapped about like a great bird trying to take flight. Humorous though it was, it was unbecoming for a man of his station. She stifled a laugh at the duke’s movements. The man pointed an angry finger in the Dealer’s face, yet the hooded figure remained impassive to the display.
A glint of steel in the moonlight brought Ridley’s attention completely to the Dealer. A dagger appeared between the men.
“So this is how I am repaid?” The duke’s arms dropped to his side. His voice carried, growing louder with his anger. “It is illegal to bribe a magistrate, and that law extends to everyone.” In the guardhouse down the path, near the courtyard’s front gate, candles flared to life. The duke’s voice had attracted attention.
“No one is above the law, Death Dealer,” he growled. “Not you and not your kennel master. I have erred and am duly punished. May Ciro and Kamaria show mercy, and may Diggery show me the path to light.”
Behind him, armed guards emerged from the gatehouse. The Death Dealer said nothing as he drove the dagger to the hilt into the duke’s chest. Ridley gasped, but her voice was lost in the screams of the guards who ran up the path. The duke grabbed his wound and slumped down to his knees, teetering for a few moments before falling onto his back. The Dealer ran for the wall.