Grace of the Goddess (The Death Dealer Book 3) (16 page)

              She cocked her hip and crossed her arms over her chest. “What message?”

              “Seemingly, Jack did not trust anyone else to bring it to you. He is ordering you to stay away from the castle. If you have any requests, you are to send them through the proper channels. He looked stern when he said it, but he left out a good deal of the story, I am sure.”

              “What do you mean?” Ridley dropped her defensive pose. She knew Jack wouldn’t just send her away.

              “His Grace of Escion lurked by while Jack gave me the message, and when he says ‘proper channels’, I believe he means me. Poor sod is being made a prisoner by his own father.”

              Ridley kicked at the ground. “Jack is my friend.”

              “Be still, girl.” Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “He will be free once he does what he was paid to do. The king and duke were never going to allow him to stay in power for very long.”

              Ridley noted the frustration in Marcus’s tone when he spoke. She cut her eyes to Nathaniel and saw the annoyance and coldness wasn’t lost on him either.

              “If you will excuse me?”

              “Good evening, captain,” Marcus said and waved Nathaniel away.

              He nodded and went back the way he came, and Ridley watched him go. She wanted to send a message back with him, but didn’t know what she could say that wouldn’t send Robert of Escion to her doorstep, ready to break more bones. She settled with going back in to finish her supper in silence.

~*~*~

Nathaniel returned to the guardhouse unmolested by Marcus’s silent watchers, and that was alright by him. His own spies watched, too. Tensions remained where they had been for months, but no one did anything except watch. He preferred it that way.

              Crown documents arrived weekly at his guardhouse. They stated there were no food shortages and the harvest had gone well this year, but Nathaniel knew a lie when he heard one. Young men left the city to work the harvest and came back at the end of the season with stories. Mold in the rye, cabbages ruined by early frost, grain drowned in too much rain. Nathaniel believed the crown only meant to avoid a panic, but if rumors of war were true, then what food was left would go to feeding the army.

              He was happy to let Marcus’s thieves cut purses and break into merchant’s houses for trinkets if the King of Thieves also kept his area free of panic. Rogue’s Lane accounted for a large portion of the city, at the very heart of Glenbard, and if its people rioted it would spread easily. Nathaniel trusted most of the men under him, but there weren’t enough to quell an uprising. Marcus, on the other hand, was revered and people listened to every word he uttered. If he caught wind of a mob forming, the King of Thieves would squash it.

              Or so Nathaniel hoped. The man could just as easily lead malcontents, too, but the captain trusted that Marcus would want to avoid that. He had a strange thief code, and he followed it to the letter.

              “Evening, Captain,” the Rogue’s Lane clerk called from his desk when Nathaniel walked into the guardhouse. “A nobby man is here to see you. I asked him to wait here, but he would have none of it. He is in your office, but I did make him leave his weapons with me.”

              “Thank you. Bring us up some tea. I will see what he wants.”

              Nathaniel trudged to his office, dreading the encounter. Nobles liked to push through the door, upset about some street rat making off with their coin purse, flapping their gums and always threatening violence. While the captain understood their frustration, he didn’t see the point in throwing tantrums about it. If they would pay more in taxes, the magistrates would hire more guards.

              The man waiting in his office was old, looking much like a leather purse. He wore a sleeveless, crimson tunic made of velvet over a white linen shirt and had on black trousers. He held his cloak over his arm and sat behind Nathaniel’s desk. The captain immediately recognized him as Jack’s father. He looked as mean up close as he did lurking in the shadows of his son’s library.

              “May I help you, Your Grace?” Nathaniel had to remain standing until he was given permission to sit; however, the duke never gave it.

              “How did the thief girl take the news?” the Duke of Escion asked.

              “In frustration. She is losing a friend, but I suppose it cannot be helped.”

              “Why do you say that?”

              Nathaniel shrugged. “He is a knight, returned to his former station. Their worlds cannot entwine as they once did.”             

