The Death Dealer - The Complete Series Page 11

  Grace took a fighting stance, raised her sword, and they circled each other. Grace felt she had an advantage with her sword, but she was very wrong. The man was incredibly fast for someone so big. He jumped at Grace and grabbed her wrist with his free hand, pulled her close, and took one stab at her.

  Although she twisted away from him, she wasn’t quick enough to completely miss his knife. Blood dripped freely from her side. Using every bit of strength left in her, she cracked the man upside the head with her sword hilt and staggered away as he lay motionless by the fire.

  The world spun around her as the dead man with the broken nose swirled around her mind. The memory of the sound of his nose cracking against her skull rang in her ears. Then she looked at the poor girl, dead and bleeding in the dirt. Grace no longer wanted to witness death. She vomited next to the fire; her throat burning as the bile surged upward.

  ~*~*~

  Grace climbed into Donald’s window and collapsed next to him on his bed. He quickly rose and lit a few candles, and then he saw Grace on her back, bleeding all over his covers.

  “I need to get you some help.” Grace still had The Death Dealer hood on. Her eyes drooped and she moaned slightly.

  “No,” she gasped. “No, there is no one! We cannot let Jim or Ridley or even Marcus know about this.”

  Cassandra always had a plan in case Grace was hurt; always had a lie at the ready to tell the healers. Donald had no such plan or lie. He panicked, and as he left the room he said, “I’m going to get someone!”

  It was late, and of the few people who still loitered in the common room, they were either the drunks or the ladies trying to get money from them. Donald knew he couldn’t tell Jim. Jim Little was a nice fellow, but he told everyone everything he knew. If he brought Jim to see Grace now he would know her secret, and by the time the sun rose, so would everyone else in Glenbard. Then both Donald and Grace’s safety would be compromised.

  Donald entered the common room and saw Jim, as well as a few people he didn’t know. All were filled with ale. Then he spotted Jack in the corner. He knew Grace hated Jack, but there was no time to find someone else. Jack had never told anyone about Grace, so he had to be good at keeping secrets. Plus, he was strong and would be able to help move Grace. Donald hurried over, out of breath as he stood before Jack’s table.

  “A little late for knight talk, don’t you think?”

  “Jack, I need your help.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “This is urgent. Please?”

  “Then have Jim help you.”

  “I can’t. Please – there’s no time to get Marcus or Ridley. Just help me, I beg you.”

  He had no real desire to help the young man, but Jack met Donald’s eyes and looked at the fear within. He wasn’t entirely sure what could be wrong so late, but he gave in.

  “Make this quick, boy.”

  ~*~*~

  Jack opened Donald’s door and saw a figure, clad in black with an executioner’s hood on, lying on the bed. The Death Dealer was wounded and, more importantly, was passed out on Donald’s bed. Jack could barely believe his eyes.

  Jack walked over to the bed and sat beside the figure. He gently removed the hood and blonde locks fell out over the pillow. “Grace?” The girl moaned, but had already left the conscious world from blood loss.

  Jack removed her jerkin and lifted the black shirt where the wound was. It wasn’t deep and didn’t hit any organs, but it still had the potential to be fatal, especially if they didn’t find a healer. Jack wasn’t going to let that happen. Despite his own feelings toward the girl, he knew it was wrong to just let her die.

  He hoped Grace had extra covering on underneath as he ripped the shirt off her. He was relieved to see the girl had bound her chest. He looked closely at the laceration. The best thing to do would be to move Grace to a healing house, and fast.

  “Where was she?”

  “She sneaks out of the city. She told me once she doesn’t go further than a mile or so.”

  “She walked a mile?” He continued to inspect the wound. “It’s not deep, but it’s long. The wound itself isn’t fatal, but if she traveled the distance you claim, she’s been bleeding for a while now.”

  Taking the ripped shirt, he tied it around the wound to slow the bleeding. Donald remained in the corner, panicking, and was useless to Grace now. Jack removed his jacket, put it on Grace, and then lifted her gently from the bed and carried her to the door.

