D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

He dismissed this last idea as rash; Ramsey was not a foe with whom he could trifle. Before he confronted the man, he needed to know more about what he had already done, and where his scheming might lead.

He made his decision and headed up Merchant’s Row toward the North End. Sephira would not be pleased with him when she learned that he had gone to speak with Mr. Wise without her permission. He could not have cared less.

Burrel’s Wharf was a broad pier off of Fish Street. It jutted out into the harbor between Clarke’s Wharf and Lee’s Shipyard, where Diver once worked. Sebastian Wise’s warehouse stood closest to the street. Upon entering it, Ethan was presented with a scene similar to that which he had seen on Long Wharf. Laborers sorted through the ruin of spoiled foodstuffs and shattered plates and glasses, while a man in a green silk ditto suit looked on, rage and disgust etched in his features.

This man appeared to be a few years older than Ethan himself. His black hair was salted generously with white, but his mien was youthful, and he was hale and stood straight-backed.

Ethan intended to approach him, but almost as soon as he entered the warehouse, he was accosted by a brawny laborer brandishing a wooden cudgel.

“Who are you?” he said, more growl than question.

“I’m here to see Mister Wise.”

“That’s not what I asked, is it?”

Ethan allowed himself a smile, his eyes holding those of the brute. “My name is Ethan Kaille. I’m a thieftaker, and I would like very much to speak with your employer.”

“He’s a bit busy right now, and as far as I know, he ain’t had nothin’ pinched.” He took hold of Ethan’s arm. “So I think it’s time you was leavin’.”

Ethan didn’t budge, nor did he allow his smile to slip. “I understand that you’re doing your job, and I know as well that you wouldn’t guess it from looking at me, but you’re taking a bit of a risk right now. So, let go of me before I shatter every bone in your arm, and tell Mister Wise that Ethan Kaille is here to see him.”

The brute blinked, his mouth hanging open.

“Who is this, Robert?”

Ethan and the brute turned. The well-dressed man had ventured a few steps closer.

“My name is Ethan Kaille, sir. I’m a thieftaker and an associate of Sephira Pryce. Are you Sebastian Wise?”

“I am.”

“I wonder if I might speak with you, sir. I won’t take up much of your time.”

“Yes, of course.” He beckoned Ethan over.

Ethan patted the brute’s shoulder as he stepped past him. “My thanks, Robert.”

“You say that you’re a friend of Miss Pryce?” Wise asked as Ethan joined him.

“I believe ‘associate’ is the better word. I’m gathering a bit of information on her behalf. Your business arrangement is with her, of course. But I’m conducting an inquiry that I believe is related to hers.”

“I see. And you said your name is Kaille?”

“Aye.”

“The same Kaille who took part in the Ruby Blade mutiny?”

Ethan felt his cheeks burn. But he refused to look away. He had labored fourteen years for his crime, suffering indignities and injuries that would remain with him for the rest of his life. He refused to be shamed by this man or any other.

“One and the same, sir,” he said.

“I remember reading of the incident,” Wise said, “although many of the particulars escape me now. I was a young man at the time.”

“So was I.”

“A fair point,” Wise said. “What can I do for you, Mister Kaille?”

“I just have a few questions for you, sir. I’m wondering if you have had dealings with Captain Nathaniel Ramsey?”

“The elder or the younger?”

“Either.”

“I haven’t personally, no. But my father did, before he died. He was Sebastian Wise as well, and he did business with the elder Ramsey, until the captain’s death.”

“Have you ever met the younger Ramsey?”

“Not that I remember, though I suppose it’s possible I have.”

You would remember, Ethan wanted to say. But he kept that thought to himself. “Can you tell me anything about the business your father conducted with Captain Ramsey?”

Wise shrugged, marking the progress of his workmen with his dark eyes. “I don’t believe there was anything unusual about it. My father was a merchant, as am I. Captain Ramsey transported items, which my father bought from him and sold at a profit.”

“Yes, sir. Can you tell me if your father also had dealings with Isaac Keller and Deron Forrs?”

“I believe so, yes. But they both died years ago, not long after Ramsey died, if I’m correct. What do they have to do with all of this?”

“To be honest, sir, I’m not sure yet. I have one last question, and I’ll leave you to your work here. And I hope you’ll forgive me for the indelicacy of this. But have you recently lost a loved one?”

Wise recoiled. Clearly this had been the last thing he expected Ethan would ask. “No, I haven’t.”

Ethan had been so sure. “No one?” he asked. “Not in the past half year or so?”

“Not in the past four years. My father died back in sixty-five, but since then, thank the Lord, we have been quite fortunate.”

Ethan nodded. He knew that he looked troubled by what should have been glad tidings, but for a moment his confusion allowed him no other response. At last he managed to say, “Yes, sir. I’m glad to hear that.”

“But you were expecting me to say something else.”

“I was,” Ethan admitted.

“Can you tell me why?”

Ethan rubbed a hand over his face. “It would take me some time to explain it all, sir, and you have more pressing matters to which to attend. Suffice it to say that I thought that your connection with Ramsey might be one of several things you would have in common with others I’ve spoken to in the past few days. I was wrong.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Wise said. “But as you say, I have other matters to occupy my time.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be going. Thank you for answering my questions.”

Ethan left the warehouse, tipping his hat to Robert as he walked past.

From Burrel’s Wharf, it was but a short distance back to the Rowan mansion on Ellis Street. For the second time in less than a day, Ethan knocked on the door and was admitted to the great house. Before long, he stood in Alexander Rowan’s study, shaking hands with the old man.

When Ethan asked him about the elder Captain Ramsey, Rowan indicated that Ethan should sit in an armchair set before the empty hearth. He took the chair beside Ethan’s.

“I remember Nathaniel well. I was shocked when I learned of his death. He was a decent man, and a fine sailor from what I understand.”

“Did you and he have extensive dealings?”

“For a time, yes. But at the risk of being too candid, he turned to smuggling in the final years of his life, and I wanted no part of that. I told him so, and we stopped doing business.”

Ethan hadn’t expected this, either. “Did you know Isaac Keller and Deron Forrs?”

Rowan’s expression turned shrewd. “You know more about this than you let on, Mister Kaille. Forrs and Keller were among those who bought smuggled goods from the man.”

“Yes, sir. And did you do business with them as well?”

The old man laughed. “With Isaac and Deron? No. They disliked me and I felt the same way about them.”

Ethan started to ask another question, but was interrupted by the thrum of a distant spell, one so powerful that he could feel it vibrating in his chest. He closed his eyes, trying to gauge how far the pulse had traveled, where it was headed. He couldn’t tell what sort of spell it was, but he had an inkling of who had cast it. He needed to leave-there was too much he didn’t understand. But first …