“Of course you won’t,” the sheriff said, the words laden with irony. “Would I be correct in assuming that you also won’t tell me more about this ‘harmless and legal’ pursuit with which you intended to help the good captain?”
Ethan glared at him, but could say nothing without either lying outright, or admitting that he was a conjurer.
“Do you also refuse to tell me where this ghost came from?”
Still Ethan held his tongue.
Greenleaf smirked. “I thought as much. And you wonder why I remain suspicious of you.” He strode toward the Muirenn, the regulars just behind him. “Come along. It’s time I had a word with Nate Ramsey, and I want you there with me.”
“He’s dangerous, Sheriff,” Ethan said, hurrying to keep up with him, Reg and the shade of Ramsey’s father following. “More so now than he was when he took his revenge on Keller and Forrs.”
Greenleaf didn’t slow. “So I gather. A man who can go up against Sephira Pryce and prevail is not to be trifled with.” He flashed a malicious grin. “But I’ve got a witch with me, so I ought to be safe.”
Chapter
NINETEEN
Ramsey still stood at the rail of his vessel, his arms crossed over his chest, the wind stirring his hair. He stared down at Greenleaf and Ethan, marking their approach. When they reached the base of the Muirenn’s gangplank, he said, “The two of you. I won’t have soldiers on my ship.” Before Ethan or the sheriff could respond, he turned away.
Greenleaf and Ethan shared a look.
“Stay here,” the sheriff said to the regulars. To Ethan he said, “After you.” He indicated the plank with an open hand, and backed out of the way of Captain Ramsey’s ghost.
Ethan started up the incline. He thought of the knife on his belt and the pouch of mullein in his pocket. It was too late for him to cast a warding spell. Whether he cut himself or drew leaves from the pouch, the sheriff would see, and even if he managed to cast without drawing Greenleaf’s notice, Ramsey would sense the conjuring. He felt vulnerable, weak. His only protection was the ghost following him up to the ship. He wondered if Greenleaf had brought a pistol.
At the top of the plank, Ethan hopped onto the deck and found himself facing eight members of Ramsey’s crew, who had arranged themselves in a semicircle. All of them held knives, although with Ramsey standing behind them, fresh blood on his forearm, Ethan wasn’t sure their weapons were necessary.
A few seconds later, Greenleaf joined him on the deck. He eyed the men briefly before pulling a pistol from his coat pocket.
“You should put that away, Sheriff,” Ramsey said. “Someone could get hurt.”
“Tell your men to stand down.”
Ramsey’s eyes found Ethan’s and a mordant smile crossed his lips.
“Very well,” he said. “If that will make you feel better.” To the sailors he said, “Leave us.”
Most of the men moved to the stern. A few lingered; one of them had blood on his shirt: from his fallen comrade, no doubt.
“It’s all right,” Ramsey said. “They won’t be staying long.”
The last men joined the others at the rear of the ship.
“I thought you and I had an understanding, Kaille,” Ramsey said.
“We do.”
The captain shook his head. “We did. That ended once Pryce showed up with your friend and attacked my ship.”
“What friend?” Greenleaf asked. “Who’s he talking about, Kaille?”
Ethan kept his gaze on the captain. “Mariz, the bespectacled man who works for Sephira.”
“Since when are you friends with Sephira’s boys?”
“We’re not … It’s not worth explaining right now.”
Ramsey’s eyebrows went up. “I see. The truth is, Sheriff, this Mariz is a speller, just as I am, and just as Kaille is. But our friend here is too shy to say as much aloud.”
It was a measure of how much the sheriff hated and feared Ramsey that he wasted not even a moment to gloat over this tidbit.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Captain Ramsey, you are under arrest for the murder of Nigel Billings.”
“Am I? Tell me: Who saw me kill this man?”
“Sephira Pryce did,” Greenleaf said. “She is a respected and admired personage in our city, and she told me herself that you had done the deed.”
“I don’t doubt that she did. But what did she see, exactly?”
Greenleaf faltered. “Well … what did you see, Kaille?”