“True, very true. Thank you for being trustworthy enough to deliver Sir Jonathan’s message. He has a good friend in you.”

              Nathaniel wanted to say they were hardly friends. At one time, Nathaniel had wanted to court Jack’s lover; a girl who he had cast aside and then wanted back only when she was ready to move on. The knight had a strange hold on Grace’s heart and it annoyed him. Still, Jack was good enough not to taunt Nathaniel with it, but the captain didn’t think it was wise to enlighten the duke with any of this.

              “You are doing a fine job here, Captain Moore, though it seems you have not yet taken care of that ‘King of Thieves.’”

              “I have yet to actually catch the man in any wrong doing, and the magistrates will not sign a warrant for his arrest until I bring real evidence against him.”

              “It must be frustrating. That man has killed guards – your comrades – and yet he walks free. You know, coin can fix that problem.”

              Nathaniel stiffened. He let his men take bribes – the money went to their families and to widows whose husbands died in service to the city – but he didn’t take bribe money. He had taken an oath that stated he would not pervert justice by allowing himself to be bought, and the duke insulted him for thinking he could come into his office and suggest that he bribe the magistrates. Other men with money had offered Nathaniel the same thing, men he respected, and the captain turned them all away.

              “I, like the lords who rule this city, took oaths not to accept bribes. Guilty men are allowed to walk free and innocent people burn when justice is mishandled. I
do
want to arrest Marcus Hunewn, but only when I have caught him breaking the law, not because I had the victory bought. No one is above the law, Your Grace.”

              “Some folk are.”

              “I am not, and I am sorry you have wasted your time.”

              The duke waved away Nathaniel’s apology and got up from behind the desk. “You are a noble young man. Enjoy your evening, Captain.”

              Nathaniel led the duke out. He was glad to see the back of him as he walked out into the night.

~*~*~

              Robert of Escion hadn’t survived as long as he did by being discouraged. He knew Captain Moore had a reputation for being incorruptible, and although he didn’t expect much, it was worth the try. The captain wanted to bring down his thief rival, but he wanted his victory to be honest. That was alright, and to an extent Robert applauded his scruples. But he knew of someone else who wasn’t encumbered by those same scruples, and who would do whatever it took.

              Captain Ericson had been an ally of Captain Moore’s the previous summer when they prepared for war to bring down the Thieves’ Guild. Robert took one look at the Serenity Place captain and knew the man had a price.

Robert positioned himself behind the captain’s desk and Ericson didn’t protest. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands clasped behind his back, waiting patiently for the duke to speak.

              “Captain, what do you make of the ‘thief king’ Marcus?” Robert leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desk, and steepled his fingers, waiting.

              “He’s a nuisance, Your Grace, but he’s a nuisance with a following in the city. Half the families on the Lane have a member in his ranks, and those that don’t, look to him for help and guidance.”

              “And what do you think would happen if he were removed?”

              “His second, a man named Thom, might step up. If Thom didn’t, that fool he calls a daughter would.” Ericson shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

              “And would his people rise up for him?”

              “Some, maybe. There is always contention when a thief king is replaced. Marcus slit his predecessor’s throat. Caroline – that was the old queen – her most loyal men tried to do the same to Marcus, but their resistance didn’t last long. They are merely sheep, and they will follow the shepherd before them. Take away the shepherd, and they are left to the wolves.”

              Robert smiled. “And would you like to take away the shepherd?”

              Ericson raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look nearly as offended as Captain Moore did. Robert signaled to the vacant chair before the desk and the captain sat with his hands folded in his lap. His foot tapped anxiously on the floor.

              “We would need a warrant with the magistrate’s seal and evidence against Marcus. He is a slippery fellow, and as of yet no one has been able to catch him in the act of thievery or murder. We came close last summer thanks to Captain Moore, but the Death Dealer ruined it.”

              “Indeed, I am aware of your difficulties in catching him.” Robert locked eyes with Ericson. The captain looked right back, keeping his eyebrow raised.

              “Why does a man as noble as you care for the troubles in Glenbard?”

