D. Jackson - Thieves' Quarry

A pulse of power followed an instant later. Ethan grabbed for his knife, knowing that he had too little time, that he had been careless, and fearing that his foolishness would cost him his life.

He felt the spell rushing toward him; he could almost hear it humming in the cobblestones. It hit him full in the chest, knocking him off his feet, stealing his breath. He hit the ground hard, tried to get to his feet.

But he could feel darkness taking him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

A splatter of cold water to the face woke Ethan up. He opened his eyes, felt the world heave and spin, and squeezed them shut again. The last time he felt this way, he had spent the previous night celebrating his release from Barbados by drinking two flasks of Madeira wine all by himself.

“More water.”

He recognized that voice, but before he could open his eyes again, or tell them that the first splash of water had been enough, he was doused a second time.

“Time to wake up, Ethan,” Sephira said.

Someone snickered. Yellow-hair probably, or maybe Nap.

Ethan opened his eyes again, and though the world around him still spun, he managed to force himself up onto an elbow. He was lying on grass, and his first thought was that they had taken him to the Common again, as they had once before when intending to kill him. In the next instant he realized that if Sephira had wanted him dead, he would never have awakened. Surveying his surroundings, Ethan saw that he was on a lawn behind Sephira’s house. Yellow-hair, Nap, and Gordon stood nearby. Yellow-hair-Nigel-had a bucket in his hand and a mocking grin on his face.

Mariz stood apart from them. He had his sleeve rolled up and he had already cut himself. A small trickle of blood ran down his forearm toward his wrist. It was like having a loaded pistol pointed at Ethan’s head. Feeling the way he did, there was no way Ethan could conjure quickly enough to best the man.

“Those were good spells,” Ethan said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Detection?”

Mariz smiled and nodded, his spectacles flashing white for an instant as they reflected the glare.

“And a sleep spell?”

“Basically,” he said, his accent thickening the word.

“I have access to witchcraft now,” Sephira purred, looking far too pleased with herself. Her hair was down, black curls shining. She wore her usual clothes: black breeches, a matching waistcoat fitted snugly around her curves, a silk shirt cut low. As always, she looked stunning. “And I have my men as well. There’s nothing you can do to hurt me, and no way you can leave here without my consent. So you’re going to answer some questions for me, and after we’re done I’ll decide whether or not to kill you.”

Ethan answered with a short, breathless laugh. “That sounds fair. But can we do this over supper? I haven’t eaten all day.”

Sephira stared at him, then gave a laugh of her own. “All right.” She turned on her heel and started toward the house. “Bring him.”

The three toughs closed on him, but to Ethan’s surprise, Nap offered a hand and pulled him to his feet. They arrayed themselves around him, with Mariz following a few paces behind, and escorted him into the house.

Sephira had seated herself at the head of a long table in her dining room. Not for the first time, Ethan admired the tasteful artwork and tapestries that adorned her walls. She indicated with an open hand the seat to her right.

“Sit,” she said. “The food will be out momentarily.”

Ethan took his seat. The others remained standing nearby.

“You were eavesdropping yesterday.”

He saw no sense in denying it. “Aye. Rude of me, I know.”

“Why?” she asked, ignoring him. “What did you hope to learn?”

“I wanted to know more about Spectacles here,” he said, lifting his chin toward Mariz. “I overheard him in the Dowsing Rod the night before, and I saw that he sensed my spell.”

“It seems that too often you listen to other people’s conversations,” Mariz said. “This could get you killed.”

“Why did you eavesdrop on him in the tavern?” Sephira asked, drawing Ethan’s gaze again. “What is it you’re after?”

“I’m not after anything. I recognized Spectacles when he walked in. I’d seen him with Tanner, and since you had just robbed me of my earnings from that job, I was interested in hearing what he had to say.”

Before Sephira could ask him more, a servant entered the room carrying a platter of cheeses, fresh bread, apples, and pears. The man laid the food before them and retreated into the kitchen.

“Help yourself,” Sephira said.

Normally, Ethan would have hesitated to eat any food Sephira offered him that she didn’t eat herself. He didn’t think she was above poisoning a rival. But on this day he was so hungry that he didn’t even hesitate. He took cheese and bread and began to gorge himself. Sephira watched him, appearing amused. After a few moments she stood, retrieved two glasses and a flask of wine, and returned to the table. She poured a glass for Ethan and put it in front of him.

“Drink this, before you choke yourself,” she said.

Ethan swallowed what was in his mouth and took a long sip of wine.

“Thank you.”

“Where have you been that you haven’t eaten?” she asked.

“Who says I’ve been anywhere?”

“I do,” Mariz answered. “The detection spell by your home was not the only one. I placed one around that tavern as well. You did not go to either location until this midday.”

“Where were you, Ethan?” Sephira asked again.

Sometimes Ethan refused to answer Sephira’s questions simply on principle. Too often she treated him like he was another one of her lackeys. He resented it, and went out of his way to defy her. But on this occasion it occurred to him that he might learn something of value by telling her at least part of the truth.

“I was at Castle William.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Castle William,” she repeated. “Why?”

“Representatives of the Crown requested that I inquire into an assault on one of their ships. The Graystone. ”

He paused, allowing the vessel’s name to sink in. Sephira’s expression remained unchanged, but Mariz cast a quick look in her direction, and Nigel and Nap, who were leaning against the far wall of the dining room, exchanged glances.

“It seems someone used a conjuring against the ship,” Ethan went on. “Every man on board was killed.”

Even Sephira couldn’t mask her response to that.

“Every man?” she repeated, leaning forward. Her eyes flicked in Mariz’s direction before fixing on Ethan again. “You’re sure of this?”

“I’m sure. Every man on the ship was killed. Nearly a hundred in all.” He turned to look at Spectacles. “Whoever cast a spell that powerful would have had to take a life for the conjuring, don’t you agree?”

Mariz didn’t flinch from Ethan’s gaze. “ Sim, eu concordo. I agree.”

“I noticed the other day that you and your friend-Afton, I believe-were keeping a close eye on the British fleet. Was it the Graystone you were watching?”

“You are what my people would call an intrometido ,” Spectacles said, his voice low and menacing. “You meddle in the affairs of others when you should not.”

“Yes, Ethan has always been too inquisitive for his own good,” Sephira said, sounding far less concerned about his transgression than had Mariz. “I’ll admit, it’s not one of his more endearing traits.” She sipped her wine. “Our interest in the fleet is no different from that of any other person in the city. This business of the impending occupation has all of us on edge.”