By Grace Alone (The Death Dealer Book 2) (10 page)

Nine

Jack stood outside the Emerald, tapping his pipe against the wall and letting the ashes fall into the dirt. It was too hot to be smoking anyway. There hadn’t been a wind blowing through the streets for days.

He heard the sounds of movement in the alley, so rolling his eyes he said, “I hear you, little urchin. Now come out and try to pick my pocket so I can break your fingers.” To his surprise, Nathaniel Moore stepped out of the shadows. “Ah, here’s a surprise. Evenin’ sergeant, and to you as well, captain.” The captain and sergeant came dressed in their uniforms, and both had their batons out in case of trouble. This was no social call to the Emerald.

Captain Ericson had come with Nathaniel as a means of getting information on the Death Dealer. The men stepped into a ring of light from a heightened torch stuck into the ground. Jack tucked his pipe into his belt. His face was concealed in the dark. That was good. He silently searched the darkened corners around the Emerald for reinforcements.

“Master Anders, we were wondering if we could have a word,” Captain Ericson said; taking the lead. “We understand you helped the Death Dealer last year when there was that little ‘scuffle’ amongst the thieves.” He slipped his baton back into his belt and Nathaniel did the same.

Jack shifted and stepped out of the shadows into the light. Nathaniel saw the man was bemused. It made him want to reach over and him for his smugness.

“I remember hearing that while this Death Dealer aided Marcus, another Dealer was spotted in Escion and another in Actis,” Jack replied airily. His smile widened. “Gentlemen, are you chasing ghosts and children’s tales now?”

“This is not the time for jokes and mockery, sir,” Captain Ericson replied, waving a finger at Jack. If he wanted to, he could drag Jack down to the lockup for sass. Nathaniel was sorely tempted, even if Ericson wasn’t.

“I would never think to mock you fine men.” He erased his smile, crossed his arms, and tapped his foot.

“You are aware, I’m sure, of the problems facing the city since Constable Taylor’s untimely death,” Nathaniel cut in.

“I am, and I’m surprised you’ve found anyone to rally behind your cause. A lot of your men take Guild bribes.”

Nathaniel wanted to launch himself at the cocky man before him, but he shoved his fists into his pockets instead. It wouldn’t do any good to call more attention to their conversation. A Guild spy was probably watching from a nearby window already.

Ignoring him, Ericson plowed on, “You were connected to
a
Death Dealer. Whether he was the true hero or not is of no mind. Someone patrols these streets and has allied himself with Marcus’s ilk. I have it on good authority that you, in addition to knowing the Dealer, also do not work with the Thieves’ Guild. We want an audience with the Death Dealer.”

Jack tried to hide his emotions by turning his face back to the shadows, but Nathaniel saw uncertainty cross his features. The man’s shoulders slumped, cockiness forgotten for the moment. He could stand there and joke, but he did know the Death Dealer.

“And if the Dealer doesn’t wish to treat with you?”

“One meeting, Anders. One meeting and we will present our case. Will you arrange it?”

Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try, but I would like to be there as well. I’ve heard a few people there,” he jerked his head toward the door of the Emerald, “say
I
am the Death Dealer. I’d like to halt that nonsense before I’m expected to ride through the countryside fighting bandits and what not.” He held out his hand for Ericson. “I make no promises beyond trying. It’s true that I owe no allegiance to Marcus, but I’m no lackey to you men, either. I am only a friend to your masked hero, and not a very good one since I’ve agreed to intervene on your behalf.”

Ericson shook Jack’s hand, followed by Nathaniel. The sergeant’s hand was callused and firm, and Jack gave it one good shake before withdrawing it. He searched Nathaniel’s face for a moment – looking for what, he didn’t know – before bidding the guards good night.

~*~*~

Grace woke before the sun. All night she dreamed of everlasting darkness, with but one beacon at the end. She walked toward it but never managed to get any closer. She felt old and tired as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Today was her day off from the Angel. The week’s end was a time for prayer, contemplation, and other things the temples said were needed to please the gods. Grace had one decent dress left from her days in House Arganis; green linen with gold velvet trim along the hem. She loved that dress.

