The Death Dealer - The Complete Series Page 30

  “Yes sir.”

  Ten

  It was just as Jack said. The temple was ill-lit and Jack sat in a pew before the statue of Diggery while Nathaniel and Captain Ericson sat across the aisle. They tried not to shift anxiously in their seats. Outside, four guards from the Golden Road house waited in case there was trouble. The captain need only blow his whistle and they’d rush in.

  Grace saw all this from her position in the back of the temple. Thom crouched across the aisle, fighting to stay awake. They’d arrived an hour before the guards, and Jack saw to it that the candles were lit so that from the shadows she couldn’t be seen. Hunkered down between two pews, Grace’s legs were beginning to cramp. Nathaniel and Ericson had been waiting nearly twenty minutes for her. She’d kept them waiting to see if they said anything of importance to Jack or tried to bribe him for information. Nothing. No one said anything. Grace readjusted her sword and slowly stood.

  Her knees cracked audibly, but no one at the front of the temple noticed.

  “Gentlemen,” she said. She didn’t like to talk as the Death Dealer, but when she did she lowered her voice as best as she could and kept all communications to a whisper.

  This time the guards both stood and stared at her, and she kept her hand on the hilt of her short sword as she walked to meet them. When she was just out of arm’s reach, she stopped. From this distance she could still run if she had to. Jack rose to stand just behind the guards.

  “I understand you wanted to speak with me,” she continued, when no one else made a move to talk. “I can’t imagine it was for the pleasure of my company.”

  Ericson’s scowl looked worse in the candlelight. He looked more menacing with the flickering of the candles only illuminating part of his face. His eyes were dark cavities, but his mouth was a clear frown. The Death Dealer had sided with the thieves upon entering the city, so it only made sense that the captain was in no mood for quips from the tiny hooded figure.

  “You’ve been an ally to Marcus for some time, and I know you’ve been helping him look for Harris Atkins,” Ericson said.

  Do you now? Grace thought. “There have been worse men than Marcus ruling the Lane.”

  “That’s true enough, but why should any but the Guard, the keepers of the King’s law, patrol the city? What right does a Laner and a thief have to call himself King? Out of fear or because of bribes the Guard has always looked the other way, provided Guild men didn’t get too uppity, but this should not be. When a guard – any man, really – is killed, justice should be done; not this interference from men like Marcus. He has no right.”

  “Your fellow captains don’t seem to follow this line of thinking,” Grace said.

  “I’m going to change that with the help of honorable men like Sergeant Moore.”

  Grace regarded Ericson in silence while Jack and Nathaniel shifted behind the captain. She’d heard of this Merchant’s Way captain once or twice. He was from a long line of guards, and even had an uncle in the magistrates’ council. He had money through his uncle, so he wouldn’t have to rely on bribes like some of the guards did. Even the captains of Seafarer’s Way and Rogue’s Lane weren’t so well off they could do without extra coin in their purses. A man like that could afford to have ideals. For that Grace could respect him, but why had he waited so long to take action?

  “Why is Sergeant Moore causing such a stir?”

  Ericson moved to put an arm around Grace, but she stepped back further out of his reach. “The Guard is full of politics. When a guard dies on Rogue’s Lane, outside my jurisdiction, it’s up to the captain and his officers to make a move in their district. Sergeant Moore is an officer there. It is his right to move against the Guild first and then call for aid.”

  Coward, Grace thought. You won’t move until you know you can garner support. Nathaniel risked life and limb without knowing anyone would stand behind him. You sat for years, when at any time you could have gone to the magistrates and asked to exercise your power on Rogue’s Lane. They would gladly be rid of Marcus and his ilk. You were able to secure men from outside your guardhouse to watch the temple tonight, so don’t lie to me about not being able to move outside your district.

  She growled inside her hood and the fabric vibrated against her face, making it itch. She kept her hands down, refusing to scratch it.

  “Does that upset you, Death Dealer?”

  Grace cut her eyes to Jack, who gave a slight shake of his head. She’d like to tell Ericson he was wrong to sit on his hands as long as he had, but it was far too dangerous. Ericson had the men of Golden Road outside to answer any summons of help, and Thom sat in the back with his own backup close at hand. Any inflammatory remark she made would upset both men and bring too much backlash on her.

