The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  “In the name of the king, you are under arrest.” Grace recognized the voice. “I am wise to your tricks now, ever since you gave me the slip while I hunted Harris Atkins.”

  “Captain Erickson,” Grace said, keeping as calm as she could while Erickson knelt on her back, forcing the air from her lungs.

  “I can’t have you disturbing the peace, now can I?”

  Grace gasped in pain. Her vision swam and she couldn’t get her hands free. Erickson held them tightly behind her back.

  “Not so tough without your sword,” he laughed. He put his whistle to his mouth, blowing it near her ears.

  The ringing drowned out all other noise. Erickson got off her back, secured leather ties around her wrists, and pulled her roughly to her feet.

  “And to think you slipped away from me as the Death Dealer at one time.”

  Grace dug her feet into the ground, forcing Erickson to drag her. “You swore an oath to protect the people of Glenbard. How can you stand by and let them starve?” she said.

  “I also swore an oath to His Majesty, if you will recall.” Erickson grunted and tried to move Grace.

  She made herself into dead weight, sinking to the ground as Erickson tried to keep her upright. “You know Frederick and Robert are in the wrong. They would risk what few resources Cesernan has for a war, while Sera is strong and well-fed.”

  Erickson blew his whistle again, calling for aid. He let Grace sit in the dirt, tired of trying to force her up. “I’ll get a fine post in this city for my dutiful service.”

  “The people will rip you apart before they see you commended for allowing innocent citizens to be murdered by guards.”

  Erickson struck Grace in the jaw and she felt the salty tang of blood on her tongue. It was no use to reason with the Guard captain. He blew his whistle again. No one had come yet. Either his men were distracted by Thom and Kay, or they chose to ignore his summons for help. The Emerald was in the Seafarer’s district and Erickson was far out of his jurisdiction.

  Grace screamed at the top of her lungs, “To me, people of Glenbard! Protect your queen!”

  It caught Erickson off guard, and he stumbled away from her. He recovered quickly, kicking Grace in the chest. She fell backwards and gasped for breath, unable to repeat her cry. Erickson bent down, grabbing her by the front of her shirt.

  “That’s enough out of you.”

  Grace’s hands were tied, but her feet were free. She kicked at Erickson’s knees and he fell to the ground.

  “She’s over here!” a man’s voice cried. Grace looked up to see torches illuminating the alley. She continued to wheeze, trying to find her breath and to work through the pain of Erickson’s kick. If these were the guards finally coming to his aid, she was done for.

  A crowd came into the alley from the street, led by Mayhew, the stable master at the Angel. They were armed with whatever they could find; brooms, bricks, fishing nets, tools. The crowd moved like an ungainly beast, snarling and bloodthirsty, and the beast had set its sights on Erickson, who sat in the dirt clutching his knee.

  “Kill ‘im!” Mayhew cried. “He tried to kill Grace!”

  Grace hobbled forward, putting herself between Erickson and the crowd. “No!” she wheezed. She coughed, fighting to clear her throat. “I have more important plans for him!”

  ~*~*~

  Erickson was bound and gagged, mutely awaiting his punishment. Grace and Thom stood over him. They were hidden away in the empty cellar of Glenda’s dress shop, which smelled of fresh dirt. It was also much colder than it was in the shop proper. Upstairs Kay stood watch, pretending to be an apprentice, while Glenda ran her business as usual. A single torch burned near the stairs.

  “I think you’ve found a way to hit the Serenity Place guard house,” Thom quipped.

  “He has the keys to the grain stores, too,” Grace said, holding up a small slip of paper. “Or so Nathaniel’s note says.” She had the captain’s keys hooked to her own belt.

  Grace had yet to make contact with Nathaniel or Ridley. Her plans the night before had been halted when she captured Erickson and brought him to Glenda’s. She spent the rest of the night fending off rogues looking to kill the Guard captain. Her body felt weighed down from lack of sleep, but she refused to give anyone an opening to undermine her.

  Erickson glared up at her, breathing loudly under his gag.

  “What do you plan to do with him?” Thom asked.

