Thieftaker (33 page)

“How are you feeling, Holin?” Ethan asked.

The boy swallowed. “Confused.” His voice sounded weak.

“Are you in any pain? Do you feel sick?”

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, nothing like that. I don’t remember … How did I get here?”

“I brought you home. What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“Walking up from the wharf. It was light still. What time is it now?”

“It’s late,” Ethan said. “Past midnight.”

“Why weren’t you with Rory?” Elli asked in that same stern voice.

“He and some friends were going to a tavern.” He looked at his mother. “I didn’t think you’d want me going with them.”

In spite of everything, Ethan smiled, turning away so that Elli wouldn’t see.

Elli started to say more, then stopped and just stared at Holin. The boy had rendered her speechless. Ethan wished he had been taking notes.

“Do you remember seeing anyone?” Ethan asked, facing Holin once more. “Did you stop to speak with someone, or pass anyone in the street?”

“I don’t think so.” An instant later, he shook his head and frowned. “No,” he said with more certainty. “In fact, I remember thinking that the city seemed deserted. I didn’t see anyone, and I thought it was strange. That’s the last thing I remember: thinking that there should have been more people on the street. Then…” He shrugged. “Then you woke me up.”

Ethan and Elli shared a look.

“All right then,” Elli said, standing. “It’s time for you to get to bed. Can you make it to your room?”

“I think so,” Holin said. But he didn’t move. “What happened to me?” he asked Ethan. “Why are you here so late?”

Ethan glanced at Elli again, but she said nothing.

“I’m afraid I got you mixed up in some of my dealings, Holin. I’m sorry for that. I won’t let it happen again.”

The boy stared hard at him, obviously dissatisfied with that answer.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Ethan said. “Nothing you should be involved in. And I think you had better get yourself to bed before your mother forbids me to ever come here again.”

“All right,” Holin said, sounding tired. He stood too quickly, swayed dangerously, and might have fallen had Ethan not reached out to steady him. “Whoa,” the boy breathed.

“Perhaps I should walk you up,” Ethan said.

With Ethan supporting the boy, they made their way up the narrow stairway to Holin’s chamber. There, Ethan and Elli helped the boy into his bed before descending the stairs once more and returning to the sitting room.

Ethan began to gather his clothes, which were warmer but still damp.

“You should stay here,” Elli said, surprising him again. “You can sleep on the sofa, by the fire.”

“Thank you, but that’s not—”

“They’ll find you if you go home.”

“Elli—”

“Look at me and tell me that you wouldn’t be safer here.”

Ethan stared back at her, but he couldn’t argue. The conjurer would want revenge for what Ethan had done to him this night, and he had little doubt that Sephira was after him, too. His room above the cooperage was the first place they would look. The Dowser would be second, and at that thought he very nearly sprinted from the house and back to the tavern without saying another word to Elli. Hearing Sephira threaten to hurt Kannice was one thing; knowing that this conjurer might go after her was something else entirely.

“Besides,” Elli went on after a brief pause, “you’re wearing John’s clothes, and I don’t want you leaving with them.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“No,” he said. Then, “A little, yes. You understand that if I were to stay here, I would be putting you and the children in danger. I would have to set a warding on the house, and that would mean spilling blood for a conjuring.”

Elli flinched at the last word, but then she gathered herself. “That’s fine. Whatever you need to do to make it safe for us.”

She was full of surprises this night.

“Thank you, Elli,” he said, and meant it. “It’s a kind offer. But there’s somewhere else I need to be.”

“At this hour?”

“Yes. You’re right: They might be looking for me. And if they are, I want to be there. Better they find me than someone else.”

“The woman. The one who owns that tavern.”

He had never mentioned Kannice to her, in large part because she had made it clear that she didn’t want to know any more about his life than she absolutely had to. She must have heard about Kannice from Holin and Clara.

“Her name’s Kannice.” They stood there for several moments, saying nothing. Ethan felt his cheeks reddening and he wasn’t sure why. “Well,” he said, bending to pick up the rest of his clothes. “I’ll change back into these and be on my way.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she said, scowling at him and sounding much more like the Elli he had grown used to these past few years. “They can’t be dry yet. Wear what you have on. You can bring them back later. Clean.”

