D. Jackson - Thieves' Quarry

He was still too close to the crowd watching the ships to pull out his knife and cut himself. Fortunately, he had the mullein. He took out the pouch, removed three leaves, and spoke a warding spell under his breath.

His conjuring whispered in the street, an answer to that distant spell, and Reg stared at him, insubstantial in the late-afternoon light.

A few seconds later, the other conjurer’s spell reached him, coiling around his legs. Another finding spell. It felt much like the conjuring Mariz had used to locate him earlier, and Ethan wondered if Sephira had already learned that Gant was still alive. He didn’t expect that he would have to wait long to find out.

He strode away from the crowded wharf, following Ann Street back toward Union, but halted before he reached the busy intersection. He preferred to face Mariz and Sephira where he could use his knife to conjure. And he had no intention of luring them closer to Kannice and the Dowser.

As he expected, Mariz reached him a short time later, though surprisingly the conjurer was alone.

Mariz stopped a few paces from Ethan and glanced around, a sour look on his thin face.

“It was you?” the man asked, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“Who else would it have been?”

“What are you doing here?”

Ethan smiled thinly. “I don’t answer to you, Mariz. Or to your boss.”

Spectacles looked like he might argue, but instead he shook his head and turned to leave again, back the way he had come.

“Who were you looking for?” Ethan called after him. “That finding spell would only have worked on a conjurer. Who did you think you would find here?”

“Stay out of my way, Kaille,” Mariz said over his shoulder. “This is none of your concern, and I see no need to involve you. But if I have to, I will kill you.”

“I think you’ll find that more difficult than you imagine.”

Mariz flashed a quick grin and continued away.

Ethan watched him go before making his way to the Dowser. Who had Mariz been looking for? Had another conjurer come to Boston? And if so, what did he or she have to do with Gant?

Ethan faltered in midstride.

Was Gant the conjurer? Sephira and Mariz had been interested in the Graystone , and Ethan felt certain that they were looking for Gant, just as he was. But it had never occurred to Ethan that Gant might be a conjurer, too. Ethan had used spells during his one encounter with the man, but his conjuring had been too inept and too weak to have much effect. Gant was able to escape without resorting to spells of his own. At the time, Ethan assumed that Gant didn’t possess any spellmaking abilities. But what if he had been mistaken?

He wondered for the first time if there had been not two but three conjurers on the Graystone. He could dismiss as mere coincidence the presence of two spellers on the ship, but not three. Maybe Sephira hadn’t brought Mariz to Boston because she wanted to match the man’s power against Ethan’s. Maybe she faced a more significant danger.

By the time he reached the Dowsing Rod, the sky had begun to shade to a dark, brooding gray, and Beacon Hill and the spire of West Church were dark silhouettes against the clouds. Ethan entered the tavern and was embraced by the warm scent of baking bread and some sort of savory stew. There were few people inside-it was early yet-and he spotted Diver right away.

Ethan crossed to the bar, tossed a half shilling to Kelf, and made his way back to where Diver was sitting, sipping an ale and reading the Gazette.

Seeing Ethan, his friend set the paper aside.

“Where have you been? Kannice was asking after you last night and I didn’t know what to tell her.”

“I spent the night at Castle William,” Ethan said, knowing that this would leave his friend speechless.

He wasn’t disappointed. Diver’s mouth fell open, but he couldn’t manage a word.

Kelf came to the table bearing a cup of ale, a bowl of beef stew, and a round of bread. “Hereyago, Ethan,” the barkeep said, running the words together as always. “Anythin’ for you, Diver?”

“Another ale,” Diver said, still staring at Ethan.

Once Kelf was gone, Diver leaned forward. “What were you doing out there?”

“It’s a long story,” Ethan said. “And I’m not sure how much I can tell you right now.” The tavern was filling up, and Ethan didn’t want to be overheard. Besides, trusting in Diver’s discretion was never the best idea, as he had been reminded two nights before. “It’s enough to say that I’ll be working on behalf of the Crown for the next few days.”

“The Crown?” Diver said, admiration in his voice. He nodded, his lips pursed. Ethan hadn’t seen Diver this impressed in some years, probably since he had worked for Abner Berson.

Ethan picked up his spoon and began to eat.

“Well, I’m sorry to say that I can’t tell you much,” Diver said. “I’ve looked for Spectacles the past two days, but I haven’t seen him. I’m not even sure he’s in Boston anymore.”

“His name is Mariz,” Ethan said between mouthfuls. “I think he’s from Portugal. I know he’s working for Sephira. I saw him right before I came here.”

Diver blinked. “Oh.”

Ethan grinned. He would have walked through fire to save Diver’s life, and Diver would have done the same for him. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t occasionally enjoy a laugh at his friend’s expense.

“He found me, Diver,” Ethan said. “He managed to use a sleep spell on me, and the next thing I knew I was at Sephira’s house.”

“Busy day.”

“Very.” Ethan sipped his ale. “Tell me this: Have you heard anything about Simon Gant coming back to Boston?”

“Gant?” Diver said, with a shake of his head. “Don’t even joke about something like that.”

“I’m not joking.”

Diver frowned. “I thought Gant was dead.”

“He’s not, although it seems possible that someone went to a good deal of trouble to try to kill him. I’m almost certain that he’s somewhere in the city, and that Sephira is looking for him.”

“Oh, I’m sure she is,” Diver said.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “You heard the same things I did. They had some kind of falling-out. And Sephira isn’t the sort to forgive and forget. If he’s alive, he’d be smart to get as far from here as he can.”

Ethan took one last spoonful of stew and set his bowl aside. Leaning in, he asked in a low voice, “Did you ever hear anything about Gant being a conjurer?”

Diver considered this. “Not that I recall. But didn’t you have dealings with him?”

“I did, but that happened a long time ago. He didn’t use any spells against me. He didn’t need to.”

Ethan sat back again and reached for his ale.

“There you are,” he heard from behind him.

He turned in his chair and smiled. Kannice was making her way to their table, a dishrag slung over her shoulder, candlelight shining in her auburn hair.

Reaching Ethan, she stooped and kissed his cheek. “I missed you last night,” she whispered in his ear.

“I missed you, too.”

Kannice straightened and cast a cold look Diver’s way. “So are you going to tell me where you were?” she asked, turning her gaze back to Ethan. “Or are you going to make me guess?”

“Diver didn’t believe me when I told him. I’m not sure you will either. I spent the night as a guest of the British army at Castle William.”

“You were arrested?” she asked, her voice rising.

Ethan frowned. “I was employed. But thank you for showing such faith in me.”

Diver grinned; Kannice merely scowled.

“You’re working for the Crown?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

Kannice had always shown far more sympathy than Ethan for those who opposed Parliament and His Majesty the King on everything from the Stamp Tax to the Townshend Duties. During the Quartering Act crisis in New York a couple of years before, Kannice had cheered efforts by the colonial assembly to deny troops access to publick houses and other private property. Now, with occupation imminent here in Boston, she feared that she and other tavern owners would be forced to provide housing and food for countless regulars.