“I’ll tell you what I saw,” the captain said before Ethan could answer. “I saw Pryce’s man shoot my bosun dead. That’s right: Two men died today. Where’s the justice for me and my crew?”
When Greenleaf didn’t respond, Ramsey nodded. “I thought as much. So after he shot Stip, I saw Pryce’s man go tumbling across the wharf, and then lie still. It was almost like God himself reached down and gave us the justice you won’t offer.”
The sheriff recoiled. “You dare claim it was God who killed him?”
“You dare to accuse me,” Ramsey said with a shrug. “Yet you have no more or less proof than I.”
Greenleaf rounded on Ethan. “You saw what happened! Say something!”
“Aye,” Ramsey said, drawing out the word. “Tell us what you saw, Kaille. And spare no detail.”
What could Ethan say? I saw precisely the same thing Ramsey saw, but I also felt the spell he cast to kill Nigel. He might as well have tied his own noose and handed the rope to Greenleaf.
He looked the sheriff in the eye. “As he said, two men died today. And from all I saw, Captain Ramsey and Sephira Pryce bear equal blame for both deaths. We need to get this ship and her crew away from Boston, or there will be more bloodshed. I’m certain of that.”
“That’s not good enough, damn it!” Greenleaf said, growling the words. He faced Ramsey again, his pistol aimed at the captain’s heart. “You’re under arrest, I say. I’ll sort out the details later. If nothing else, I’ll see you hanged for the murders of Deron Forrs and Isaac Keller.”
Ramsey’s laugh was dry and mirthless. Ethan reached for his blade.
“Don’t do it, Kaille,” the captain said, still staring at Greenleaf.
“Sheriff, you need to leave,” Ethan said. “Right now.”
“The hell I—”
“Sheriff, please.”
“I want him to stay,” Ramsey said.
Greenleaf looked from one of them to the other. “You are working together. Why else would he want me to leave while you stay?”
The captain laughed. “You really are a fool, aren’t you? You understand nothing. Kaille knows that I can kill both of you with a thought. He believes he’s safe because he has summoned the ghost of my father. He may be right. But you? I have nothing to fear from killing you.”
“Don’t do it, Ramsey!” Ethan said. “Let him go. If you kill him, every soldier in this city will come for you.” And if they kill you, the souls you control will be lost.
“I’m not afraid of the king’s men. I’m not afraid of any of you.” He eyed the ghost of his father. “My father’s spirit is the only thing keeping you alive right now. You betrayed me, Kaille. That wasn’t smart. And now one of my men is dead.”
“I had nothing to do with what happened here today. Ask the sheriff: Sephira and I despise each other. If she wasn’t trying to kill you, she’d probably be trying to kill me. We don’t work together.”
For several seconds, Ramsey held himself still. Ethan felt a pulse of power and saw the captain’s ancient spectral guide appear on the deck, faint and insubstantial in the sunlight.
The sheriff let out a sharp cry and jerked his hand back. His pistol fell to the deck and discharged, the report drawing the stares of Ramsey’s men. The shot hit the base of the rail near the ship’s prow, gouging the wood.
“I want you both off of my ship right now.”
“Ramsey—”
“Go, Kaille, before I do something more than burn the sheriff’s hand. I don�
��t want your help, and I don’t trust you. I’d kill you both now, but…” The captain eyed his father’s ghost and then Greenleaf. “Well, let’s just say that it would complicate matters.” He flashed a smile. “Besides, before the end, I want you to see how powerful I’ve grown.”
Before the end … Ethan suppressed a shudder at the threat in those words. Still, he held the man’s gaze before turning to Greenleaf.
“Come along, Sheriff. There’s nothing more to be done here.”
Greenleaf stared at the captain, but Ethan could see that his confidence had evaporated. He looked frightened as he bent to retrieve his pistol. He hesitated with his hand mere inches from the weapon, and finally snatched it up and shoved it back into his pocket.
Ethan led him to the gangplank, and they both left the ship.
“He used witchery against me!” Greenleaf said, as they reached the wharf once more. “He made my pistol … One moment it was normal, and the next it was too hot for me to hold.”