Since coming to Glenbard, she hadn’t eaten as well as she did in the north. She never went hungry, but some days were leaner than others if the Angel’s business was slow. As a result, her beautiful dress didn’t fit the same as when it was first made. Nowadays there was extra fabric bunched around the chest and waist. She knew it didn’t look as lovely as it did in the house of her uncle, but she still loved the feel of the dress.

She hadn’t worn the dress since the midwinter’s festival to honor the moon goddess, Kamaria. It was a garment for special occasions, not weekly meditation in the temple district. However, after her dark dreams she wanted a reminder of her home. She dressed and slipped out of the secret door so as not to wake Mistress Fisher.

The temple district had three temples: the domed golden temple for Ciro, the steepled temple to Kamaria with the silver bell in the tower, and the plain and homely temple to the patron goddess of Glenbard, Diggery. Before moving to Glenbard Grace had known Diggery, guardian of lost souls, only as a minor deity to Ciro and Kamaria. Her presence was always known, but in Arganis she was not as important or remembered in daily prayers. Here, Diggery vastly outshone her divine counterparts.

Feeling she’d lost her way, Grace had come to the temple when she first arrived in Glenbard. The year before, as she fought the thief Mac to save Marcus and Ridley, it was a vision of the goddess in wolf form that had helped her. Ever since that time, Grace had taken Diggery as her patron goddess, and on her free day she always went to hear services by the head priestess at Diggery’s temple.

It was still early when she arrived. The temples never locked their doors, but it was hard to find anyone but a priest or priestess about the district so early. Grace entered the temple. It was almost completely dark, except for the candles that had been set around a statue of a great black wolf. The goddess was never depicted in human form, but rather as the wolf; the pathfinder.

A tall woman with thick black hair and bronzed skin was running her fingers over the statue, admiring the wreath of poppies someone had settled around its neck. “Kit?” Grace asked incredulously. The woman turned at Grace’s voice and smiled.

Grace rushed forward to embrace her. Throughout her life, Kit had been everywhere. To far southern lands where the inhabitants were as dark as night and it was ever summer, to lands where mountains loomed over everything and their peaks were always crowned with snow. She moved around with merchants and pilgrims and always had a tale or two when she adventured to Glenbard. As of late, she chiefly stayed between Nareroc and Cesernan.

She smiled at Grace, showing all her teeth. Two deep purple eyes, the color of a deepening twilight, shone from her face and caught every movement, even in the bad light of the temple. Despite her young face, Kit’s eyes held depths Grace had only seen in the oldest and wisest.

“I thought I might have the temple to myself, but I am glad to see a friend,” Grace said.

“I was thinking the same thing. Shall we have a seat outside? I don’t want to disturb the priestesses’ work.”

Kit led them outside and took a seat on the steps that led to the main entrance. Grace sat beside her. As the sun began its triumphant ascent into the sky, the darkness turned into a pinkish gray.

“When did you arrive?” Grace asked, straightening her dress around her feet.

“Yesterday evening on the last trade ship into port. I have no plans to stay long, though. I’m joining a merchant caravan that’s bound for Escion.”

That was the problem with Kit’s visits. They lasted a day, maybe two if the wanderer was feeling grounded or weather was unfavorable. Still, it was nice to have her around, if even for an hour. She had been a friend to Grace from her first days in Glenbard. Admittedly she was everyone’s friend, as no one had an unkind word to say about her.

“And how are you these days?” Kit asked. Grace frowned at the question.

Kit was present when Grace found the good-bye letter from Jack. The two women had been dueling with wooden swords and had just finished enjoying a fine meal and good wine. Afterwards, Grace brought Kit to her lodgings to show her some of the things her friend Donald had brought her from Nareroc. There, slipped under the door, was the letter from Jack. All it said was that he was leaving and he was sorry. Kit held Grace while she broke down and crumpled to the floor in a sorry heap. It was a long time before Grace could even look the young woman in the eyes. She felt her behavior was disgraceful.

