D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

“We’re indebted to you, Mister Kaille,” Caner said. “I know that you refused once to let us pay you, but I would offer again.”

“My thanks, reverend sir, but I have no intention of changing my mind in this regard.”

“Very well.” Caner proffered a hand. “I suppose my gratitude will have to do instead.”

Ethan shook his hand, and allowed Pell to escort him from the chapel.

Once they were outside, the young minister said, “You spoke of Ramsey disappearing. Others indicated he was dead.”

“Aye. There’s some dispute about that.”

Pell eyed him, his youthful face pale and grave. “There’s no dispute. You’re convinced that he’s alive, and I’m inclined to believe you.”

Ethan gazed out over the churchyard, squinting against the sun. “I could be wrong.”

“I don’t think so. But I have to ask, if Ramsey yet lived, wouldn’t he still wish to control the shades he set loose upon the city?”

“In other words, why would he have his crew give back all that he stole from the burying grounds?”

“Aye,” Pell said.

“I haven’t an answer. It may be that his crew prevailed upon him to give up this particular fight. Or he may have feared that I would summon the ghost of his father once again. He didn’t like it when I did that; not at all. And I think he knows that I would have pursued the matter if he didn’t return all that he stole. He may believe that he’s bought for himself a bit of time.” Ethan shrugged. “He may well be right.”

“But you think he’ll be back.”

Ethan faced his friend. “Like I said, I could be wrong about all of this. I’ve spent the last several days watching over my shoulder, expecting at every turn to see Ramsey coming after me. Chances are, he really is gone. I came close to dying in that fire yesterday, and I wasn’t buried under half the building, the way Ramsey was.”

Pell seemed to weigh this. “Well,” he said. “He’s gone for now.”

“Aye, he is. And good riddance.”

From the chapel, Ethan walked out along the Neck to the Fat Spider so that he could look in on Janna.

He found her sitting at a table, a shawl around her shoulders and a cup of watered Madeira in front of her. She greeted him with a wan smile and waved him over to the chair next to hers.

“I’m tired today,” she said. “If you want some wine, you can get it yourself.”

“No, thank you. I just wanted to see how you’re healing.”

She pulled her shawl tighter. “I heal just fine.”

They sat for some time, not speaking, until at last Janna said, “Ole Black used to come around here every now and then, just to eat a bit and talk about his conjurin’ days. I’ll miss that.”

“I’ll miss him, too. We didn’t spend much time in each other’s company, but he was a good man and a reliable friend.” He stood. “I’ll come see you again soon, Janna.”

“All right.”

He walked to the door, but paused with his hand on the lever. “Do you think Ramsey is dead?”

“Do you?” she asked.

Ethan looked back at her. “I’m almost certain that he’s not.”

She didn’t appear surprised. “My spells are workin’ again.”

“Mine are, too. And the shades are gone. So, maybe I’m wrong.”

“Maybe. Just the same, you watch yourself. If he’s alive still, he’ll be comin’ back for you.”

Ethan nodded and left her, making his way to Cooper’s Alley and Henry’s cooperage. He found the cooper planing a new door for his room, and spent the rest of day helping Henry with repairs. When they were done, Ethan was able to lock his room again, which he did before returning to the Dowser to spend the night with Kannice.

They buried Nigel the next morning in the Common Burying Ground. Ethan reached the gravesite just as a minister he didn’t recognize began to speak. More people had come to the burial than Ethan would have expected. In addition to Sephira, Mariz, Nap, Gordon, and Pryce’s other toughs, he saw Greenleaf and several men of the watch, Dunc, and a number of people he didn’t recognize, including a young woman with two small, yellow-haired children. The woman and her children wept openly. Ethan had never stopped to consider that Nigel might have a wife and family. He felt like an idiot, and wondered if he should leave before too many people saw him there.

But even as the thought came, Sephira spotted him, her gaze lingering on him for the span of a heartbeat before returning to the minister. She didn’t send Nap or the others to chase him off, and he took this as leave to remain.

The service lasted but a few minutes. Sephira’s men lowered a large, simple coffin into the grave, and took turns throwing handfuls of dirt over it. Sephira said something to Mariz, who walked around the grave and approached Ethan.

“The senhora invites you to take part in the interment,” he said.

Ethan hesitated.

“It is all right, Kaille. None of us blames you for this.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said.

He followed Mariz to the gravesite and joined the line of mourners. When it was his turn, he bent, took a handful of earth in his hand, and tossed it onto the coffin, which was already mostly covered.

“Good-bye, Yellow-hair,” he whispered. He moved out of the way of the next person in line, and wound up next to Nap, who glanced at him and nodded a greeting.

When the last of the mourners had his turn, a pair of laborers, who until now had kept their distance, walked to the grave and began in earnest to fill it in.

Sephira approached Ethan.

“It was kind of you to come,” she said, with uncharacteristic sincerity.

“It was kind of you to let me stay.”

She shrugged, allowing her gaze to wander. She looked even lovelier than usual, dressed entirely in black, her curls hanging loose over her shoulders. Her eyes were dry, but he had never seen her so pale.

“He had a family?” Ethan asked.

Sephira nodded. “That surprises you.”

“Very much. And I feel like a fool because of it.”

“Well, good. Nigel always enjoyed making you feel like a fool.”

She grinned, as did Ethan.

“I’m sure he did,” he said. They fell into a brief, awkward silence. “I should go.”

“I lost two other men to Ramsey and his crew,” she said, before he could walk away.

“I know. I’m sorry for that.”

“Sheriff Greenleaf tells me that you think he’s still alive.”

“I think it’s possible.”

“If I meet him again, I’ll kill him on sight.”

“With my blessing,” Ethan said.

She nodded. “Good. As long as we understand each other.”

“We do in this.”

Her expression hardened. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning that I still plan to work for the wealthiest clients I can find, and there’s not much you can do to stop me.”

He saw a familiar gleam in her eyes. “That,” she said, “is a conversation for another day.”

* * *

It was a short walk back to the Dowser, but Ethan covered the distance slowly, his gaze fixed on the sparkling waters of the harbor. Several ships approached Boston’s wharves on sweeps, while others, their sails unfurled, carved across the water’s surface, heading out to sea. He spotted an eagle circling above, and his heart stopped for just an instant. A memory flashed through his mind: the eagle Ramsey had conjured to lead him out to the Muirenn before their reunion on Tileston’s Wharf a few days earlier.

This eagle, though, was real. He heard it cry out, saw it dive at a gull to steal a fish that the second bird carried in its beak.

Ethan breathed again.

“Where are you, Ramsey?” he said, whispering the words to the wind.