Thieftaker

by D. B. Jackson

  “Yes, sir. Simply put, Peter Darrow killed Jennifer Berson, and he came close to killing me. He was shot by Mister Adams, who acted to save my life.”

  Hutchinson gave no sign that any of this came as a surprise. Ethan assumed that he had been told as much by the sheriff.

  “Why would Darrow kill the Berson girl?” he asked.

  Ethan hesitated, unsure of how much to tell the man about Darrow’s conjuring abilities, not to mention his own.

  “I’ll be honest with you, Mister Kaille. Much of what I’ve heard about the events of last night strikes me as … fantastical, to say the least. I don’t know what to believe. Now, you tell me that Darrow killed Jennifer Berson, but obviously you are reluctant to tell me why he would do such a thing. Put yourself in my place, and tell me what I should think of all this.”

  Ethan gazed toward Boston. It felt wrong to speak of murders and shootings here in this gentle place. But he doubted that Hutchinson would have much patience for evasions.

  “Darrow practiced the dark arts,” he said, facing Hutchinson again. “He was what some would call a witch, and others a conjurer. He used his powers to bend men to his will, and in order to do this he had to sacrifice the lives of others. Jennifer Berson was one such sacrifice.”

  Hutchinson stared at him for a long time. “That’s quite an explanation.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I assume that Darrow did these things you describe to further the cause of … of liberty.” As he had the other time he and Ethan spoke, Hutchinson said the word as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Ethan shook his head. “No, sir. He indicated to me that he was an agent of the Crown, and an enemy of Samuel Adams and the Sons of Liberty.”

  The lieutenant governor opened his mouth, then closed it again and sat back in his chair. Ethan thought that Hutchinson would object to this as Berson had. But he didn’t. Eventually he simply said, in a voice barely more than a whisper, “I see.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes, until Ethan began to wonder if Hutchinson was done with him and expected him to leave.

  But after a time, the lieutenant governor regarded Ethan again, seeming to take his measure with his gaze. “I would think that someone who could draw upon such … dark powers would be difficult to overpower. At least he would be for an ordinary man.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hutchinson watched him, clearly waiting for Ethan to say more. When at last he realized that Ethan had no intention of telling him anything else, that faint smile returned. “Very well, Mister Kaille. It’s a long journey back to Boston, and I’m sure you would rather arrive before nightfall. I’m grateful to you for coming all this way to speak with me.”

  Ethan stood and sketched a small bow. “I’m honored that you asked me, sir.” He started back toward the entry hall, where Hutchinson’s servant waited for him. He had taken only a few steps, though, when the lieutenant governor spoke his name, stopping him.

  “What was Mackintosh’s role in all of this?”

  “He was a victim,” Ethan said, “turned to Darrow’s purposes by dark means.”

  Hutchinson grimaced, as if Ethan’s words had wounded him. “Of all that you’ve told me, I find that most difficult to believe.”

  “I think I understand, sir. But I give you my word, it is the truth.”

  “Yes,” the man said, a haunted look in his dark eyes. “Yes, all right. Thank you, Mister Kaille. My driver will see you back to Boston, and will drop you anywhere you wish.”

  Ethan bowed again, and left.

  * * *

  The ride back to Boston passed more quickly than had the journey to Milton. Before long, he could smell the sour mud of the Roxbury tidal flats and see the causeway that led toward the town gate and the Boston Neck.

  As the carriage entered Boston and drove up the Neck toward the church spires and brick buildings of the South End and Cornhill, Ethan considered where to have the driver take him. Pell would want to hear about his conversation with Hutchinson, and eventually Ethan would need to pay another visit to Elli’s house to see how Holin was doing. That was where Kannice thought he would wind up—he could tell from the way she had looked at him just before he left the Dowser that morning.

  The truth was, though, all he wanted to do was go to the tavern, eat a bit of stew, and be with her. So that was where he went.

  She made no effort to hide her surprise, or her pleasure, when he walked in.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she said from behind the bar.

  He crossed to the bar and sat on an old stool. “I talked to Berson and visited Thomas Hutchinson’s estate in the country. The only place I could go to top that was the Dowser.”

  Kannice stared at him openmouthed. “You were at Hutchinson’s estate? In Milton?”

  “Yes,” he said, as if it was nothing unusual.

  “HiEthan,” Kelf said, emerging from the kitchen.

  “Hi, Kelf.”

  “Is it beautiful?” Kannice asked. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

  Ethan nodded. “It was very nice. I wouldn’t mind living there myself.”

  “Ethan went to visit Thomas Hutchinson in Milton,” Kannice told Kelf.

  “Nice,” Kelf said, sounding unimpressed.

  Kannice stared at the barman for a moment before facing Ethan again, her eyes narrowed. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

  “I swear I’m not.”

