The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  “Perhaps Hoburn and I should toast and you should partake in the roast pig?” Grace gestured with her free hand to the tables laden with food, and then moved her muzzle-hand to allow for a real response.

  “An excellent idea!” Cassandra tweaked Grace’s nose and wandered off in search of food.

  “Has she been drinking all morning? She smells like a winery.”

  “She was at the casks early, celebrating the food more than the wedding, I think. We all worried my lord wouldn’t allow the food to stay for fear of retribution. The whole village bit their nails hoping against hope the forbidden foods of Sera would be ours.”

  Grace shook her head. Enough food had come in to keep Arganis from going hungry over the winter, but she worried the prince was already making plans for more to come. “Let us not discuss that now. Not today. And here you are, on duty when there is wine and beer aplenty.”

  “Since you abandoned your post, someone has to keep the peace.” Like his wife, Hoburn tweaked her nose. “However, I shall be allowed a respite when the two o’clock hour is called. Perhaps this fine lady before me will favor me with a dance? I would ask my sweet, beloved wife, but…” He pointed to the food table, where Cassandra was singing loudly and carousing with one of the lumberjacks. “As you can see, my fair wife is otherwise occupied.”

  “Find me when you can, and I would be happy to share a dance.”

  As Grace moved off from Hoburn, she received compliments on the dress from her fellow guards and their wives. Some of the servants whispered and stared, thinking she dressed above her current station, and a good many of the village’s single men asked for a dance. Grace danced a reel or two, but stayed mostly seated, enjoying her wine and food.

  The day was cool, but inside the tents the air was warm and sometimes stifling. The braziers and the crush of people saw to that. Grace sat tapping her foot to the fiddle’s ballad and watched dreamily as Victoria and Calvin danced.

  “Well, well, look at you, playing the role you were born into.”

  Grace’s body stiffened and she slowly turned in her chair to face the voice. “Kay, however did you find your way to my cousin’s wedding?” Grace asked quietly, her heart jumping into her throat.

  Kay Lansa looked stunning in a red dress that fit perfectly around her curves, with her long, black locks piled high on her head. Her skin was a soft brown and her mouth was twisted into a smile. Her appearance drew attention, but no one had the nerve to come forward and ask for a dance or introduce themselves. Grace didn’t blame them. Kay had a deadly air about her. The pirate captain had twice put a price on Grace’s head.

  “Have you come to harass me or bully me into a fight?”

  Kay pulled out the chair next to Grace and sat, however, she sat as though she still wore pants, spreading her legs and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Grace knew Kay only did it to cause a sensation. Brute, Grace thought.

  “Hardly. I would be sailing for Nareroc now to weather out the stormy season in peace and warmth, but I was paid a tidy sum to sail up here.” From inside the bodice of her dress, the pirate produced a letter.

  Grace instantly recognized the writing. “Jack paid you?”

  “In a way. He gave Ridley coin to find someone willing to sail with all haste to Arganis. Don’t bother reading it now; it only states his love for you and asks that you understand why he took his newfound post.”

  “So you read my personal letter?” Grace snatched the missive and held it as though it were a fragile flower that would die if the cold touched it.

  Kay shrugged. “As did Marcus and Ridley. We ‘heathens born in the muck’ are a nosey breed. So…Mad Dog Anders – or should I say Sir Jonathan? How does it make you feel to hear that news?”

  “If you are trying to get me angry, I have known for years about Jack’s past.” Grace lifted her head, adopting a haughty air to annoy Kay.

  “Pity. I did want to spoil your fun today.” Kay laughed and traced a line down Grace’s cheek to her chin. When Grace slapped her hand away, it brought more notice than she would have liked. Drake and Tristan both started to make their way over.

  “I suppose you are staying in the village?” Grace quickly sat on the letter to avoid the knights from seeing it. They were almost halfway to her table.

  “The Pig and Flute. Only one inn…such a desolate place Arganis is. I was going to call on you tomorrow, but the innkeeper insisted I share in the celebrations.”

  “And your men?” Grace didn’t trust the crew of the Fearless Dawn. They liked to make trouble wherever they went.