  “Lock him up at the guard house, eventually. For now, we will keep him here under constant guard until we are ready to make our move.”

  “Do you have anyone you trust enough to guard him?”

  “Glenda and her nephew will watch him, and I will keep watch myself when I can.”

  Thom said nothing, but Grace knew him well enough to guess his thoughts. Too many people wanted Erickson dead to be able to keep him safe, but Grace wasn’t about to let him die.

  “Have you heard anything this morning about his capture?” she said quietly.

  Grace heard the rustle of clothing in the dim cellar and knew Thom shrugged his response. “Some of the soldiers stationed around know he’s missing, and the duke made a visit to the guard house about it.”

  “Captain, you are obviously missed,” Grace said. “Cooperate, and we will get you home alive.” She rubbed her jaw, which still stung from the blow she received from Erickson. It had blossomed into a lovely purple color, as did her chest. There was also a dull pain when she drew in breath. Her body was bruised from her tumble with the captain, but she’d survive.

  Erickson grumbled loudly under his gag and Grace was glad she couldn’t hear whatever profanities and insults he hurled at her. She turned and returned to the shop with Thom following at her heels.

  Twenty-Two

  Grace, Thom, and Kay left the shop together and walked in silence from Glenda’s toward the city graveyard. As they left Merchant’s Way and wound through Serenity Place, people began to join them. Guards and soldiers watched, but kept a distance. Grace wondered at this, but didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries with them about it. Either Robert had something up his sleeve, or he was willing to let them bury Marcus in peace. She was prepared if he planned to waylay them at the graveyard; she just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  They continued on, arriving in Rogue’s Lane to lead the bodiless procession past Marcus’s home. The curtains were drawn at all the windows and a wreath of flowers had been placed on the door. On his front stoop were small trinkets, more flowers, and charms people had that reminded them of the deceased. Grace had made another Death Dealer hood and it was placed on the stoop.

  Grace stopped the procession to bow to Marcus’s house, touching the first two fingers of her right hand to her forehead, a sign of respect. Others followed her lead, though no one spoke.

  The procession moved on from Marcus’s house, heading back toward the Golden Road district. From doorways and on street corners guards and soldiers continued to watch silently. Guards who were acquainted with Marcus, some whom Grace knew by look, bowed their heads and touched their fingers to their foreheads while the soldiers watched with a certain aloofness.

  A soft breeze blew up from the direction of the docks, bringing with it the salty sea air. Grace breathed it in, letting it calm her nerves as she marched onward. Though she felt her body trying to drag her down, trying to force her to sleep, the sea air breathed new life into her tired and aching muscles.

  The city’s main graveyard was located outside the city proper, but there was a small private cemetery located in the temple district. It was generally reserved for head priests and priestesses or people who changed Glenbard for the better. Kay and Grace had donated a sizable amount of coin to the Temple of Ciro for the honor of having Marcus buried there.

  The iron gates of the cemetery came into view as the crowd headed into the Golden Road district. The little plot of land was set off from Ciro’s Temple, and a yellow-robed priest met them at the gate. He opened it, bowing as he
let them pass onto hallowed ground. Another priest, a priestess of Kamaria, and a priestess of Diggery stood by a small flat tombstone set into the dirt. Next to it was a pine box, marked with holy symbols. Marcus lay inside, waiting to be entombed in dirt.

  Grace smiled sadly to see Ridley standing beside the coffin. The young woman’s blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, revealing her red-rimmed eyes, blotched cheeks, and quivering mouth. She wore a black dress that didn’t really fit her and a tattered old brown overcoat. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she watched the procession file into the graveyard. As soon as she saw Grace she moved forward, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman.

  Grace returned the hug, pulling Ridley in tightly. Tears flowed from her eyes and onto Ridley’s shoulder. She felt tears hit her head and neck as Ridley’s body shook with quiet sobs. Someone moved behind them, hugging both of them together. Grace knew Thom’s scent and didn’t move away as the three shared their grief silently.

  “We are here to honor a man held dear by many in this city,” the priest said, his voice ringing out in the brisk morning air.