He smiled. “Again, thank you.” He pulled on his wet hose and boots, and walked to the door. “I can still put a warding on the house. You’d all be safer.”

“No,” she said. “Thank you.” Their eyes met again. “May God keep you safe.”

“And you.”

He pulled on his damp coat, opened the door, and stepped once more into the rain and darkness.

Chapter

S
EVENTEEN

A
s soon as he was outside, Ethan pulled his knife free, forced up his coat sleeve and the shirtsleeve beneath, and cut his forearm.

“
Velamentum ex cruore evocatum.
” Concealment, conjured from blood.

He didn’t need to feel the resonance of the spell in his body and in the street beneath him to know that he was taking a great risk. The spell would allow him to walk the lanes without being seen. Sephira and her toughs could walk right past him without knowing he was there. But if the conjurer was still hunting him, the casting of the spell might well alert him to Ethan’s whereabouts. And Ethan suspected that a man of such power would see right through a concealment charm.

Nor was he done taking risks. He strode back to Cooper’s Alley, where Pitch still lay. He couldn’t bury the dog without then telling Henry what he had done and why. But he could at least honor Pitch by placing his body where it belonged. He lifted the creature into his arms and bore him to the front of the cooperage. Kneeling, he laid him just outside Henry’s door, taking a moment to stroke the dog’s fur one last time. He didn’t dare do more.

Ethan stood and struck out for the Dowsing Rod. He still had his sleeves pushed up and he drew his knife again, in case he encountered the conjurer. He kept to narrower streets, even though it meant taking a longer route, and he did his best to move silently. Somehow he managed to make it to the Dowser without running across any of the people who wanted him dead. A minor miracle.

He tested the door of the tavern, expecting that he might have to use a spell on the lock. It was unbolted. Ethan let himself inside, pulling the door closed behind him. He was careful not to let the door close loudly, but at the click of the door handle, he heard Kelf call out from the kitchen “Who’s there?” in a voice that would have given Sephira pause.

He quickly cut himself again, and cast a second spell to remove the concealment charm.

The barkeep emerged from behind the bar carrying a large cleaver and guardedly peering toward the door. It was dark in the great room. The fire in the hearth had burned low, and all but a few of the candles had been extinguished, so it would have been hard for him to see Ethan anyway. And concealment spells didn’t wear off instantaneously.

“It’s me. Ethan.” As an afterthought, he pushed down his sleeve to hide the raw skin on his forearm.

Kelf lowered his weapon, still squinting at the shadows. “Ethan?” He shook his head. “Ya near t’ scared me t’ death.”

Ethan walked to the bar and sat on one of the stools. “I’m sorry, Kelf. I didn’t want to wake Kannice.”

“Ya didn’t?” Kelf asked, sounding confused.

“Long story.” When Kelf continued to gaze back at him, Ethan said, “I’m in a bit of trouble, and I didn’t want to go home. So I thought I’d come here and sleep downstairs; keep watch on the door.”

Kelf hefted the cleaver again. “Ya need me t’ stay? Nothin’ personal, Ethan, bu’ ya’re not exactly th’ biggest fella in Boston. I can help ya.”

“That’s a kind offer, Kelf. But I can take care of myself better than you might think from looking at me.”

“Aye, I don’ doubt it,” the barkeep said. “Ya wiry types are like that.”

Ethan said nothing.

“Righ’ then. I’ll be on my way. I’ve jus’ finished up in there.” He grabbed his coat off the bar and started for the door. “Ya wan’ me t’ lock it?”

“Please,” Ethan said. “Good night, Kelf.”

“G’night, Ethan.”

Once Kelf had left the tavern, Ethan walked back to the door, cut his forearm once more, and placed a warding spell on the door. Reg appeared once again, glowing brightly in the dark room. The spell made the air hum; probably it sang through the streets. But as with the concealment spell, he believed the warding to be worth the risk.

Satisfied that the Dowser was secure for the night, he threw another log onto the fire, moved a pair of chairs in front of the hearth, and arranged them into a sort of bed. He hadn’t any blankets, and just about everything he had on was damp, but he thought the fire would cast enough warmth to let him sleep.

Just as he got himself settled, however, he heard the floorboards above him creak, and a moment later, footfalls on the stairway.