              “I am putting forth a proposal to quarter some of my soldiers in Glenbard for the winter before a spring offensive in the islands. I need the approval of the magistrates, obviously, but I also need the people to back me. Unhappy citizens cause trouble, and I cannot afford it. I want to make sure any troublemakers are securely locked away.”

              Ericson’s foot kept tapping away, but now his whole leg bounced up and down. “What about the warrant?”

              “I can secure that, if you can secure this false king.”

              “What will you do about his man Thom? I heard a rumor he is out of the city on Marcus’s personal business, but he will eventually come back. The girl, Ridley is as slippery as Marcus.” Ericson was interested. That was good. The other district captains would be happy to see the thief king laid low, but only Moore and Ericson knew how the man operated. Since Moore wouldn’t allow himself to be corrupted, Robert needed Ericson.

              “They are of no concern to you. I will handle them. Now, do we have a deal?” Robert extended his hand and Ericson took it, giving it one shake. “I am making my proposal before the magistrates in three weeks. The night before, I will visit you with the warrant. Bring this Marcus fellow to me alive. I will deal with the girl and his second in my own way.”

Twelve

              For two weeks, the Death Dealer was spotted around Arganis. The hooded figure broke up drunken fights outside the village tavern before disappearing into the night and stalked about the woods as a swift shadow. Tongues wagged that this couldn’t be the same person who killed Duke Brayden in Glenbard; this was the
real
Dealer, the one who made a name in Arganis years before as a great defender.

              It was past three in the morning when Grace snuck back into her rooms. She kept her Death Dealer garb hidden in the secret tunnel and changed into her everyday clothes in the well by the light of the moon and stars. The past few weeks had centered Grace, and she felt her aggression sift away. She never thought wearing an executioner’s hood could be calming, but she felt like she was doing what she needed to do. Her dreams of blood and fire lessened since she returned to patrolling the night. Sometimes she woke up on the edge of a dream, feeling terrified, knowing her patron goddess had sent her a message she still didn’t understand, but most nights she didn’t dream at all.

              Grace gently opened her door and was startled to find Calvin sitting on her bed. She stepped into her room and closed the door behind her. He was dressed in his night shirt, but had black trousers pulled on underneath.

              “I’ve tried to catch you every night since the rumors started that the Dealer was back,” he said. “Normally I leave about half past three, and you are still out. I know you have been avoiding me.”

              It was true. Grace had kept her distance from her cousin since their fight in the woods. He hadn’t made any attempt to speak to her during daylight hours, so she figured his feelings were still hurt.

              “I did not think you wanted to talk to me.”

              “I didn’t, not really. Though I was happy to see Katherine warm to you, at least warm to you in her own way.”

              Grace smiled and crossed the room to sit next to him. The duchess allowed Grace to join her at night when they sat with Deidre. Grace always brushed her hair and put on a dress, and in return, Katherine only nagged her a little bit about her appearance. She also requested that Grace join the morning rides every day.

              “I wanted to talk to you about, well, you know.” He made a gesture like he was pulling a hood over his face. “I wanted to make sure you were doing all right. After your fight with Tristan I thought for sure you would run, your deal with George or no. Then suddenly…”

              “I have been a bit of a brute lately. I picked fights with you over inheritance, and I could not handle listening to that fool talk about Jack in such hateful tones. I have not felt like myself since returning to Arganis. Then I went to Cassandra’s and,” she sighed, “…and I felt whole again. I am ashamed of my behavior over recent months and I realize I should have apologized to you as soon as I returned. I thought I felt incomplete because of the men who died by my hand; that my guilt was eating away at me again. I mean, that
is
part of it, especially when I first arrived, but not now. I have a purpose under the hood, Calvin; one that I don’t feel I have when I am simply ‘Grace’.”

              Grace looked down at her hands and noted they weren’t the smooth, unblemished hands of a lady. They were callused and scarred. She bore other scars that didn’t show as easily; scars from knives and swords, wounds that could have killed her. To her surprise, Calvin put his hand on top of her clasped hands. His palms were just as callused as hers were. His fingers were cold, but they felt good over Grace’s.

