D. Jackson - Thieftaker

“You two are shameless,” he said. Pitch looked up at him, tail wagging, clearly pleased with himself.

After purchasing some food-he had to endure stares from the grocer and his wife, as well as their children-and returning with it to his room, Ethan had some tea and buttered bread for his breakfast. Then he set out again for the waterfront. Perhaps the boys working the warehouses knew something about the Dernes, and the Bersons as well. Eventually he would wind up back in the Dowsing Rod; whatever he couldn’t learn on the wharves he could find out there. Boston had its share of newspapers, but half of what their publishers printed they learned in Boston’s taverns.

Halfway to the Dowser, Ethan spotted Diver. His friend walked with his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched, his eyes scanning the street. Ethan came up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Diver jumped as if he had seen a snake and reached for his blade. Ethan took a step back, holding up his hands for his friend to see.

“Ethan!” he said. “Don’t do that, mate! You scared me half…” He stopped, gaping at Ethan’s face. “Damn! What happened to you?”

“Had a visit from Sephira and her men.”

Diver’s eyes went wide. “When?”

“Yesterday.” He dropped his voice. “I just took on a new job-Abner Berson-and Sephira doesn’t like me taking away her rich clients.”

“I thought you weren’t working for a while.”

“So did I,” Ethan said. “But this job is different.”

“I would think it is,” Diver said pointedly, “with Berson paying.”

“Speaking of jobs, why aren’t you at the wharf?”

The younger man’s expression soured. “Why d’you think?” he said. “I showed up this morning and no one was working. Mister Woodman was there himself turning boys away. ‘We don’t want any rabble working here today,’ he said. ‘And not for a while to come, either.’” Diver shook his head, his expression dark. “He wasn’t the only one, either. Merchants seem to think that every grub in Boston was with that mob. So I left and decided to go to the Dowser. But there’s talk of some of these merchants hiring toughs to walk the streets. ‘Keep the rabble at bay.’ That’s what they’re sayin’ anyway. Thought you were one of them, for a moment.”

“I figured it must be something like that,” Ethan said. “But you might want to think twice about reaching for your blade every time someone puts a hand on you.”

“It’s this deal with the French,” Diver said, his voice falling to a whisper as he glanced around to see that no one could hear. “Has me on edge, you know?”

“I figured that, too.” Ethan put his hand on the man’s shoulder again, and they started walking toward the tavern. “Come on. We’ll get a bite to eat.”

“You buying?” Diver asked.

“No, you are. Sephira took all my money.”

Diver frowned. “Hope you’re not too hungry.”

“Starved,” Ethan said with a grin.

The Dowser was as crowded as Ethan had ever seen it so early in the day. Nearly everyone turned as Ethan and Diver stepped inside. A few people stared hard at Ethan’s bruised face, but the rest quickly looked away again. The place fairly buzzed with conversation, though there was little of the boisterous laughter Ethan was used to hearing within these walls. On the other hand, the tavern smelled of good food and ale, as it always did. Some of the Dowser’s patrons stood at the bar eating oysters and drinking ale. Others sat at tables, eating creamed fish stew-chowder, as it had come to be known in Boston in recent years.

“Y’all right, Ethan?” Kelf said, running the words together, as Ethan and Diver crossed to the bar.

“Aye, thank you, Kelf. Where’s Kannice?”

“’N back. I’ll get her.”

“She seen you since…?” Diver gestured at Ethan’s face.

Ethan shook his head. “No.” But he was thinking more about the cross words they had exchanged before he left the previous morning. He should have known better.

She emerged from the kitchen wearing an icy expression, but as soon as she saw him it melted away. “God have mercy!” she said, her brow furrowing. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Ethan said.

“Yes, I can see that.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “You’ve never looked better. Tell me what happened.”

“I will, later,” he said, softening the words with a smile. “First, though, have you heard anything about merchants shutting down their wharves?”

She frowned and shook her head. “No. Not that it would surprise me, but I’ve heard nothing.”

“It might just be a few in the South End,” Ethan said to Diver. “Friends of Hallowell or Story, maybe.”

“We’ll be lucky if that’s all that comes of last night’s nonsense,” Kannice said, casting an accusing glare at Diver. “Wait until news of this reaches the king. And Grenville. Then there’ll be trouble.”

To his credit, Diver ignored her. “What about the wharves?” he asked. “How long do you think they’ll be sending us away?”

“Not long,” Ethan said. “The merchants will want to make it clear that they don’t like being at the mercy of street gangs and mobs. But they have ships to unload and goods to sell. That’s what they care about. I’d wager that you’ll be working the wharves again in a day or two.”

“I hope you’re right,” his friend said with so much relief that Ethan knew he was thinking about the rum and wine. Never in his life had Diver complained about a day off from work.

Kannice ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head and looking grim. “Frankly, if this is the worst of it-a bit of inconvenience for Diver and his friends-we should count ourselves lucky and keep our mouths shut.”

Ethan was inclined to agree, but before he could say so, Diver responded.

“It’s Grenville and his lot who should count themselves lucky,” he said. “Everything they do is meant to help them that are rich and leave the rest of us scuffling for a shilling and a meal. If that’s what they have in mind for us, we’d be just as well off on our own.”

Kannice whirled on him. “I won’t have seditious talk in this bar, Devren Jervis! Shouting in the lanes is one thing; treason is quite another! If you’re going to carry on about things you know nothing about, you had best be leaving!”

Diver took a step back, blinking. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Kannice. I was just speaking as a-”

“As a what? A fool? I knew that already!”

“As a man who’s got business in the streets,” Diver said, a wounded expression on his face.

Kannice drew herself up. “Well-”

“I need him to stay, Kannice,” Ethan broke in quietly. “He’s promised to buy me a bit of supper.”

She impaled Ethan with her glare. He knew what she was thinking: She would gladly have fed Ethan for free if it meant banishing Diver from her tavern. But after a moment, she relented.

“Fine then,” she said. She stared hard at Diver. “No more of that talk.”

“I promise,” Diver said.

She waved a hand toward their usual table at the back of the tavern and started toward the kitchen. “Sit down, both of you. I’ll bring some stew.”

Ethan and Diver seated themselves at the table. A moment later, Kannice brought them two bowls of chowder. She set the bowls in front of them and sat beside Ethan.

“Now,” she said, “about your face.”

Ethan took a spoonful of stew. It was as delicious as he remembered. Rich, slightly sweet, with just a hint of dill.

“Sephira Pryce,” he said quietly, after swallowing. “She wanted to impress upon me that I wasn’t to grow accustomed to working for men of Abner Berson’s means.”