  She regarded him briefly. “And you didn’t go anywhere else?”

  “I went home and changed my clothes. But I didn’t go to Elli’s if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking away. “I shouldn’t—”

  “It’s all right,” Ethan said, touching her chin so that she would face him again. “I had Hutchinson’s driver drop me here, because this is where I want to be.”

  Before Kannice could reply to that, the tavern door opened and Sephira Pryce walked in, followed by Yellow-hair and Nap.

  Ethan stood and took out his knife. Kelf stepped out from behind the bar, and though Ethan put out a hand to keep him back, there was a part of him that would have enjoyed watching him and Nigel have at it. Ethan had seen both men fight and he would have been hard-pressed to choose a likely winner.

  “I don’t allow their kind in here,” Kannice said, eyeing Sephira with open hostility, and pointing to her toughs. “I’m not sure I allow your kind, either.”

  Sephira smiled and sauntered to the center of the room, ignoring Kannice, her boot heels clicking loudly on the wood floor. She surveyed the tavern, her gaze coming to rest at last on Ethan.

  “What a charming place, Ethan. It’s like a stable, but for people. I can see why you like it so much.”

  “What do you want, Sephira?” he asked.

  “I just came to congratulate you,” she said, flipping her hair. “It’s not every day that a man kills someone as well known as Peter Darrow and gets away with it. I’m very impressed. I’d show you how impressed, but I’m afraid your little friend might get jealous.”

  Kannice stalked out into the main room. “His little friend?” she repeated. “I’ll show you just how little I am, you ha’penny whore!”

  Ethan grabbed Kannice’s arm and pulled her back. Nigel and Nap took a menacing step forward, as did Kelf. For a moment Ethan thought he might actually have to conjure to keep Kannice and Kelf from getting themselves killed.

  But though Sephira’s mask slipped for an instant, she recovered quickly. “She’s fiery, Ethan. I like that.”

  Ethan stared back at her, toying with his knife. “I think you had better go, Sephira.”

  She flushed, looking daggers. Ethan couldn’t imagine she was accustomed to being dismissed.

  “All right,” she said, her voice tight. “Remember, though: You might have defeated Darrow, but you’re still nothing more than a poor man’s thieftaker. You work in this city because I allow it.”

  “So you’
ve told me.”

  She eyed him for a few seconds more before flashing one last smile at Kannice and turning on her heel to leave.

  “Why did you care about this, Sephira?” Ethan asked her. “What was Darrow to you?”

  Her grin was taunting, and he thought she would leave without answering. But then she said, “He was nothing. A means to an end. I like things as they are, as they’ve been. Change…” She shrugged. “Change could be bad for business.”

  Ethan gaped at her. “You knew he was working for the Crown?”

  Sephira sighed and shook her head. “Ethan, the sooner you understand that I know everything that happens in this city, the easier life will be for both of us.” She opened the tavern door. “Until next time,” she tossed over her shoulder, and was gone.

  Nigel and Nap followed her out into the street.

  Once they were gone, Ethan took a breath and sheathed his blade. Kelf watched the door, as if he expected them to storm back in at any moment.

  “She’s got some nerve coming in here like that,” Kannice said. “She may be the Empress of the South End, but if she comes in here again, I’ll wipe that grin off her face myself.”

  “Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me that I need to be more careful?” Ethan asked her. “Don’t you always tell your customers to leave their fights out in the street, away from your tavern?”

  Kannice turned her glare on him. “What of it?”

  Ethan threw his hands wide. “You just called Sephira Pryce a ha’penny whore!”

  “Kind of liked that myself,” Kelf said, heading back into the kitchen.

  Kannice smiled grudgingly. “She deserved it.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” Ethan told her. “But now you’re going to have to watch yourself, too. You made an enemy today.”

  She stared into his eyes. “I’m not afraid of her,” she said, dropping her voice. “I share my bed with a conjurer.”

  “And I share mine with the most fearless woman in Boston.”

  Kannice took his hand. “You want some stew?”

  He shook his head. “I need a coat. Come with me?”

  “A coat? A nice one this time, or another rag like that last one?”

  “Rag?” Ethan repeated. “That was no rag.”

  “Hmmm.” She retrieved her own wrap from behind the bar, took his hand again, and pulled him toward the door. “I’ll choose this one,” she said. “I know just the place to get it.”

  He halted, forcing her to stop as well. He pulled her close, and kissed her.

  “What was that for?”

  Ethan brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “For being willing to take on Sephira Pryce to defend me.”

  “That wasn’t for you,” she said, tugging him toward the door again. “I didn’t like her calling my place a stable.”

  Ethan laughed and followed her out into the city.

