By Grace Alone (The Death Dealer Book 2) (20 page)

~*~*~

Jack stood before the magistrate, a doughy man with squinty eyes and a bald spot on top. What hair he did have fell in lanky, unwashed black strands. “You aided a known criminal; a known member of the self-appointed Thieves’ Guild.”

“I wasn’t aware the Death Dealer was a member. An ally perhaps, but not a member,” Jack said. When the magistrate glared, he added quickly, “My lord.”

“You are the muscle down at the Emerald tavern, are you not?”

“Yes, my lord, but I am also
not
a member of the Guild.” The man continued to glare. “Is there a crime against breaking up fights? Or is it a crime to help a sick man watch the sunrise for the last time? Because my lord, I am wholly unaware if it is.”

“The sick man in question was wanted for murdering a city guard. It was a
crime
not to report his whereabouts.”

“I placed the man along the route of patrolling guardsmen, thereby alerting them to his whereabouts.” Jack shifted his stance. “He took his own life with the poison. He was determined not to allow the Guild or the Guard to hurt him, my lord. He was a foolish man who got no better than he deserved. However,” he went on when the magistrate raised an eyebrow, “however, I was out and was asked to help. Have you ever met the Death Dealer, my lord? Performers and poets would have us believe the man stands ten-feet tall and can lift a horse over his head with one arm. But the truth is he’s a man like any other. And the Death Dealer couldn’t drag that poor fool alone. I responded to a plea for help. I guess it's what I get for walking home late at night.”

A silence spread between the two men. Outside, there were guards watching the door. Even closed in the magistrate’s office, Jack could hear the men chatting softly. He was sure they were having the same discussion everyone else was having. Harris was dead, the Guild’s anger was simmering now rather than boiling, and a shaky truce was unspoken in the air. Tension was everywhere. Harris’s death may have slowed things, but it wouldn’t stave off the war. Jack knew it, Marcus knew it…even that stout magistrate damn well knew it. Holding Jack was only to show both sides the Guard was there to preside over the death, not the Guild.

The magistrate rang a bell on his desk and one of the guards outside the door came in and stood at attention next to Jack. “Fetch Sergeant Moore.” The guard bowed and was gone. “Master Anders, you didn’t kill Harris and you weren’t aiding him in his run from the King’s law. You were simply a fool in the wrong place at the wrong time. You are free to go, but know that you are being watched. I’d stay clear of that ill-favored Death Dealer, if I was you.”

Jack knew a dismissal when he heard it. He bowed to the magistrate, happy to be leaving. Outside the door, Sergeant Moore was waiting. The sergeant looked him over carefully. “I’m to escort you home,” he said gruffly.

“What? Like a fair lass on a fine evening? Pardon me, Sergeant, but I can take myself home.”

“I insist. You’ve made no friends with the Guild, Master Anders.”

Jack laughed. “
I’ve
made no friends? Come along, boy, let me walk
you
home.”

Nathaniel sneered, but fell into step next to Jack. The city was hot with not a cloud in the sky. Jack shielded his eyes from the sun once they left the office of the magistrate. He knew without seeing them that Marcus already had men watching. Jack sighed and turned himself toward Grace’s home.

“She’s gone, you know,” Nathaniel said after it became clear in what direction Jack led them. “I walked her to the city gates myself. Poor girl. She said she’d had enough of thieves and Death Dealers. She didn’t say, but I’m sure she’d had enough of the likes of you, too.”

“And what do you know of that?” On a good day, Jack had no patience for meddling fools. After spending the morning locked up and the afternoon in front of a lord, he was ready to let his temper take over.

“That she loved you and you didn’t deserve it.”

Jack stopped to really look at Nathaniel. He’d always looked on the sergeant as a naïve young man with delusions of grandeur; soft and foolish. But looking over at him now, he saw the scar under his eye, marking him as a fighter and a survivor. His eyes were warm but calculating. He carried himself with a stubborn chin held high and squared off shoulders.