Kit quickly shifted the subject. “That’s a fine dress you have on!” she exclaimed, lifting up the hem to feel the trim. “Didn’t you wear this during the midwinter’s festival?”

“I did indeed. I decided to wear it today; it’s the last nice thing I own.”

Around them the sun cast rays along the roofs of the temples. The sunlight drove away the loneliness and darkness of Grace’s night. It wouldn’t be long before the temple doors were opened wide and citizens came to hear services. Already a few folk milled about, heading for Ciro’s temple. They would soon lose their seat on the steps. Grace knew she needed to offer up a prayer to Diggery. She hadn’t been to the temple in some time, and she felt guilty.

“I must pay homage to Diggery, but would you like to have breakfast with me?”

The great, toothy smile of Kit’s reappeared. “Of course!”

~*~*~

Kit bought some meat pies filled with onions, sausages, and tangy gravy while Grace supplied several apples with a bit of goat cheese. They went to the pier to sit and enjoy their meal while a pleasant breeze blew in off the water. It was the first breath of fresh air Grace had felt in days, and she breathed in deeply. The dock area was mostly deserted, as few people did business on the rest days. A few market stalls, the taverns of course, but no sailor or dockworker would lift a finger. It was the best time to visit the area.

The docks had a few trade ships anchored in the slips, quiet for the moment, while out on the water Grace saw a few more. Some weren’t allowed any closer due to some ambiguous political reason; something about kings who thought they needed to hate one another. Grace knew that one of the ships farther out was the
Fearless Dawn
, and she ground her teeth at the thought.

Kit looked out over the water, chewing her food thoughtfully, and shielded her eyes against the rising sun.

“I’ve been hearing some ugly rumors since I landed. Was a guard really murdered?”

“It was an unfortunate act committed by a man with a red hot temper and his hapless brother.”

Kit sighed. “I hoped I was mishearing things. I do hate to be in Glenbard when there’s strife.” And yet she always seemed to land just at the wrong time. “Is that why Marcus went into hiding? Or is he still visiting his ‘sick mother’?” Kit asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Know about that too, huh?”

“I heard he was visiting his mother, but I know she’s been dead for some time. So is this guard business really what sent him into hiding?”

“As far as I know.” What other reason would he have? “A guard has been sniffing around, looking for retribution. He’s not a bad sort, very kind, but eventually he’s going to get hurt, or else he may hurt someone. Then we’ll have the same problem we face now with Constable Taylor’s death. Nathaniel is really just a man trying to do what’s right, but I fear no one else sees it that way.”

Kit raised an eyebrow and Grace blushed. “Nathaniel? You know this particular guard very well?”

“I’ve shared a meal or two with him,” she said quickly. Kit smiled and popped a slice of apple into her mouth. Grace decided she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “What’s going on in Escion that makes you want to join a caravan to get there?”

Kit shrugged. “Adventure,” she said, and then elaborated no further on the topic.

~*~*~

Jack sat outside his lodging house, sweat sticking to his clothes. He frowned when he saw a shadow pass over him.

He didn’t bother to look up at his visitor. “It’s too hot in there,” he mumbled.

Kit sat next to him in the dirt. “I’ve just seen Grace.”

Jack kept his eyes forward. “She was supposed to meet me last night.”

“And she didn’t? That doesn’t sound very much like her.” Kit removed a dagger from her belt and set to work scraping hardened mud from her boots.

“She seemed ready to forgive me when I saw her yesterday.”

“You hurt her a great deal when you left the way you did. You can’t honestly imagine you’ll be forgiven so easily?”

“No, of course not.” No one was going to forgive Jack anytime soon. Thom showed him the hammer he’d use to break Jack’s fingers if he hurt Grace again. Jim had very nearly sliced him open. Ridley paid him a visit to kick him in the shins without uttering a single word. He’d spent years in Glenbard, yet Grace was there for
one year
and everyone was ready to stand on her side. “She say anything about that guard?”