              “My father always said you were Daniel’s daughter. Impulsive and recklessly brave, but good hearted. I meant to stay angry with you for it, even though a few years ago I would have joined you like I did when you first started. We could have had a grand adventure, but now I can’t. Not anymore. I am mired down in learning how to run Arganis. My life is all about lumber and trades and making sure we are provisioned for winter. I know as I become further entrenched in my life as the lord of Arganis, I will get annoyed with you and your impulsive ways. I will make rude remarks and you will punch me in the nose.” He touched his eye tenderly. The bruise was mostly faded, but a yellowish tint still remained. “But I love you and no matter how crazy you make me, we are always family.”

              Grace smiled and took one of her hands back to wrap around Calvin’s shoulders. “You will be as dour a lord as Arganis has ever seen.”

              “It will do George proud, I am sure. So, dear cousin, might we forgive our differences?

              “Until you say something pig-headed again.”

              “Your fists will silence me, no doubt. So, tell me dear cousin, will you be going back south soon?”

              Grace unwrapped her arm from Calvin and flopped backwards on her bed. “Henry thinks I should wait until we know why Jack was appointed, but I feel like I should be making plans to leave now.” She thought of the dreams, knowing she couldn't leave just yet until the purpose behind them was made clear.

              Calvin patted her knee. “I would use caution. You are not a welcome guest where the king is concerned, and since he appointed Jack, it means your friend is being watched.”

              “I know, but I am worried about him. I knew I should have had him come here sooner. What if he is in danger?”

              “Then you will be, too. Heed Henry's advice. He is a wise man and he is right. You must use caution where Jack is concerned.”

              Since hearing of Jack's appointment, Grace felt a growing lump in her chest that caused an ache she couldn't explain to anyone. When she first returned to Arganis, she was still upset with Jack for abandoning her. But he said he loved her and would wait until she was ready to forgive him for his betrayal. However, even when she
was
ready, she still didn't give it. Grace curled up on her side.

              “He will be fine, Grace.” Calvin rubbed her back comfortingly. “Get some sleep. Drake keeps hinting about a wedding present that will be arriving tomorrow. He has a look of mischief in his eyes that he only gets when he is getting ready to play a prank. I feel we will all need a good deal of rest to weather whatever storm he is bringing.” Calvin got up to leave.

              Grace pulled herself up long enough to hug her cousin good-night and kiss his cheek, and he ruffled her hair in response. When he was gone, Grace laid down and fell into a dream.

~*~*~

              Grace ran opposite of the fork in the road tonight. Her hair was tied into a bun and she wore Calvin's armor. It weighed her down, draining her strength, but she pushed on. Behind her, the coppery smell of blood followed and the heat from unchecked flames burned the back of her exposed neck. Still, she ran on toward a city in the distance. She ran for Jack. Grace would save him from whatever cruel fate awaited him.

              Smoke floated before her and made a fog, blocking out the city, but she could see lights coming from where it stood. She knew she needed to follow them to find Jack.

              Finally, when her lungs felt like they would give out, she stopped. The fog of smoke choked her as she tried to take deep breaths. The ground slowly turned red under her feet, and from out of the fog a dark shape appeared. Grace reached for the sword she always carried at her waist to find it wasn't there as the shape emerged, revealing itself to be a great wolf. The eyes were silver like starlight and the fur was black as night. Grace knelt down to her patron goddess.

             
You would choose to run?
Diggery said.
His path is not yet set. If you both flee together, then all shall turn to ash and death.

             
“What do you want me to do? You block the path I want to take, but won't guide me to the one you want me to go down!” Grace pounded her fist on the dirt in frustration and then pulled it back, finding it covered by a red stain. She wiped it over her chest, smearing the blood on the shiny breastplate of Calvin's plate mail. Her hand was still red.