  Thom pulled away first, taking Ridley’s left hand in his. Grace took her right and held fast to her. Kay came up to stand behind them.

  “He was loved by many,” the Kamarian priestess continued, her voice like a song. She motioned to the crowd and her silver robes danced in the breeze “Now he returns to the earth.”

  “But he is ever within this city,” the priestess of Diggery said, her voice husky. Since Marcus was an important part of Glenbard and Diggery was Glenbard’s patron goddess, it was only appropriate to have one of her servants present. “Kept safe in our hearts and minds.”

  “We ask those who knew the departed to sing him into the afterlife,” the priest added, nodding to Grace.

  “A swift river, flowing out to sea,” Thom began.

  “A soft voice, drifting on the breeze,” Ridley managed to barely choke out her words.

  “Past the world of the living, to be free,” Kay’s tenor was like a clear bell.

  “Move on now with ease,” Grace finished, bowing her head to let hot tears roll down her cheeks. Next to her, Ridley’s fingers tightened around Grace’s.

  The priest and priestesses continued the song. The crowd picked it up, singing Marcus’s spirit into the Realm of the Divine Twins. Grace swayed with the music. Through blurry eyes, she dared to look up at the pine box holding Marcus. A great black wolf with silver eyes stood next to it. Even Diggery herself had come to see Marcus off. Grace blinked and the wolf was gone.

  When the song ended, Thom stepped forward to stand beside the coffin. Grace put an arm around Ridley’s shoulders while Ridley covered her face and cried.

  “I owe so much to Marcus,” Thom’s voice wavered as he spoke. “We were together for nearly twenty years, and it wasn’t always easy. He had a habit of making things difficult when he thought he was in the right.” Thom smiled to himself and Grace caught the shine of tears in the sunlight as he moved his head. “But he was a good man, a decent man, and he’d have laid down his life for those he loved. I just wish he didn’t have to in the end.” Thom touched the top of the coffin. “I loved Marcus Hunewn, and he loved this city.”

  Grace heard people crying behind her. She let her own tears fall freely. She knew not many thief kings, or queens, lived to have natural deaths, but she had always envisioned Marcus dying peacefully in his bed on Rogue’s Lane. She wondered at her own end, knowing that the last three kings and queens before her had been killed and their titles usurped. Would she soon join Marcus in a pine box in the ground?

  “Today we mourn our friend,” Thom continued. “Tomorrow we set out to fix the city that took his life.” He moved away from the coffin.

  Grace let Ridley go so that she and Thom could embrace each other. She looked over her shoulder to see the assembled people bowing their heads, wiping their eyes, or staring up into the sky. Kay moved up to stand beside Grace. Her face was dry of any tears, but she looked as sad as anyone else.

  “Diggery, guide his spirit,” the priestess of Diggery said as she put her hands on the coffin’s lid.

  “Ciro, take this man into your home.” The priest laid his hands on the coffin’s lid.

  “Kamaria, welcome him into your embrace.” The last priestess did the same, and then together they chanted the Rites of the Dead for Marcus.

  Grace looked away and shut her eyes. She no longer wished to see the coffin or the tombstones surrounding her.

  ~*~*~

  Grace sat on the floor of Glenda’s shop with maps spread out before her. Ridley lay across from her. The day was finally over and Grace knew she had to work on a plan, had to decide what to do with Erickson. But she could not turn down Ridley’s request to stay with her.

  One candle burned to Grace’s left, although she didn’t dare light any others. She didn’t want anyone to know someone was staying in the shop after hours. Downstairs Erickson was silent, even without his gag. His voice had probably given out from yelling obscenities earlier in the day, or so Glenda said.

  “I am glad you killed her,” Ridley said suddenly.

  Grace looked up. Ridley’s face was masked in shadows, so Grace could not read her expression, but she didn’t like the harsh tone she heard. This was not the same carefree girl Grace had met and befriended when she first arrived in Glenbard. Grace made no comment in return, but looked back down at her maps. She didn’t want to think about Kara. The day was already filled with enough death.

