D. Jackson - Thieftaker

“The woman. The one who owns that tavern.”

He had never mentioned Kannice to her, in large part because she had made it clear that she didn’t want to know any more about his life than she absolutely had to. She must have heard about Kannice from Holin and Clara.

“Her name’s Kannice.” They stood there for several moments, saying nothing. Ethan felt his cheeks reddening and he wasn’t sure why. “Well,” he said, bending to pick up the rest of his clothes. “I’ll change back into these and be on my way.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she said, scowling at him and sounding much more like the Elli he had grown used to these past few years. “They can’t be dry yet. Wear what you have on. You can bring them back later. Clean.”

He smiled. “Again, thank you.” He pulled on his wet hose and boots, and walked to the door. “I can still put a warding on the house. You’d all be safer.”

“No,” she said. “Thank you.” Their eyes met again. “May God keep you safe.”

“And you.”

He pulled on his damp coat, opened the door, and stepped once more into the rain and darkness.

As soon as he was outside, Ethan pulled his knife free, forced up his coat sleeve and the shirtsleeve beneath, and cut his forearm.

“ Velamentum ex cruore evocatum. ” Concealment, conjured from blood.

He didn’t need to feel the resonance of the spell in his body and in the street beneath him to know that he was taking a great risk. The spell would allow him to walk the lanes without being seen. Sephira and her toughs could walk right past him without knowing he was there. But if the conjurer was still hunting him, the casting of the spell might well alert him to Ethan’s whereabouts. And Ethan suspected that a man of such power would see right through a concealment charm.

Nor was he done taking risks. He strode back to Cooper’s Alley, where Pitch still lay. He couldn’t bury the dog without then telling Henry what he had done and why. But he could at least honor Pitch by placing his body where it belonged. He lifted the creature into his arms and bore him to the front of the cooperage. Kneeling, he laid him just outside Henry’s door, taking a moment to stroke the dog’s fur one last time. He didn’t dare do more.

Ethan stood and struck out for the Dowsing Rod. He still had his sleeves pushed up and he drew his knife again, in case he encountered the conjurer. He kept to narrower streets, even though it meant taking a longer route, and he did his best to move silently. Somehow he managed to make it to the Dowser without running across any of the people who wanted him dead. A minor miracle.

He tested the door of the tavern, expecting that he might have to use a spell on the lock. It was unbolted. Ethan let himself inside, pulling the door closed behind him. He was careful not to let the door close loudly, but at the click of the door handle, he heard Kelf call out from the kitchen “Who’s there?” in a voice that would have given Sephira pause.

He quickly cut himself again, and cast a second spell to remove the concealment charm.

The barkeep emerged from behind the bar carrying a large cleaver and guardedly peering toward the door. It was dark in the great room. The fire in the hearth had burned low, and all but a few of the candles had been extinguished, so it would have been hard for him to see Ethan anyway. And concealment spells didn’t wear off instantaneously.

“It’s me. Ethan.” As an afterthought, he pushed down his sleeve to hide the raw skin on his forearm.

Kelf lowered his weapon, still squinting at the shadows. “Ethan?” He shook his head. “Ya near t’ scared me t’ death.”

Ethan walked to the bar and sat on one of the stools. “I’m sorry, Kelf. I didn’t want to wake Kannice.”

“Ya didn’t?” Kelf asked, sounding confused.

“Long story.” When Kelf continued to gaze back at him, Ethan said, “I’m in a bit of trouble, and I didn’t want to go home. So I thought I’d come here and sleep downstairs; keep watch on the door.”

Kelf hefted the cleaver again. “Ya need me t’ stay? Nothin’ personal, Ethan, bu’ ya’re not exactly th’ biggest fella in Boston. I can help ya.”

“That’s a kind offer, Kelf. But I can take care of myself better than you might think from looking at me.”

“Aye, I don’ doubt it,” the barkeep said. “Ya wiry types are like that.”

Ethan said nothing.

“Righ’ then. I’ll be on my way. I’ve jus’ finished up in there.” He grabbed his coat off the bar and started for the door. “Ya wan’ me t’ lock it?”

“Please,” Ethan said. “Good night, Kelf.”

“G’night, Ethan.”

Once Kelf had left the tavern, Ethan walked back to the door, cut his forearm once more, and placed a warding spell on the door. Reg appeared once again, glowing brightly in the dark room. The spell made the air hum; probably it sang through the streets. But as with the concealment spell, he believed the warding to be worth the risk.

Satisfied that the Dowser was secure for the night, he threw another log onto the fire, moved a pair of chairs in front of the hearth, and arranged them into a sort of bed. He hadn’t any blankets, and just about everything he had on was damp, but he thought the fire would cast enough warmth to let him sleep.

Just as he got himself settled, however, he heard the floorboards above him creak, and a moment later, footfalls on the stairway.

“Kelf?” Kannice’s voice.

“No, it’s me.”

“Ethan?” She came down the stairs, wrapped in a robe. “Are you all right?”

“Aye, I’m fine. It’s been a long night.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. I thought you couldn’t stay here until your work for Berson was finished.”

“That was before. Now I’d rather not leave you alone.”

She frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that, either.”

He nodded, thinking of Pitch and feeling his throat tighten. “The conjurer took Holin. I was able to get him back, and get away myself, but… but I had to do something terrible. After, I was afraid to go home, and I was afraid that if I didn’t come here, whoever this person is would take you next.”

“Why didn’t you come up?”

“I didn’t want to wake you. Also, I set a warding on the door. I want to make sure it holds, and I want to be able to take it off in the morning before Kelf gets here.”

“So you were with Elli tonight.” She offered it as a statement.

“I was. I had to get Holin home and-”

“I understand. I assume that’s where you got those clothes.”

Ethan felt his cheeks burn. “I was soaked, Kannice. I-”

She held up her hand, silencing him. Then she stooped quickly and kissed his lips. “I said I understand,” she whispered. “You were with Elli, and rather than stay there, you came here.”

“Yes, well, her stew is awful.”

Kannice punched his good arm, glaring and smiling at the same time. “Your clothes are wet,” she said, tugging gently at his shirt. “Come upstairs and we’ll take them off.”

He held her gaze. “That’s not why I came back here.”

“I know.” She took his hand and pulled him again.

Still, he didn’t stand. “All right. But ask me first.”

Her smile faded, though she continued to hold his hand. “What was the terrible thing you did?”

A tear rolled down his cheek, and then another. “I had to use a killing spell to get away; I had no choice. I had to… to kill Pitch.” He looked away, a sob escaping him. “He showed up just in time. It was like he knew I needed him.” He covered his face with his hand, unable to keep from weeping.

“Oh, Ethan,” she said, her voice breaking on his name. She knelt beside him and ran her free hand through his hair. He knew she was casting about for something to say, and just as surely he knew there was nothing she could say to heal this wound.