Life tried to beat him back and failed. More’s the pity,
Jack thought.

Nathaniel sized Jack up as well. The man who stood beside him was known for brawling, but he held himself with the same noble bearing Grace did. His features were harsh, with worry lines creasing around his eyes and mouth. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, quiet and strong.
He could have made a fine captain of the Guard
, Nathaniel thought,
if he weren’t so sour and cold hearted
.

“And you think she was foolish to give me her love?” Jack asked, resuming his walk. He turned them off course. Nathaniel wouldn’t lie, not like Marcus. If he said Grace was gone, she was gone.

“I think she was foolish to continue giving it when it was clear you were naught but a knave.”

“Why do you care if a barmaid gives her heart to a rogue such as myself? Surely you couldn’t have been in love with her?”

“No, but I liked her and I wanted to know her better. It seems unfair you ruined such a fine young lady.”

Jack frowned. He did do that, didn’t he? Sweet thing. She learned hard lessons from her own foolishness, but that didn’t mean she needed him mucking about with her feelings, too.

“Now she’s gone. She was a sweet, loving girl, who did no harm to anyone,” Nathaniel continued.

Jack came to the doors of the Emerald and produced his pipe from his pocket. He kept a pouch of pipe weed in a leather pouch at his hip, so he quietly stuffed the pipe; letting the pipe hang loosely in his fingers. He’d light it when he went inside.

“Have you had much experience with young ladies, Sergeant?”

Nathaniel looked insulted. “If you think I would—”

“Not in so sordid a manner. I mean, are you aware of the layers of a woman?” Noting the continued look of disgust, Jack rolled his eyes and sighed. “A woman, especially one as tenacious as Grace, has secrets below the surface. A woman who gets into the ring against a knight isn’t likely to be as sweet and harmless as you suppose. Do yourself a favor…put Grace out of your head. Find a girl who really is as sweet as all that.”

Nathaniel scowled. “Master Anders,” he said dismissively; clicking his heels together and stalking off.

Jack went into the Emerald. The place was normally deserted this time of day, and today was no exception with only the tavernkeep and his son around. Jack nodded to them both and lit his pipe. He thought about his conversation with Sergeant Moore. He should listen carefully to his own advice and put Grace Hilren from his mind. Though he hadn’t been able to for months, so why start now?

~*~*~

Ridley built up a fire in the kitchen of Marcus’s house while Marcus and Thom were tearing through Grace’s lodging down at Seafarer's Way, looking for any sign of the Death Dealer. Grace was spotted leaving Glenbard, and Marcus went into a white-hot rage when someone told him. At first he suspected Jack was behind it, but Jack was being held in the lockup and was just as surprised at the news. Something Ridley would fix soon, but first the fire.

She threw the hood into the flames. Grace gave Ridley the rest of her Death Dealer garb, and she’d hidden those away until she could dispose of them as well. For now the black hood burned, smoking dreadfully. It didn’t matter. Marcus could rage all he liked. Grace deserved a chance to get a head start without such damning evidence left behind.

~*~*~

When Marcus flipped the little wooden bed frame over in his rage, Grace’s landlady complained loudly in his ear over the noise and the mess. His goodwill toward fellow citizens had completely faded since Grace’s surprise attack the night before. Thom stood by somberly; letting the King of Thieves rage and destroy everything he could get his hands on.

“Shut your damn mouth, wench!” Marcus bellowed, giving the frame a kick as well.

“Listen here! You may be the sad little king of a sad little kingdom on the Lane, but this is
my
house. I’ll fetch the Guard for all the damage you’ve caused!”

“And I’ll slam your head in the wall!” Marcus made a move to grab her, but Thom put himself between thief and landlady.

Thom exchanged a few hushed words with Mistress Fischer and the flash of gold passed from his fingers to hers. He gently backed her out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Grace’s former room had been ripped apart. What clothes she couldn’t take with her were in tatters all along the floor. The desk was broken and her personal letters were thrown about the room. Thom had never seen his friend in such a rage. Even now, Marcus’s face was deep red and his chest heaved with anger. Sweat drenched his shirt.