  “Make yourself useful and open the doors for us.”

  Donald did as he was told and opened the door so Jack could get out. He followed Jack and opened any other doors that presented a problem.

  ~*~*~

  Jack brought Grace to the temple of Kamaria. The only indication they were in the house of the goddess was the silver crescent moon that hung above the door. When Grace awakened, she saw that she was in the back room where the priestesses prepared for the ceremonies to the moon goddess. Jack watched her with interest from the corner. As Grace sat up, she winced and gritted her teeth.

  Jack could tell she was confused and didn’t blame her. She had woken up in a strange room with strange clothes on. Taking a deep breath, she winced again.

  “The wound was not fatal. Though it could have been if Donald had listened to you. The priestesses had to stitch you up.”

  Grace’s eyes met Jack’s hazel ones. He leaned on the back wall and watched her carefully. “You? You’re the help Donald found?”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “I suppose I should thank you, then.”

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know you’re still angry with me.”

  “But you probably just saved my life.” She suddenly blushed and quickly pulled the jacket closed around her body; noticing that her shirt had been cut away.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “The healers cut your bindings, so your modesty is still intact. I didn’t see anything. And you don’t need to repay me or thank me. I just did what most would have done.”

  Grace's face contorted and her eyes widened as though she just remembered something important. What could he have said to explain the gash?

  Jack took a guess at her thoughts and smiled at her for the first time. “The healers here have taken a vow of silence and speak only when the moon is at her fullest. But they seemed to care little for what you did. They cared more for the safety of a fellow human. So your little secret is safe.”

  “And you? Can I trust you?”

  “Does anyone here know you were once a noble?”

  “No.”

  “Then your secret is safe with me.”

  Grace swung her legs over the bedside and suddenly felt lightheaded.

  Jack went to her side and forced her back onto the bed. “It is best to stay here and rest. You lost too much blood.” He wrapped the blankets of the bed around her shoulders.

  “Mayhew will be furious with me if I am not in the stables by sunup.” She attempted to cast off the offered blankets.

  “It’s well past noon, now. Donald took over for you, saying you were too ill to work. As far as anyone is concerned, last night Donald and I rushed you to see a healer about a fever and you’re recovering here.”

  “Well I’m up now; can I go back to my room?”

  Jack sighed. Arguing with Grace was going to be a losing battle. She was quite a willful young woman. “You can’t walk all the way back there. You simply will not have the strength or energy.” Grace huffed and crossed her arms over her chest; rolling her eyes in annoyance.

  Jack let a little chuckle out. He had never met someone so stubborn when it came to accepting help after an injury. Not even the most arrogant of knights were this bad. Donald filled him in on the other times Grace had hurt herself and tried to simply walk it off. “If you’re just going to get out of that bed when my back is turned, at least let me help you. I can bring Pilgrim here and you can ride him while I walk back to the Angel. But only if you promise to go straight to bed when we get back.”

 
“I suppose I can do that.”

  Jack nodded and headed for the door.

  “Jack?” He turned and caught a smile from Grace. “Thank you.”

  “Just don’t tell anyone about me being so nice to you. If anyone asks, say I forced you to come back to the tavern and I was absolutely beastly.” Grace looked dumbfounded. “They’ll think I’ll do favors for them, and I simply cannot let that happen.”

  Grace laughed and shook her head. “No, I don’t suppose you can.”

  ~*~*~

  Grace was propped up on her pillows, watching Donald pace her little room. He was working in the stables when Jack brought her back to the Angel. Though Donald wanted to leave to help her, Mayhew was insistent he do the job Grace was hired to do.

  Donald had been awarded his midday meal, but stood pacing in her room instead. “I know you hate Jack, but there was no other choice.” Her friend seemed to think she would be furious that Jack’s help had been enlisted.

  “Why are you fretting so much? I can’t be upset with you for saving my life. I’m just surprised he even helped.”