  “I made them anchor far off shore, as I did not want to incur the wrath of Glenbard’s noblewoman. I took a row boat with only one guard.” She pointed to a dwarf who sat on Cassandra’s knee and sang a bawdy song called The Donkey and the Flower. Grace blushed, thinking of the words. “Look, you have admirers,” Kay remarked as Tristan and Drake stopped before them.

  “Are you being bothered, Grace?” Drake asked. Next to him, Tristan looked disgusted at the prince’s obvious interest in Grace.

  Kay pointed a finger at Tristan, who was mid-scowl. “Are you not an admirer of young Grace, Master…?”

  “Sir Tristan, and it is important to be civil, no matter a person’s personal feelings.”

  “That is a no, then. Please, Sir Knight, favor me with a dance?”

  Tristan looked at the prince for approval, and Drake responded with a smirk and a nod. Tristan bowed to Kay and helped her up from her seat. She curtsied, a courtly feat that impressed Grace, and the pair strode off to take part in the reel that was beginning.

  “Your friend is not from the village, I take it?” Drake asked, taking Kay’s place.

  “She comes from Glenbard.”

  “Then, the letter she gave you was from...?” Drake leaned closer.

  “No one, Highness.” Grace shifted uncomfortably.

  He smiled and patted her knee. “As you wish, Grace. Would you care to dance? Sir Tristan and your friend seem to be having a good time.”

  Grace turned to see Tristan and Kay dancing; Tristan leading her around the floor and both of them laughing together. Grace scrunched up her face as she imagined them laughing at her expense. She could take to the floor with the prince. She was a better dancer than Kay, but she didn't feel like showing them up.

  “Thank you, but I am tired. I think I will retire for a while.”

  Drake got up from his seat and helped Grace up. She quickly grabbed her letter and held it close with her free hand. Drake kissed her other hand and let her leave.

  Some merrymakers were outside the tents singing and laughing. Grace said hello to each one she passed as she moved across the courtyard, and then rounded the corner of the castle that led toward the kitchen. The wedding guests had not spread this far, so she had the rest of the walk to herself. As Grace moved along, she caught movement by the front gate.

  Two guards were on duty so no one unsavory could come in, but Grace didn't like what she saw: Kara coming through the gates toward the tents. When did she sneak out? And where did she go? The maid caught Grace's eye, smirked, and hurried for the wedding tents.

  ~*~*~

  Grace kept a silent watch on the village. Kay said only she and her companion had come in, but Grace didn't trust the woman.

  As the guests left the wedding, Grace stalked about as the Death Dealer, making sure miscreants didn't wait on the road to rob the merrily drunk. She stayed especially close to Kay, whom she believed would be responsible for any thefts, but Kay just went to the inn. She and her companion joined some of the lumberjacks and fisherman for drinking, singing, and dancing. Finally, the captain retired to her room for the night. As it turned out, she had no reason to worry about Captain Lansa stirring up trouble.

  Grace walked home through the abandoned tunnel and changed into a dress and cloak, leaving her Death Dealer garb hidden at the bottom. She took the tunnel back in the dark, feeling along the walls as a way to guide herself.
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br />   She emerged in the stables to the sound of the prince. “Leave me be, knave!” he snapped.

  Grace poked her head over the wall of the abandoned stall to see a lithe figure in black advancing on the prince. Both had swords drawn, and Drake already sported a ripped and bloody sleeve. The figure wore an executioner's hood, much like the one Grace just left in the well. She drew her sword and stood as tall as she could.

  “Begone foul murderer!” she shouted.

  The brown eyes under the hood flicked to Grace, and then the false Dealer took a step back before he turned tail and ran.

  “Arganis, awake!” Grace screamed, giving chase. She ran out of the stables after her quarry. “Men of Arganis awake! A foe is at hand!” she screamed again.

  The guards on the night watch streamed out of the gate house and lined the walls. Some notched their bows and aimed for the retreating figure in black, but they were too slow. The false Dealer already had a fine head start and barreled through the gate, cutting down the two men who held it.