“Kelf?” Kannice’s voice.

“No, it’s me.”

“Ethan?” She came down the stairs, wrapped in a robe. “Are you all right?”

“Aye, I’m fine. It’s been a long night.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. I thought you couldn’t stay here until your work for Berson was finished.”

“That was before. Now I’d rather not leave you alone.”

She frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that, either.”

He nodded, thinking of Pitch and feeling his throat tighten. “The conjurer took Holin. I was able to get him back, and get away myself, but … but I had to do something terrible. After, I was afraid to go home, and I was afraid that if I didn’t come here, whoever this person is would take you next.”

“Why didn’t you come up?”

“I didn’t want to wake you. Also, I set a warding on the door. I want to make sure it holds, and I want to be able to take it off in the morning before Kelf gets here.”

“So you were with Elli tonight.” She offered it as a statement.

“I was. I had to get Holin home and—”

“I understand. I assume that’s where you got those clothes.”

Ethan felt his cheeks burn. “I was soaked, Kannice. I—”

She held up her hand, silencing him. Then she stooped quickly and kissed his lips. “I said I understand,” she whispered. “You were with Elli, and rather than stay there, you came here.”

“Yes, well, her stew is awful.”

Kannice punched his good arm, glaring and smiling at the same time. “Your clothes are wet,” she said, tugging gently at his shirt. “Come upstairs and we’ll take them off.”

He held her gaze. “That’s not why I came back here.”

“I know.” She took his hand and pulled him again.

Still, he didn’t stand. “All right. But ask me first.”

Her smile faded, though she continued to hold his hand. “What was the terrible thing you did?”

A tear rolled down his cheek, and then another. “I had to use a killing spell to get away; I had no choice. I had to … to kill Pitch.” He looked away, a sob escaping him. “He showed up just in time. It was like he knew I needed him.” He covered his face with his hand, unable to keep from weeping.

“Oh, Ethan,” she said, her voice breaking on his name. She knelt beside him and ran her free hand through his hair. He knew she was casting about for something to say, and just as surely he knew there was nothing she could say to heal this wound.

They remained thus for several moments as Ethan gathered himself. At last, he took a long breath, feeling too weary to climb the steps to Kannice’s room. Had the conjurer broken through his warding at that moment, he would have been helpless to fight the man off.

“Come on,” Kannice said, standing and tugging at his hand again. “You need sleep.”

He nodded and let her lead him up the stairs to her bed.

*   *   *

He slept poorly, troubled by strange, dark visions. At one point he dreamed that he battled the conjurer again, the hot pain in his chest and head so severe that he cried out, waking himself and Kannice. She put her arms around him and sang to him, until at last he fell asleep again. The worst dream, though, came later. He was in Cooper’s Alley, walking toward Henry’s shop. Shelly stood in the middle of the street, her pale eyes fixed on him, her teeth bared. Ethan called her name and squatted down, holding out a hand for her to sniff. But she growled, the fur on her neck and back standing on end. And then she turned and trotted away.

Ethan woke from that dream with an ache in his chest that he feared would never go away. He was alone, though he could hear Kannice moving around downstairs. Daylight seeped around the edges of the window shutters, and the smell of cooked bacon wafted up from below. He knew he had to get up; he had slept too long already. But he couldn’t bring himself to move until the door opened and Kannice stuck her head in the room.

“I wanted to let you sleep, but Kelf’s here and he can’t get in. I told him that the door is stuck and that I’m working on it, but he’s going to start getting suspicious.”

Ethan sat up, ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be right down. What’s the time?”

“It’s early yet. Just an hour or so past dawn. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have things to do, things that can’t wait.”

Ethan had gotten in the habit of leaving a change of clothes in Kannice’s wardrobe and after she went back down to the tavern, he dug them out: a pair of breeches, a white shirt and brown waistcoat, even a pair of hose. His boots were still damp, but they were the only pair he had. He examined his arm, which was covered with fresh scars from all the conjuring he had done the past few days, and lamented having charmed the door. Remembering Janna’s mullein, he retrieved the pouch from a pocket of his wet clothes, which lay in a pile on the floor by Kannice’s door. Then he went down to the tavern.