  Donald stopped his pacing to take a seat at the foot of her bed. “He stayed with me at the temple until dawn, and when I left to make your excuses to Mayhew, he said he would wait so a familiar face would be there when you woke up. All morning I’ve tried to get information out of Mayhew about Jack, but he wouldn’t say anything.”

  Grace had to admit she was surprised to wake up and find Jack waiting for her. However, he hadn’t been coarse with her; rather he was gentle, in his own sarcastic way. He even helped her into bed and saw to it that she had everything she needed. Then without a word, he left.

  “Since Jack knows everything now, I was thinking…” Donald paused before continuing, “Maybe I will take a job on one of the merchant ships. I nearly lost my head last night and could do nothing but panic. Jack was sensible and was able to think clearly enough to take you to healers under a vow of silence. If he agrees, I will try to find work on a merchant ship. I’ve asked around; the pay isn’t great, but you mostly live on the ship so room and board is taken care of.”

  “This is wonderful news.” Grace held her arms open so Donald could hug her. His embrace hurt her wounds, but she refused to let him know. If he thought he hurt her, he’d be morose the rest of the day. His choice was good news. She couldn’t let Donald just sit around doing odd jobs just to keep her safe.

  ~*~*~

  Ridley brought Grace her dinner that night. “Jack, of all people, to take you to the healers. You poor thing! You look so tired. That fever came on so quickly.”

  “I felt rather ill all day.” Grace hated lying to anyone, especially this trusting young woman, but it couldn’t be helped. All day she thought about Jack and what Donald said about him waiting at the temple for her to wake up. Donald wasn’t able to get any information from Mayhew, but she figured tapping into Ridley’s gossip-filled brain would be worth a shot. “And Jack, well, I can’t thank him enough. If not for him, the fever might have claimed me.”

  “It is very unlike him.” Ridley broke apart a piece of bread.

  “Why? What can you tell me about Jack?”

  Ridley chewed her food, swallowed and shrugged. “He lives in a rundown little room by the Emerald Rose. When he arrived in Glenbard almost eight years ago, he was angry, fearless, and most often drunk. That’s why they say he became a rusher at the Rose. He had some sort of death wish. He made a name for himself cracking skulls, breaking elbows, and making problems disappear. After a month as a rusher, Marcus took notice. He thought Jack was a rogue from outside Cesernan. He sent spies out from here to Eurur and as far as Archon, trying to gain knowledge. No one had ever heard the name Anders.

  “He no longer works as a rusher, but he has gold from somewhere. No one knows where his money comes from. According to his landlady, she reduces payments because he keeps ruffians out. That’s all anyone really knows. He’s always kept to himself, living in the present rather than talking about the past. After a few years, everyone gave up guessing his origins. He wasn’t here to take the King of Thieves’ crown, so they left him alone.”

  “So he just appeared one day?”

  Ridley nodded. “It’s best to let Jack be. He’ll talk when he wants.” She grinned mischievously. “I suppose if I ask about your interest in Jack, you’ll claim it’s only because he helped you last night.” She winked and Grace blushed.

  Jack was surly and standoffish, yet he helped get her to a healer. Not only that, but he also kept her secrets. He was a confusing man, and she intended to crack his shell so she could understand him.

  Eight

  Grace stayed in her room for the next week based on the orders of Donald. Every night Ridley and Marcus came up to her room with dinner and chatted for a bit, and then they would leave so she could rest. Donald had already set out for his first job in the islands, since the captain said he was willing to take on any man foolish enough to want it so badly.

  With a hug and a lecture, Donald left. He figured if Jack could be trusted, then Grace was in more capable hands than his own. Grace missed him, but knew he’d be back before she even knew he was gone.

  Jack was scarce after he returned Grace to the Angel from the temple. It was not until the night Grace planned to rejoin everyone in the common room that Jack finally paid her a visit.

  The two had come to a quiet understanding the day after Grace was stabbed, and the walk back to the tavern was pleasant for both. Their friendship had limits, and both were willing to respect them if the other did as well. So when Jack broke their unspoken agreement and came to see her at her room over the stables, Grace was quite surprised.