  “Fetch Sir Leon,” Grace commanded. “And someone fetch a healer.”

  She ran to the gate. Both guards lived, but in the poor light Grace couldn't be sure of the severity of their wounds. As she cut pieces of her cloak to make bandages, Drake came up beside her. He helped her move the guards back into the gatehouse. One had been sliced across the chest, but he wore a heavy leather jerkin that took most of the damage. The other man bled from his thigh. Grace washed the wound and Drake dressed it.

  “Who was that?” the man in the jerkin asked.

  “I believe,” Drake answered quietly, “that was the man who killed Duke Brayden.”

  Fourteen

  Ridley didn't like the feel in the city. She missed Jack. He would have made her feel better about things. Tomorrow was the day of his vote, and she knew he would be gone soon after that. Ridley sat in her room with the candles extinguished, looking out the window. She tried to get back onto the castle grounds after Jack sent his message, but the same guards who once let her in now blocked her path. Twice she tried. The first time they kindly turned her back, but the second time they almost grabbed her and threw her in the lock-up.

  She spent the last few days avoiding the chill in the air from the semi-comfort of her bedroom while Marcus held conferences with his thieves. He knew about the vote to quarter Escion soldiers in Glenbard and he was not pleased. However, his bigger concern was keeping his people fed. Instead of their usual cut purse and burglary plays, Marcus had everyone using what coin the Guild had acquired in the last few months to buy up stores. The King of Thieves even rented out the cellar at the Emerald Tavern to hold what they bought.

  Ridley was given no part in these plans, so her boredom crept in. In the kitchen she could hear the mumblings between other thieves and Marcus, but Marcus insisted she stay out of it. She wasn't sure if he was worried about her or if he still didn't trust her, but either way Ridley felt useless. She wanted to do something. Dance, cause mischief, practice her knife throwing. Anything.

  In the night, she saw movement outside her window. She sat up on her bed and squinted into the darkness. Bodies moved about on the street, but not the normal folk. No – these people were moving into positions, ducking into alleys and trying to keep hidden.

  Ridley nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of splintering wood. It must have been a signal, because all the shadows that were hidden ran from their hiding spots for her house. Downstairs, she heard shouting.

  “You are under arrest, Marcus!” Ridley knew the voice of Captain Ericson well enough to know he was the one who had broken into their home, and from the sound of the wood cracking, he must have brought a battering ram with him. Ridley sat still in her bed, not even daring to breathe.

  “Arrested? For what?”

  “The murder of Duke Brayden.”

  Ridley sprang into action. She knew Marcus, and she knew he wouldn't go peacefully over a false charge. She needed to get help. Magistrate help. She would sit in front of the castle screaming until Jack came out if she had to. Even if this brought Ericson down on her, she had to try.

  Ridley went to her window and swung both legs out. It was a long fall, but she was practiced at it. She, Marcus, and Thom had been forced to flee enemies in the past. Thom! Why did Marcus ever send him away? Thom would know how to reach Jack without bringing attention on them. Unfortunately, Ridley didn't have any other choice.

  Ridley jumped, tucking and rolling to absorb the impact. From inside the house, she heard the sound of steel against steel. Battle was joined, and her retreat didn't go unnoticed.

  “Grab her! We are not to let anyone escape!” a guard called behind her.

  Ridley ran faster. She didn’t think to put shoes on, so her feet were picking up all manner of filth and pebbles as she ran. She knew the alleys and the exits. She'd lose the pursuers soon enough.

  She ducked down an alley that led into a maze of backways. If she kept to it long enough, she'd get to the entrance of the sewers. She could hide for a while there. Ridley ran past the back door to a lodging house when a figure stepped out and grabbed her by the arm.

  “Don't scream, it's me.”

  “Captain Moore?”

  The captain pulled Ridley through the door of the lodging house, and Ridley saw a few thieves standing around. Moore waved them all away.

  “You making a play for Marcus's throne?” Ridley growled. She wanted to claw his eyes out for bringing Ericson down on them. She should have known all this time he was just trying to gain control of the Guild.