“Come along, Marcus. She’s not coming back.”

“Oathbreaker,” Marcus whispered under his breath. “She’ll be punished in this life or the next for that.”

Aloud Thom agreed, but inwardly he didn’t. He liked Grace and knew she always strove to be virtuous. He helped her because he knew that Marcus would regret harming her once he eventually came to his senses. Marcus had never harmed a woman – never even slapped one – and he wasn’t about to let his friend start now; especially on a woman that he knew, deep down, Marcus still considered to be a friend.

What happened to Adam and what should have happened to Harris…those were things that were meant to restore the balance. Those Guild members committed a serious wrong, but they deserved to be punished in the most humane of ways. Killing a man cleanly to spare him from a worse fate wasn’t something Grace understood. In her eyes it wasn’t righting a wrong or stopping torture; it was murder. For her there was no room for gray, only black and white. She was the Death Dealer because she wanted to see good everywhere, or else root it out where it wasn’t. The poor lass didn’t understand the life Marcus led, and for his part, Marcus didn’t understand hers.

Thom steered Marcus from the room. He, at least, saw the shades of gray.

~*~*~

Grace struck out from the merchant family on the second day; changing courses and making for Egona. She knew her friend Henry would welcome her and help her get transport to Arganis. The road was lonely and she listened intently for others. She passed a few people, waved politely, and continued on without a word.

Behind her, coming up fast, were the hooves of a horse. She stepped off the road to wait and Jack reigned in a brown gelding next to her. She was pleased to see a sheathed sword attached to the saddle, as she had forgotten her weapon in Glenbard in her rush to leave. Jack returned it now.

She took in the gelding he rode. It hung its head when Jack stopped it, wanting nothing more than to graze, but there he was, forced to ride. Grace patted his muzzle. Jack sold his sweet natured horse, Pilgrim, to a merchant before he first abandoned Grace. The brown beast he rode now was old and sad, but it was probably all he could afford. She knew the poor animal wouldn’t be able to carry them both. Jack dismounted.

“Would you like to ride while I lead? Your feet must be tired.”

“I’m fine. Did you destroy my note?” She had written her plans to Jack and let Ridley deliver them, knowing he’d come as soon as possible. Although she’d assumed he wouldn’t catch up until after she arrived in Egona. She didn’t expect him to have a horse.

He wrapped an arm around her. “Of course. I felt the anger in the air as clearly as I smell this horse. I didn’t leave anything for anyone to find. So…Arganis?”

“I should go home, at least for a while. I’ve given up making trouble.”

“Your wisest decision yet, little chick.” His lips grazed her forehead. It was the safest she’d felt since Adam died. “I’d like to come with you.”

“Why?” She wasn’t surprised, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“I love you and I don’t want you to leave me. I barely survived when I left you, fool and coward that I was. I have nothing left back there if you go.”

She took his hand and took the reins of the horse in her other hand, and started walking again. “I love you too, but I don’t want you to come.”

He didn’t break his hold, but his hand went limp in hers. She compensated by holding on tighter, lacing her fingers into his. “Not yet, anyway. I want to be away from Glenbard and all its reminders for a little while, and I also want to be sure I truly want you there, and not just because I’m lonely.” Her heart had never healed. She idly wondered that if it had, would she have been so welcoming of having Jack’s affections again? “I’ll write you, and when the time is right, you can join me.”

“I understand, but if you take too long I’ll come up on my own.” Grace looked at him and saw his smile. She knew he would come to see her, to try to protect her if nothing else.

She smiled back. The road ahead was uncertain, but for now he would go with her. She turned her mind to the walk. No sense dreading the past
and
future at the same moment.

About the author:

Raised in the suburbs of Chicago, Katie Roman has been many things. Student, band geek, dog sitter, history major, and consummate tea drinker, but above all things she’s been a writer.

Visit her at www.katieromanbooks.com.