Ethan kept walking. Reg and the ghost watched him, expectant, their eyes glowing, but Ethan wasn’t yet ready to dismiss the one advantage he had over Ramsey.
“He didn’t do anything,” the sheriff said. “I thought he would have to wave his hands around in all manner, or speak some sort of magicking nonsense. But he did nothing. It just happened.”
Ethan thought it likely that Ramsey had drawn blood by biting the inside of his cheek, or perhaps he had used some of the mullein Ethan carried. But he didn’t respond.
“This is your fault, Kaille.”
He halted, turned. “My fault?”
Greenleaf and the regulars caught up with him.
“That’s right. You let him get away all those years ago. At the time you said yourself that you had made a mess of things, and you were right. Now he’s back and you need to clean up your mess.”
They had reached the street. Ethan halted and faced the sheriff, a denial on his tongue. But he clamped his mouth shut. As much as he hated to admit it, Greenleaf was right, even more than he knew. Six years ago, Ethan had failed to protect Forrs and Keller, and last night he had failed to rid the world of Nate Ramsey. This was his fault as much as anyone’s.
“All right,” he said. “That’s what I’ll do.”
Greenleaf looked surprised, but he recovered quickly and nodded. “Do what you have to. I know you’re a witch; I don’t give a damn. Not right now. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Aye.”
“Good. Tell me when he’s been dealt with.”
Greenleaf started away.
“What if I fail again?” Ethan called after him.
“I’ll find another of your kind to help me.” The sheriff looked back at him. “It sounds as though Miss Pryce might know someone.”
Right. Mariz wouldn’t be happy about that. If their new friendship survived this week, it would be nothing short of miraculous.
Then again, if Ethan himself survived, that would be something of a miracle in and of itself. He was at a loss as to how to combat Ramsey’s growing power, particularly when his own spells were so unreliable.
It occurred to him that as long as he considered this a battle between himself and Ramsey, he could not prevail. Ramsey had gathered a force of shades who were working on his behalf, albeit against their will. Ethan needed allies as well. A year before, Ethan pitted himself against what he thought was the most powerful conjurer he had ever encountered. In the end, it turned out to be two conjurers who had learned to cast as one and thus combine their might. What if he could do the same?
It seemed that every conjurer in the city was having trouble casting spells. But perhaps if several of them worked together they could be both stronger and more certain that their conjurings would work.
For the second time that day, Ethan walked to the Fat Spider, only dismissing Reg and Ramsey’s ghost when he reached the tavern.
“What are you doin’ back here?” Janna demanded as soon as he entered her tavern. “You can’t be out o’ mullein already.”
“No, I’m not. I need your help, Janna.”
“My help,” she repeated. “I thought we were through with you comin’ in here an’ asking me questions an’ offerin’ nothin’ in return.”
“I’m not here for information. I’m here to ask you if you’ll help me fight Nate Ramsey.”
She straightened, her face like stone. “I already told you I would. Do you know how to make our spells work?”
Ethan shook his head. “Not yet. But I was thinking that if we combined our spells, cast them together, we might have a better chance.”
“I ain’t never done that.”
“Neither have I. But last year, when those men died aboard the Graystone, that was how the sisters Osborne made their conjurings so powerful. I know it can be done.”
“Then we’ll find a way,” Janna said. “Have you talked to ole Black yet?”
“No. I came to you first.”
“Well, it sounds like we’ll need him, too.”
“Aye, we will. And also Mariz.”
“Who is that?” she asked, though Ethan thought that she already knew.
“He works for Sephira.”
“That’s what I thought! Did you get hit on the head or somethin’? You want to fight Ramsey with one of Pryce’s men on our side? You might as well put your knife to your throat!”
“If it was anyone else I would agree with you. But Mariz is different. I trust him. He’s already saved my life once, and now he has more reasons than most to hate Ramsey.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
Ethan told her about the battle at the wharf and his subsequent confrontation with Ramsey and the sheriff.
She didn’t look happy, but aside from those few moments in the Dowser, when Kannice was doting on her and Ethan was buying her chowder, he couldn’t remember the last time she had.