  She was fixing her hair when Jack knocked and peered in. “Hello Jack, please come in.”

  Jack slipped in and closed the door. “The tournament is over, and the merchants from Glenbard who went to see it and sell their goods have returned. They brought back not only profits, but stories as well. The big story this year is about a woman who stepped into the sword ring and was subsequently exiled from the court. Of course, this little bit of news has been floating around for weeks. A witch of terrible girth disguised herself to belittle the Prince. A red-eyed harpy planned to murder the royal family. But now, more concrete information has been provided. A member of Arganis’s noble family; a small, blonde-haired young woman is the one who took up the sword.”

  “So? Who really cares?” Grace turned back to her mirror and tried to fix her braids.

  Jack firmly took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Everyone cares, Grace. Jim, Ridley, and even Marcus could still care for you, but not everyone will be so happy to have a former noble walking around Glenbard in the common room of their favorite inn. They complain that King Frederick and his cronies sit at banquet while they starve. More than one of noble birth has been assaulted in dark places, and let’s not forget how the King taxes his people. These may be exaggerated rumors from the dissatisfied masses, but they believe all this to be fact. They hate people like you, Grace.”

  Grace saw a flicker of concern in Jack’s eyes as he spoke. “I wouldn’t go in that common room tonight. Tell Ridley privately and see how she reacts, but there could be trouble if you dare enter that room tonight and are recognized. And you will be recognized. I’m not going to be around to help you.”

  “You don’t think I can handle myself, do you? You, of all people, should know I can take care of myself.”

  “Take care of yourself? Look at you! You’re an ex-noble who likes to play hero. You’ll get yourself killed if you go into that common room tonight!” Jack released Grace and shook his head. He could tell by the way she looked at him that she was going down there tonight anyway. He tried; that was all that mattered. “Have it your way.”

  He stomped across the room and made sure to slam the door as he left. Grace sat and stewed in her anger for a few minutes before deciding it was time to head down for supper in the tavern. Jack was wrong; no one woul
d really care. She wasn’t a noble anymore. Now she mucked out stables for a living.

  ~*~*~

  Grace headed into the common room and no one seemed to notice her until Ridley declared her entrance. “Everyone! Grace is on the mend and she’s come to join us!” Those who knew Grace cheered, but a few men kept their eyes downward and spoke amongst each other.

  Finally, one stood up as a group of tavern regulars went to see Grace. “You cheer this woman? This child who once lived in luxuries that we’ll never know? You are a tramp, Lady Grace Hilren of Arganis!” He spat out her former title.

  “What are you talking about, Van?” Marcus asked from his seat of power by the fireplace. “Grace here mucks out the stables for Mayhew.”

  “Does she, indeed?” the man named Van asked; crossing the tavern floor to look more closely at Grace. “This girl was the former noblewoman we were talking about. It’s people like her that keep us down! And now she steals a job from someone who actually needs it.”

  Those who came to wish Grace well backed away from her in fear and suspicion or disgust and anger. She looked around to see many angry eyes fall on her; eyes that were happy she was well only moments before. This was the second time in recent memory that a crowd had suddenly turned so viciously on her. The masses were a fickle beast.

  “Is it true, Grace?” Ridley’s voice came from next to her. She turned and the Princess of Thieves was only two feet away.

  Grace hung her head. “Yes, it is true.”

  “She’s not one of ours! Throw her out!” someone yelled.

  “Slit her throat and send her head back to the court! Show them what we do to those who belong there!” another voice cried out.

  Grace caught the glint of steel from the corner of her eye and turned to Ridley. The girl produced a dagger and held it out. For a moment she thought Ridley had turned on her as well.

  “How dare you! You call yourselves men! You would dare to cast out and hurt someone who has become one of ours? Grace Hilren may have been born a noble, but she works like a commoner. She works like one of us! And if any one of you dares to touch her, I’ll slice your hands off!”