  “I know you probably feel guilty, but she was ruining the city,” Ridley continued. “She had to die, and no one could get close enough to do it. And she killed Marcus. He was my father and my friend.”

  Grace leaned closer to her map of Rogue’s Lane, making note of the houses built with secret holds used by the Guild. She’d never known just how many places across the city were actually used by the Guild to keep secret stores. Thom had given her an invaluable gift when he gave her Marcus’s map collection.

  “I hope she suffered. I just wish you had let them throw her body in the fountain rather than burying her. And you should slit that Erickson fiend’s throat while you still have him in your grasp.”

  “Stop!” Grace snapped. “She is dead. She paid a high price for allying herself with Frederick and Robert. Haven’t you had enough death and misery these past few months?”

  Ridley hung her head and wiped her nose with her sleeve. Grace’s stomach turned over and a lump formed at the back of her throat.

  “I did not mean to yell, Ridley.”

  “I’m just so angry.”

  “I know. Marcus adopted you when you had no one else, and Glenbard is your home. This is not easy.”

  “Then why are you protecting our enemies?” Ridley’s eyes were shiny in the dim light.

  “I do not hold with killing. I have done it to protect people, but it is not how I want to live my life; on the edge of the blade, wondering if the Divine Twins will end me the same as I have ended others. Everyone deserves a chance to atone, Ridley. Even Kara and Erickson.”

  “She was not a good person.”

  She might have been, Grace thought. She might have been like me once. I may need the coin one day, myself. I am only a few desperate, hungry days away from hiring myself out as an assassin. “Let the dead rest. Worry about how we are going to feed the city.”

  Ridley brightened a little at this and for a brief moment, Grace saw the girl she first met almost three years ago. “You have the keys to the grain stores!”

  “I just need some clever thieves to get in and take supplies. You were with Nathaniel and Brach – do you think they’ll help?”

  “Not Moore. He is ‘on leave’ per the duke’s orders, but Brach might be able to do something. Guards from each district go in to collect rations and dispense them.”

  Grace made a note. “That is a good place to start.”

  ~*~*~

  While Grace kept watch at Glenda’s, Kay sat
on Marcus’s old “throne” at the Angel. Those who remained loyal to Marcus gathered around her, fifty men and women in all; veteran thieves, ready to punish those who kept them down in the dirt, hungry and oppressed.

  “We think you should take the throne from Gracie,” an older man named Wulfric said, taking it upon himself to be their spokesperson.

  “It has barely been five days since she killed Kara and became Queen of Thieves,” Kay remarked. She looked at the dirt under her nails, letting them see how indifferent she was to them. “Do all Glenbardians have such short memories? A few short days ago you were praising Her Majesty.”

  Wulfric rubbed the back of his neck. “Gracie is a fine girl, but she’s not a thief and she’s not from here.”

  “Have you forgotten that neither am I?”

  “You’re a pirate, and that’s just a sea thief.” There was a chorus of agreement throughout the assembled group. “Plus, you lived here for a while before taking to the sea. You’re more Glenbard than Gracie.”

  Kay rolled her eyes and fixed Wulfric with an annoyed stare. “You want me to kill Glenbard’s noblewoman? Isn’t that how you thieves operate? Kill the queen, and the usurper takes the throne?”

  Wulfric swallowed and turned a light pink. “No, she’s a nice girl, but she ain’t a queen. She protects men like Erickson when she should be guttin’ ‘em. We need a killer right now.”

  “Why don’t you take the throne then, Wulfric?” Kay stood. She was not a physically imposing figure, but Wulfric still backed away from her like she was a man-eating giant.

  “I ain’t no leader,” he replied shakily. “Everybody knows you were the most bloodthirsty captain the Fearless Dawn ever had. You wouldn’t let fiends like Erickson walk away.”

  Kay gave the crowd a wolfish grin. She started the rumors of her bloodlust so people would fear her as captain, but she was no more bloodthirsty than any captain before her. She just had a flare for the dramatic. “I will consider a coup,” she said finally. “My blade could do with some fresh blood.”