  She settled on, “You have yet to tell me what you want.”

  “Help,” Nathaniel said, and stepped forward. “You are mired in the Guild, but it does not have to be so. You could be a great asset to us. Your friend, Grace, said you believe in the code of chivalry and true King’s justice. This is the time to show everyone that you are the voice for law and order, not thieves and murderers.”

  “Things are not so simple, sergeant,” she said, wishing they were.

  “We can offer you gold for your time. Should something happen, we can provide for your friend.” Ericson jerked a thumb in Jack’s direction. “When the Guild gets theirs, do you think it’ll be safe for someone like you?”

  Ericson moved and Grace saw his eyes clearly for a moment. They were cold and calculating. This wasn’t about Harris; he was just the easiest target now. Like Sergeant Moore, who could easily have died without serious loss, the Death Dealer was a weapon that if lost, would not set Ericson back. He figured, ‘Let Nathaniel stir up trouble and rally the men, and let the Death Dealer hunt. All the while, I’ll stay safe on Merchant’s Way. If it turns, they are gone, but I am safe.’

  “And what of the thieves? Not all are murderers like Harris Atkins. Many are just men feeding their families by nicking a purse or two. Marcus sees that there are clothes on Lane orphans and food in their bellies. Will you see to that when he’s gone?”

  “I will see them locked in a dungeon, and the dregs safe from their violent ways. My father and the other guards who have been killed will have their vengeance.”

  Grace didn’t know how often thieves were caught on Merchant’s Way. It wasn’t something Marcus shared, but she’d warrant a guess that Ericson would turn a blind eye to anything the guards wanted to try.

  “I’m afraid I am not Glenbard bred. The constable’s death was a terrible thing, but this is a city issue. I am not aiding Marcus in his hunt and I won’t aid you either. You may fight each other to the death; see who catches the man first.” She wouldn’t help anyone capture and kill one foolish man. This meeting just reaffirmed it.

  “Knave! You would help Marcus keep his ‘throne’, but when the honest people of this city ask for help, you abandon them?!” Ericson clenched up his fists. It was hard to tell in the shadows, but Grace guessed his face was beet red.

  “Captain, you may be as mad as you wish. I don’t disagree. Harris deserves just punishment, but he shouldn’t be a pawn in the war you wish to start.”

  Grace turned on her heel. She only needed to make it outside before Ericson. Her footsteps were quick and even. Just make it outside and run like hell.

  Behind her, Ericson and Nathaniel fell into step, moving quickly for the exit as well. The captain meant to see her locked up, or worse. Grace reached the doors first.

  From her vantage point she saw four guards patrolling, one of them five feet to her left. Picking up her pace, she sprinted away from the door before Ericson was able to barrel his way out.

  “Stop him!” Ericson screamed and blew his whistle.

  Grace dodged the guard at the door. Another swung out of the shadows and rammed his body into Grace’s side. Both went down in a heap. The guard sat on Grace’s legs, his weight making it impossible for her to get up.
He tried to secure her hands in a leather band, but she wildly flapped her arms.

  The rest of Ericson’s company was descending fast when a dark figure moved out from the alley behind Kamaria’s temple. In an instant, the guard’s weight lifted from Grace’s legs. The figure held out a hand and yanked her to her feet.

  Despite the heat, the figure was hooded and cloaked. Grace couldn’t see a face, but the hand that clutched her forearm had a ring of two snakes eating each other. Marcus. She nodded to him before turning to run. Marcus ran opposite of her, forcing Ericson to split his forces.

  “You two – after the Death Dealer! Sergeant Moore, lead them! You two, follow me!” she heard Ericson scream to his flunkies.

  Forcing her legs to move faster, Grace continued her sprint and made a sharp turn into an alley. On one side was a relic shop and on the other, a notary. Unfortunately neither building had footholds for her to use. Climbing up was not possible, but slithering down was.

  Grace knew this alley, as it was marked on her map as an entrance to the sewers. The sewers weren’t located throughout the city, only in areas like Golden Road, where the odor of filth might offend sensitive noses. Certain buildings were built with separate entrances for city workers.

