D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

Kelf went back to drying glasses, but Kannice leaned on the bar across from Ethan, her chin in her hand.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“My arm, you mean?” he said, keeping his voice low. When she nodded, he said, “Still sore, but better.”

“Where will you-”

She stopped, staring toward the door, which had opened, allowing in a glare of sunlight. A frail figure entered the tavern, and paused at the door to take in her surroundings.

“Janna?” Ethan said, stepping away from the bar.

She limped toward him, scowling. “Kaille,” she said, in a voice that accused him of being responsible for all her troubles.

“What are you doing here? Why are you limping like that?”

“You and your damn questions. I’m limpin’ like this because I’m old, and I’m here because I’m lookin’ for you.”

He pulled out a chair for her at the nearest table and helped her to it. Kannice joined them at the table.

“This is Janna?” she asked, smiling at the woman.

“That’s right,” Janna said, regarding her with a wary eye. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kannice Lester. I own the Dowsing Rod. Miss Windcatcher, it is such an honor to meet you. Ethan has talked to me about you for years. I feel like I’m meeting royalty.”

Whether or not Kannice knew it, she had said the perfect thing.

Janna beamed at her. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest thing.” Janna faced Ethan. “This your woman?”

“Aye,” Ethan said.

“That’s what I thought. What on earth is she doin’ with you?”

“Can I get you something to eat, Miss Windcatcher?”

Janna hesitated.

“It’s on me, Janna,” Ethan said.

She smiled again. “Well, in that case, your stew smells fine.”

“I’ll get you some right away.”

“And a glass of Madeira,” Ethan said. Lowering his voice, he added, “Watered just a little bit.”

Kannice nodded and went back to the bar. Ethan sat across from Janna, who was surveying her surroundings.

“This is a nice place,” she said with grudging admiration.

“It was her husband’s once,” Ethan said. “From what I’ve heard it wasn’t much when he ran it. He died of smallpox in sixty-one and she took over, made it more respectable.”

Janna looked around for a moment more before settling her gaze on Ethan. “I’m guessin’ you know why I’m here.”

“I think I do,” he said. “You tried a spell and it didn’t work?”

“I tried several. I tried to send an illusion spell to talk to you, but I couldn’t even get an elemental conjurin’ to work. That ain’t happened to me since I was a girl.”

“I saw Gavin early yesterday. The same thing has happened to him.”

“I figured as much. So, what did you do?”

“Well, I told him that I would try-”

“No,” Janna said, leaning forward. “I mean what did you do to mess up my conjurin’?”

“Here you go, Miss Windcatcher,” Kannice said, bringing a steaming bowl of chowder to Janna. Kelf lumbered behind her, carrying what Ethan assumed was a cup of Madeira.

“Thank you,” Janna said, a smile brightening her face once more.

Kannice must have noticed Ethan’s expression, because she led Kelf away from the table saying, “We’ll be by the bar if you need anything else.”

For his part, Ethan could only gape at Janna, his mouth hanging open.

“Whatever you did,” Janna went on, her voice dropping, “you better fix it, and soon.”

“You think I did this?” Ethan said, knowing he sounded like a fool, but unable to think of anything else to say.

“Who else would it be?”

“This arm was broken last night, Janna,” he said, pointing to his left arm, struggling to keep his voice low so that the regulars wouldn’t hear. “And the other one had burns from the wrist to the shoulder. It took me a half-dozen castings to heal myself because I couldn’t get the spells to work. And you want to blame this on me?”

She looked down at her chowder. “I’m sorry. I just assumed…”

“Do you really think of me as being that careless or stupid or evil that I would do something to take away your power to conjure? For that matter, to you think I’m strong enough to do such a thing?”

“I think you’re stronger than you know, Kaille.” She looked up again. “But I know you’re not stupid or careless, and I know there ain’t an evil bone in your body. I’m sorry.”

Ethan nodded, still stung by her accusation. “We’ve had to apologize to each other a lot in the past few days.”

“I was thinkin’ that,” she said. “I’ll be more careful.”

“So will I.” He nodded toward her bowl. “How do you like your chowder?”

She picked up her spoon and tasted it. Her eyes widened. “That’s good,” she said. “A woman who looks like that and cooks like this? You should marry her before she comes to her senses and kicks you out.”

Ethan grinned, but then turned serious once more. “Did you know Nathaniel Ramsey?” he asked her.

“Which one?”

“Both, I suppose.”

She nodded, taking another spoonful of Kannice’s stew. “The father was a friend. I always liked him. He would come to see me when he put in to port. Sometimes he’d buy an ale or a meal. Sometimes he’d buy herbs from me. One time he brought me a great big shell he’d found in the islands.” Her smile this time was wistful. “Told me it was a piece of my home. I still have it. He was a good conjurer. Not the most powerful I ever met, but reliable.”

“What about the son?”

“I liked him, too, but I only met him a few times. The last time was right after his father died. He come to tell me that his papa used to say nice things about me. He didn’t stay long-seemed lost in a way, if you know what I mean. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Well,” Ethan said, “he’s back. And he’s the one who’s behind whatever is happening to our conjurings. He’s also responsible for the grave desecrations we talked about the last time I visited you at the Fat Spider.” He leaned in closer to her. “Last night, Kannice and I were talking about this. When we conjure, our ghosts give us access to the power between the realms of the living and the dead. There are shades all over Boston. The corpses Ramsey mutilated are now appearing as shades in their old homes. Could those ghosts be keeping us from casting our spells?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Might be they could keep our ghosts from that power you talked about. That’s the one way I can think they would do it.”

“Of course,” Ethan said. “That makes a good deal of sense.”

“But why would he do it?” she asked. “He needs to conjure, too, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but he’s controlling the ghosts. Do you remember that symbol I showed you?”

“Of course I do. Carving runes into corpses isn’t anythin’ I’m likely to forget.”

“Right. I think those symbols allow Ramsey to bend the shades to his will. And I also think that the shades recognize Ramsey’s spectral guide, and allow him to do as he pleases. Ramsey’s spells work just the way they’re intended. He made that much clear to me last night.”

“Why is he so angry with you?”

Ethan recounted for Janna his encounter with the captain back in 1763. “I believe he’s been making inquiries about me ever since. He seems to know a lot about me.”

“Including what that maimed foot of yours looks like.”

“Exactly.”

She shook her head, and took a sip of wine. “You’re gonna need help before all of this is through. You know that.”

Ethan thought of Mariz. “Aye, I know it.”

“So you tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll be there.”

He reached over and patted her hand. “Thank you, Janna.”