  Historical Note

  Historical fiction is a strange hybrid—a literary Chimera, in a way—in that it blends historical fact with fictional, and in the case of this book, fantastical elements. The central premise of the book, that thieftakers were active in the American colonies, is not true. Thieftakers were starting to appear in England at this time, and made a brief appearance in the fledgling United States in the early nineteenth century. But there were no thieftakers in Boston in 1765. Sephira Pryce and Ethan Kaille have no direct, real-world counterparts.

  However, the other historical elements of the novel are largely accurate. The Stamp Act riots of August 26, 1765, occurred much as they are described here, and the relationship between Ebenezer Mackintosh and his followers on the one hand, and the members of the Loyal Nine on the other, was fraught with mistrust and characterized by mutual exploitation.

  In writing the novel, and interweaving my fictional characters and storylines with actual events, I have consulted a number of scholarly sources, as well as documents from the pre-Revolutionary period. A partial list of my sources for this book—along with lots of other information—can be found at my website: www.dbjackson-author.com.

  Acknowledgments

  I’ve written history, and I’ve written fiction; this was my first foray into writing them simultaneously. Not surprisingly, I needed a good deal of help along the way and so have many people to thank.

  John C. Willis, Ph.D., Professor of United States History at Sewanee, the University of the South, answered literally hundreds of questions, and steered me to some terrific source material. Our morning conversations at the gym, as we pedaled our stationary bikes to nowhere, made this process even more enjoyable than it would otherwise have been.

  Christopher M. McDonough, Ph.D., Professor of Classical Languages at Sewanee, translated spells into Latin for me, and during one memorable lunch, taught me more about Latin grammar and syntax than I had learned in the previous forty-odd years. Without his efforts on my behalf, writing about Ethan’s conjurings wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.

  Dr. Robert D. Hughes, Professor of Systematic Theology at the School of Theology of the University of the South, guided me through the proper honorifics for eighteenth-century ministers, and the steps to ordination for Anglican clergy in the colonies. I’m grateful to him for being so generous with his time and expertise.

  I would like to thank as well the Norman B. Leventhal Map Center at the Boston Public Library for allowing us to use the map of Boston that appears at the front of the book. I am especially grateful to Catherine T. Wood, the Center’s office manager, for all her help in locating the map and expediting the process. My wonderful friend Faith Hunter read an early draft of the book’s opening pages and provided me with welcome feedback. I am deeply grateful to her, and also to Misty Massey, C. E. Murphy, A. J. Hartley, Stuart Jaffe, and Edmund Schubert. I’m grateful as well to Kate Elliott, Stephen Leigh, Lynn Flewelling, Carrie Ryan, Joshua Palmatier, and Patricia Bray, all of whom helped to shape this book through e-mails, online exchanges, and the occasional conversation over a beer.

  Lucienne Diver, my agent, believed in Ethan and his story from the start. Without her tireless work, her editorial feedback, and her friendship, we might never have found a home for the series. I would also like to thank Deirdre Knight, Jia Giles, and the other great people at the Knight Agency.

  James Frenkel, my editor at Tor, was the first person to suggest that Ethan might be better off living in a historical setting rather than in an imaginary world. With his encouragement, I rewrote Thieftaker, and the rest is history. Or at least historical fantasy.

  In addition, I’m grateful to Jim’s assistants, Leslie Matlin and more recently Kayla Schwalbe, and his intern, Hannah Morrissey; Tom Doherty, Irene Gallo and her staff, Steven Padnick, and all the other wonderful people at Tor Books.

  Finally, I want to thank my wife and daughters. Their love and support, their laughter and silliness, make everything I do more rewarding and more meaningful.

  TOR BOOKS BY D. B. JACKSON

  Thieftaker

  Thieves’ Quarry (2013)

  About the Author

  D. B. JACKSON is the award-winning author of a dozen fantasy novels, a half-dozen short stories, and the occasional media tie-in. His books have been translated into more than ten languages. He has a master’s degree and Ph.D. in U.S. history, which have come in handy while writing Thieftaker, and Thieves’ Quarry, the next novel about Ethan Kaille, which will be published in 2013. He and his family live in the mountains of Appalachia.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THIEFTAKER

  Copyright © 2012 by D. B. Jackson

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by James Frenkel

  Map production courtesy of the Norman B. Leventhal Map Center at the Boston Public Library

  A Tor Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

 
175 Fifth Avenue

  New York, NY 10010

  www.tor-forge.com

  Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Jackson, D. B.

  Thieftaker / D.B. Jackson. — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  “A Tom Doherty Associates book.”

  ISBN 978-0-7653-2761-1 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-4299-4732-9 (e-book)

  1. Magic—Fiction. 2. Boston (Mass.)—History—Revolution, 1775–1783—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3610.A347T48 2012

  813'.6—dc23

  2012011659

  e-ISBN 9781429947329

  First Edition: July 2012