  Grace felt along the wall of the shop until her fingers found the latch, and then she pulled the wood door up and crawled inside. If she continued to crawl, she’d eventually be out of the crawlspace and could stand up and run to the sea. That wouldn’t be necessary today, though. She only had to sit in a dark, smelly hole for a little while; at least until she was sure Ericson and his men had given up.

  Staying on her hands and knees, Grace focused on breathing through her mouth. Where she knelt was only the entrance, the real mess being further down, but she could smell it as clearly as if she waded through it. The scent of rotten cabbages, human waste, and all manner of garbage from the street above wafted through the stuffy air. It was important to focus on the positive side of her situation. At least she wasn’t kneeling in anything wet.

  Right above, she heard men talking. “He’s not here, Sergeant,” followed by a muffled response from up the alley.

  Grace drew in a deep breath and waited for the men to leave.

  “Constable,” – that was Nathaniel – “it’s important we bring the Death Dealer in.”

  “Why? He didn’t kill Taylor, and if you bring in one Death Dealer, five more pop up in his place. The lad I tackled was small, probably just a pretender.”

  “Pretender or no, it’s important Marcus and his Guild see that we have their Death Dealer in our custody. That shows we have the power to take away their game piece.”

  “As you say, Sergeant. Let’s move on. No one’s here.”

  Grace counted until she lost track, and then she used her foot to kick open the door and backed out. Thom and Jack were quietly waiting at the end of the alley when she straightened and turned.

  “I told you she’d make for a sewer entrance,” Thom said. “She’s too clever not to.”

  The smell of the sewer was imbedded in Grace’s nose. She flung her dirty sleeve under Jack’s nose and then Thom’s. Both men took a step back.

  “I’ll give it to Ginger. She can get any smell out.” It wasn’t exactly heartening news, but Grace would take it. Thom stripped off his shirt and handed it to her.

  Taking the cue, Jack turned his back when Grace took the shirt. Thom nodded and turned as well. Grace peeled away her shirt and let it fall onto the dirt. What difference did it make? It was already filthy from only a short amount of time in the sewer entrance.

  “Someone give me a belt.” The shirt Thom provided was too long, but it was a blessing because now she could hand off her trousers as well.

  Jack grumbled and fidgeted before tossing his belt over his shoulder. Grace secured the belt around her waist, kicked off her boots, removed her trousers, and slid the boots back on. Finally, she pulled her hood off and shoved it down her shirt. She looked down and was content that she was decent enough. The shirt fell to her knees and the belt made it look like a shortened dress. Not the most modest clothing, but it would do the trick until she returned to Marcus’s home.

  “You can turn back around now,” she said. She bent down and scooped up her discarded clothes.

  A shirtless Thom and a scowling Jack both turned to face her. She couldn’t read their expressions, but she imagined Thom was amused and Jack was annoyed.

  “Marcus was there,” she said as she started for the opening of the alley. “But I suppose you already knew that, Thom.”

  “I did.” He brought himself up next to her and Jack followed two steps behind. “Are you surprised?”

  “No. Are you satisfied?” She hadn’t turned anyone over, and she let the Guard know she wasn’t looking for Harris.

  “I’m satisfied. Why don’t you see about washing the stink off you and then go home? I’ve business to attend to.” Thom clapped Grace on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze before leaving her behind.

  “He’ll report the whole meeting, you know,” Jack said. He closed the space between them. “And Captain Ericson knows it was Marcus who helped you up.”

  “I know.”

  “What will you do next?”

  “Go back to Marcus’s, wash my hair, and sleep. Then rely on your help, I suppose.”

  “My ears and eyes are ever at your service, my lady.” Jack put an arm around Grace and steered her off toward Rogue’s Lane.

  ~*~*~

  “You’re sure she meant what she said? She wasn’t just putting on a show for your benefit?”

  Marcus situated himself on top of a headstone; perched like a crow waiting to feast. Thom grimaced at the sight and silently prayed to Ciro to forgive the hubris of his friend. He prayed to Kamaria that the grave’s owner didn’t come back to haunt them.