             
Your choice will decide what will happen next. I chose you to help me shift events, but you cannot if you are not here. I thought you were a faithful servant.

              “I am, but I do not like this uncertainty. You have guided my feet for years. Show me some sign; tell me why I must choose between blood and fire.”

              The wolf snorted, though it sounded more like a sneeze. Diggery sat and beat her tail in the dirt.
I will tell you this: if you choose to run to Jack, blood AND fire will overcome Cesernan. You might spare the people one of these dooms if you choose. When you are faced with the choice in your waking hours, you will have but a moment to decide. I have gifted you these dreams so that you might think on what lies ahead.

              “But I still don’t
know
what lies ahead!”

             
Nor do I. I can see two ends with the paths I place before you, but the future is constantly shifting. I cannot predict what humans will do, nor will I force man to do what I command. It is not for us gods to completely shape the fortunes of mortals.

              “So I am to be alone in this? You point me to two roads and then leave me to my own devices?” Grace felt tears well in her eyes. She did not like being anyone's pawn, goddess or no.

              Diggery trotted over to Grace, licked her tears away and brought her body close. The scent of pine and ocean air filled her senses. She felt the wolf's soft, warm body through the armor.

              I give you strength, for I know I have placed a burden on you.

              Around them, the fog lifted and the heat lessened. The blood on the ground receded. A clear blue sky was now overhead, the sun warming the path in a way the fire hadn't.

             
And I give you one last gift. Close your eyes.

             
Grace did as she was commanded. Next to her, the wolf moved. Grace heard footsteps. Her body tensed, but she remembered she only dreamed.

             
Open your eyes.

              Grace opened her eyes to see Diggery was gone, and in her place stood Jack. He looked older than when they parted months ago. He wore his long black coat, brown trousers, and a white linen shirt. His trousers were tucked into his riding boots. He held out a hand to help her up.

              She took his hand. Once on her feet, she fell into his arms. He smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head.

              “I was running from the forest to the city to find you,” she said into his chest.

              “I was running from the city to the forest to find
you
.” He moved her away from him to look her over and gently touched her face. “Behold the power of the gods. We have been gifted with a good dream.”

              “I should have asked you to come to Arganis sooner, but now I fear you are in great danger.”

              Jack put a finger to her lips to silence her. “My little chick, don't ruffle your feathers over me.”

              She took his hand away from her mouth. “I know about Lady Danielle’s maid. Why didn’t you tell me the real story? I had to hear it from Drake.”

              “I am surprised that he knew the truth. Even Henry didn't know it, although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. He and my brother have always been thick as thieves. Do you think ill of me for keeping a few secrets for myself?”

              Grace shook her head. “She is the past.” She meant it, too. It didn’t matter anymore. Only the future, the paths Diggery put forth, and her friends mattered.

              “You, my little chick, are the future. Now I need only do what my father has requested and I will be free to resign my post and come to you.”

              Grace gripped the lapels of his jacket. “You must hurry. I fear trouble is coming my way. I will need your help, I know it. I fear your brother means to kill me or harm my family.”

              A shadow crossed over Jack's face. He gently took Grace's hands from his jacket and held them tightly. “You have nothing to fear from him. He takes his pride seriously, but no one will let him harm you. And if he tries, you are strong enough to beat him, Grace.”

              “Oh Jack, I miss you. I made a huge mistake in leaving you in Egona with Henry when I fled north.”

              He shook his head and she melted to see him smile again. He pulled her hands to his chest and she felt his heart drumming softly. “Don't talk as though I was without fault in our parting, but all that is over. We have to look ahead to the paths Diggery places before us. Soon the night will pass and we will go together into the days ahead.”

              He bent his head and she stood on her toes to meet him, where his kiss surrounded her with warmth. She wrapped herself in his arms, glad of this one, perfect gift from her goddess.

~*~*~

              Grace woke to find Cassandra already in her room, laying Grace's uniform out for her. As Grace sat up, Cassandra eyed her carefully and raised an eyebrow.