  “Calm down, Ridley,” a tiny woman with black hair said. “The captain stopped us from getting caught at the house tonight.”

  “But he left Marcus to be accused of murder!”

  Nathaniel clamped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t make so much noise! I wanted to get word to Marcus, but Ericson was having me watched. Robert of Escion got a magistrate's warrant to bring in Marcus. He offered me the glory of arresting him, but I turned it down. I may not like your father, but I wanted to bring him in honestly, not through bribery and false documents. Where is the honor in hobbling an enemy like that? So I had a few of the men I could trust bring messages around to known Guild members. I tried to have one of my sergeants reach Marcus, but...”

  “Marcus wouldn’t let him in the door,” Ridley finished the statement. The day before, a guard sergeant tried to muscle his way in, but Marcus had none of it. He very nearly sliced the man just to get rid of him.

  “Aye, I did not want him to be caught unawares when Captain Ericson burst through the door with his battering ram. I sent a man to try and find Thom on the road, as well.”

  Ridley felt lightheaded suddenly. She swayed a little, but Nathaniel caught her. “Why would you bother?” she asked.

  “I need Marcus to help me keep the peace this winter. Like your folk would listen to anything I have to say. It is going to be a hungry winter, and people do mad things in hard times. I thought I could count on Marcus to help. Everyone here is safe…everyone except you.”

  “Me?” Ridley raised an eyebrow.

  “Ericson wants Marcus, but he wants to make sure his seconds do not try to seize his throne in Marcus’s absence. That is why I sent someone to find Thom, to warn him to stay away. If you all go to the gallows or the hard labor camps, who will help feed Rogue's Lane?”

  “None of that seem to bother you before when you took high bribes and tried to run us out of the Lane.”

  Nathaniel sighed. “Hard times are ahead. The Guild and the Guard can come to blows after winter passes. If people riot over the lack of food, whom do you think the Lane will listen to? Me or Marcus? It is how it has always been.”

  Ridley seethed at his words. Not so long ago he was trying to ruin the Guild, and now he wanted their help? And all he offered in return was more ruin and damnation when the winter passed. She wanted to punch him, but since he pulled her to safety from pursuers she at least owed him temporary cooperation.

&n
bsp; “Now Ridley, please do as I say. Go to the temple district. Go to Kamaria, Ciro, even Diggery; just seek sanctuary. Ericson cannot touch you if you do that.”

  “Then what? Am I to sit in the temples for a year and a day? And after that, I either ask to be made a priestess or else I will be turned out for Ericson to arrest me?” Ridley yanked away from Nathaniel. Her heart thumped in her chest so loudly, she was sure he could hear it.

  “Have faith that this matter will be settled before that happens. Now, please go with all speed. I will try to reach you when I can. I may need you to take temporary control of the Guild.”

  Ridley, still unsure of the captain's motives, did as she was commanded. She knew she would be safest in the temples. Even the Duke of Escion couldn't overstep the law of the gods.

  Ridley ran for all she was worth, shoeless, in nothing but her nightdress, to Golden Road, home of the temples. She burst into Diggery's temple screaming for sanctuary. The head priest gave her food and drink before taking her to a small room with naught but a bed, telling her it was available for those in dire need.

  When Ridley awakened the next day, news reached her that Marcus and five of the Guild members with him had been arrested. The Princess of Thieves, brave and strong, curled into a ball and cried.

  ~*~*~

  Jack headed from his rooms to the council room. Today they voted on his father's request to quarter Escion soldiers in Glenbard. One vote, and Jack could be free to join Grace in Arganis. Their shared dream gave him confidence. He would see her soon, and they would put this whole sordid mess behind them.

  The other magistrates were already seated when Jack arrived. They discussed the grain shortage, crime, and the manhunt for Duke Brayden's assassin. No one had seen the Death Dealer since the murder. Jack guessed they'd never find the murderer because Frederick didn't want them to, but he kept this to himself.

  Finally, the time came for Robert to make his case as the final piece of business. He could write his letter of resignation once he left the chamber.