  “No, I don’t think she much cared for Ericson. Maybe if Sergeant Moore had approached her alone… Their ideals match up, but not Ericson’s. As long as he’s involved, I think she means to stay neutral.”

  Marcus jumped down from the grave. “Good. Keep an eye on her. Like I said, she’s not done hunting for Harris. I’m going to watch Ericson tomorrow and make sure he stays out of trouble. Watch Grace and wait for my signal.”

  Eleven

  Grace awoke to a quiet house and saw Ridley sleeping like the dead across the room. The room was stuffy but peaceful, however the day before quickly rushed back to her. She remembered Jack saying he couldn’t protect her from her own crushing guilt…then her flight from the Guard. How could someone who professed to aid the righteous run from the embodiment of the law? Grace already felt guilty and the day had barely begun.

  She remembered, back before Jack left, when she would wake up some days unable to drag herself from bed. Her mind would swirl with the faces of the men who had died because of her. There were always tears, sometimes tantrums, and once she went without eating for three days. Jack was always on hand; cradling her, tucking her into bed, and letting her cry it out. She had let him in to her innermost thoughts and shared everything she had to offer, and foolishly thought he did the same. Then he was gone. Looking back on how she acted, how she still acted, it was a surprise he had stayed as long as he did.

  Grace curled up on her side and waited for the feelings to pass. By the time she felt better, Ridley was starting to wake. Her friend stretched and Grace heard her back snap and crack. Elsewhere in the house Thom, or possibly Ginger, was already moving about.

  Ridley rolled over in her bed and faced Grace with a sleepy smile. Grace was about to say something when the Princess of Thieves began to snore softly. Apparently it wasn’t quite time to wake.

  Grace changed out of her sleep shirt and back into the dress she’d worn the day before. Padding downstairs, she found Ginger alone in the kitchen. As Grace walked by, she snatched up a roll from the basket set on the table.

  Ginger swept the floor, making sure the dirt and dust got outside. “No one in this house wakes
up so early. Lazy bones,” she said, and used the broomstick to point upwards. “I can make you something more substantial for breakfast, you know.”

  “A kind offer, but I’d best head off for the Angel.” Grace pressed a coin into Ginger’s hand for her troubles.

  Marcus’s house was close to the Angel. It made sense that he stayed close to his ‘throne room’, and it was a nice change not to have to pass the fish market. Grace’s mood brightened some as she walked. The ghosts of her past were momentarily forgotten and she focused on enjoying the overcast day. The world couldn’t get so hot if the sun wasn’t allowed to appear. Her mood changed entirely when she arrived at the Angel.

  A black painted wagon blocked the entrance to the Angel. One solitary nag was pulling it, though currently the horse chomped through the contents of its feedbag. The beast was old, ill fed, and had a tangled mane and tail. The wagon driver didn’t look much better. The guards could pretend otherwise, but they hadn’t the funds for a better arrest wagon or horse.

  But why was the arrest wagon at the Angel? It never made the trip there. Gathered around the wagon, keeping a respectful distance from the driver’s whip, were Jeremiah and Rosemary. Old Mayhew shouted profanities next to them, shaking his fist and stomping his feet. A guard emerged from the tavern, dragging Jim Little alongside him.

  Grace was rooted to her spot, unsure what to make of the scene. At first she thought they must have found Harris, but what was this? She hurried forward and caught one of Mayhew’s arms.

  “What’s happening? Where are they taking Jim?” she begged; her eyes still not quite believing what she saw.

  “They think he’s hiding Marcus and that Atkins fool!” Mayhew spat at the nag’s hooves, but the poor beast was oblivious to all but the feedbag. “Fools! Ninnies! Motherless dogs!” the old man shouted.

  “They think Jim will give them information he doesn’t have,” Jeremiah continued. “I think they’re just trying to smoke Marcus and Harris out.”

  The murmur Thom had heard over the past weeks had become a roar. Guards had never bothered Jim before. He was a simple man who was paid for allowing his establishment to be used by the Thieves' Guild, but this didn’t mean he was privy to any information. A guard followed closely behind Jim and his escort, and she recognized the follower as Constable Trenton.