“Well, I suppose that this once havin’ Pryce and her boys on our side might help.”
“I’m going to speak with Gavin next,” Ethan said, already starting toward the door. “I don’t know yet what we’re going to do, or when. But I’ll let you know as soon as I can.” He paused, looking back at her. She was tiny and frail; her dark skin seemed to be stretched thin over the bones of her face. He had no doubts about her skill as a conjurer, but he couldn’t helping thinking that he was making a mistake asking her to fight this battle with him.
“I know what you’re thinkin’,” she said, meeting his gaze and raising her chin defiantly. “I’m old. I ain’t as strong as I once was, and I wake up some mornin’s thinkin’ that a good wind could blow me over. But there ain’t no one else in this city knows magicking like I do. There ain’t no one else who can help you as much as I can.”
“I believe that. You’ve been a good friend to me over the years, Janna.”
“No, I haven’t. I’m mean as a snake, and you know it. But that’s just my way. It don’t mean that I don’t…” She gave a vague wave of her hand. “You know.”
“I do. And I don’t want something to happen to you because of anything that I ask you to do.”
“Ramsey didn’t start this because of you. Boy’s got darkness in his soul. It ain’t your fault. We can let him win, or we can fight him an’ get our conjurin’s back. You know which I choose. Now, go see ole Black.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grinned at that.
Ethan left her and walked back toward Hillier’s Lane. He could have saved himself some walking by going to Black first, before he visited Janna. But if Janna had refused him, Gavin would have, too. And Ethan needed Janna’s knowledge of spellmaking to make all of this work.
Gavin’s house on Hillier’s Lane, which stood but a stone’s throw from the Dowsing Rod, was one of the older homes on the street. Its clapboard siding had been weathered to a pale gray by nearly one hundred winters and more storms than Ethan could count.
Gavin had once told him that the house was first built for his great-
grandfather, who had also been a sea captain, and who had given up the sea after losing his arm in a whaling accident. The house had been passed down to Gavin, who leased it during his years at sea, and finally returned to it when he sold his ship.
Ethan knocked on the door, waited, knocked again, and was beginning to wonder if he should look for the old man elsewhere when at last the door opened.
Gavin blinked against the daylight. His clothes were rumpled, and his white hair was in tangles.
“Ethan,” he said, his surprise apparent.
“Did I wake you?”
“Aye.” He tried to smooth his hair. “It’s been thirteen years since I gave up sailing, and still I don’t sleep well on land. I catch what sleep I can, regardless of the time.” He fixed a smile on his face and gestured for Ethan to enter the house. “Come in.”
Ethan stepped past him. He had been in the house only a few times before, and not for some time. It hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. It was sparsely furnished and in need of fresh paint.
“Can I offer you some wine?”
“No, thank you. I’m sorry to disturb you, Gavin, but I need your help.”
“My help?” Gavin said. He sat in a threadbare chair beside an empty hearth, and indicated a second chair for Ethan. “You’re the thieftaker. What help could you need from an old man?”
Ethan lowered himself into the other chair. “It’s related to what we talked about in the street the other day: the trouble you were having with your conjurings.”
Gavin averted his gaze. “How can my inability to conjure help you?”
“In all your years at sea, did you know a merchant captain named Nathaniel Ramsey?”
“Of course. He was a friend, a good man.”
“Did you know his son?”
“Aye. I haven’t seen Nate in years, but as a lad he spent some time on my ship. His father felt that he should have experience sailing under more than a single captain.”
Ethan sat forward. “So you know him well.”
“I’m not sure I’d say that. It’s been years since last we spoke. And after Nathaniel’s death … Nate changed.”
Ethan didn’t need for Gavin to elaborate. “He’s back in Boston; his ship is moored at Tileston’s Wharf. It’s he who is responsible for the grave robberies I mentioned. He’s using the shades of the dead to strengthen his own conjurings and deny the rest of us access to the power we need to cast.”
A Plunder of Souls (The Thieftaker Chronicles) Page 28