By Grace Alone (The Death Dealer Book 2) (6 page)

“Captain Ericson, I am a barmaid, not a confidant. Do try and remember that.” She mocked him with a half-hearted curtsey and was off again.

~*~*~

Grace dozed uncomfortably until the watch called the midnight hour. She had one hour to get ready and go. When she woke, she was more embarrassed by the events of the night than ever. Her temper had flared and gotten the best of her over dinner. She stormed out, which only showed her to be a silly little girl, and embarrassed a city guard, to boot. Even though that news would probably bring a smile to every patron of the Angel, she felt hot with shame about it. Moore had done nothing wrong and she had a fit. Grace sighed. There was nothing to be done about it now.

One of the advantages of Mistress Fisher’s rooms was that there was a secret door out into the alley. Fisher’s house once belonged to the Queen of Thieves, prior to Marcus’s take over. There were secret holds all over the bottom floor and two secret exits. One was in the main hall and one opened onto the roof. The trick was to find the latch in the dark without making too much noise.

Grace tucked the Death Dealer garb into a pack and slung it over her shoulder. Without the aid of a candle, Grace stole down the stairs. Fisher made sure all light was snuffed out by ten o’clock and no later. Any guests visiting after that hour were expected to pay, but being who he was, Marcus was usually offered light by the old battle axe herself, free of charge. Grace stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened. All was quiet except for a snoring tenant. That was good. The snores would help cover any noise Grace made.

Grace felt along the wall until she felt the small indentation. She pushed in and slid the door along. Fisher knew about the door and Grace was sure some of the other tenants did too, but as long as no one saw her, it made no difference. Whomever Nathaniel had undoubtedly hired to watch the house didn’t know to watch the alley for trouble.

Once out into the night air, Grace snaked her way through the back alleys. She never changed in the same place twice; instead, she looked out for a blind spot in an alley and undressed quickly. Tonight she positioned herself between two buildings. This was the most unpleasant part. She wore trousers under her dress, but for a few minutes she’d be exposed with only pants and a breast band on. After surveying the area one last time, she pulled the dress over her head and quickly put her black shirt on. The sleeves clung to her in the heated night air and she felt hot and sticky. With minimal grumbling, she got into her leather jerkin. She tied on her sword belt and put on the executioner’s hood.

After I do this one thing for Thom, I will burn this damned hood
, she told herself. This wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing, but the gods punished oath breakers and she wouldn’t have Thom or Marcus saying she was such a scoundrel. Secretly, she hoped Harris wasn’t even at the Emerald Rose. She didn’t want to be another accessory in anyone else’s death.

No, this wasn’t about death; this was a simple tracking mission. She just had to watch. If she accidentally “missed” Harris, she wouldn’t have to report anything. If Harris ran and didn’t hurt anyone, there was no problem. So why was her stomach in knots if this was going to be such a simple mission?

Grace shoved the dress into her sack to hide it as best she could. If it was stolen, no great loss. Checking her surroundings again, Grace crept silently away. She kept low and in the shadows, moving slowly in case any sleepless soul watched the alley from their home.

The alleys of Glenbard created a large network where the savvy could get from one side of the city to the other without ever setting foot on a main road. Grace had learned the twists, turns, and dead ends of the maze over the last year. She had a map drawn up by Thom, and she’d taken a good look at it before setting out for the Emerald.

The Emerald tavern was the roughest one in Glenbard, and the men who were paid to watch the doors and throw out the troublemakers usually didn’t last long. Some died, some were wounded beyond repair, and some simply went missing. Only a few ever walked away with merely a scratch. Anyone brave enough to tangle at the Emerald knew the risks. No doubt a drunken fool would love to get a bit of flesh off the Death Dealer.

Grace hugged the shadows and spied the alley door to the Emerald. One rusher stood outside, enjoying a pipe while, by the sounds of it, a great brawl was going on inside. Grace wouldn’t get closer unless Harris came out. She wouldn’t dare tangle with an Emerald rusher.

After a fair amount of time had passed, Grace became restless. Her headache returned, pounding anew in her temples. Her mind went back to the events during dinner, and under her hood she felt her face flush again. She owed the good sergeant an apology. It would be bad manners not to extend one. Then she thought about Marcus with his foolish and twisted code of honor. He should have just turned Adam over, thereby showing the Guard that the King of Thieves didn’t protect those who murdered. But no, he decided it was a Guild matter and therefore had taken it into his own hands. And where did that put them now?

Grace was preparing to give up and go home when a man suddenly burst out of the Emerald’s back door. She caught only a glimpse, but she was certain it was Harris. No one ran from the Emerald, not like that. This man hadn’t been thrown out. He fled.

Rushing away from her hiding spot, she tore off down the alley after him. He ran fast, fueled by fear. She pushed her legs harder to close the gap, to take away some of his lead, but strong arms wrapped around her middle and she went crashing to the ground; a great weight on top of her.

“He’s drunk and crazy!” her attacker growled. “He’ll kill you!”

The weight lifted off of her and someone pulled Grace back to her feet. She turned on her heel to box the person’s ear, but stopped when she saw who it was.

“Jack!”
He
was the rusher at the door! Of course he had been there. He was one of the few to walk away unscathed, but that meant he must have been back in Glenbard for some time. He’d come back…and never even came to see her.

Thoughts of pursuing Harris screeched to a halt as her mind tried to process the sudden reappearance of Jack. Behind him, she saw several men rushing out of the Emerald. They were trying to get to Harris. Her legs were frozen in place; her mind stopped working entirely.

“Run,” Jack hissed. “Get out of here!”

The command kicked Grace into gear again and she set off in the same direction as Harris. She took the first turn and followed the winding alleyways until they swung her back to Mistress Fisher’s; barely remembering to get her sack on the way. Though when she did get it, it smelled like a tom cat had sprayed it with his mark. She changed into the dress once more and stomached the smell long enough to get upstairs. She dumped the sack and dress into the hall. Let the stench burn into Fisher’s nostrils for a while.

He was back
. Jack Anders was back in Glenbard. The man who said he loved Grace and then jumped on a trade ship with barely a good-bye. Now he was back, and without even a hello. Finally home, Grace succumbed to her grief. She cried into her pillow until there was nothing left to cry, and then she stared helplessly at the wall.

Thom
knew
. Of course Thom would know! It was his job to know things like that. He’d sent her to the Emerald, knowing Jack worked there. Grace’s temper flared. She sat up in her bed and waited impatiently for the sun to rise.

Seven

The morning dawned bright and hot. The gray of the dawn sky hadn’t been completely chased away and the moon was visible opposite the rising sun, but a determined Grace left her lodging and made for Rogue’s Lane. Thom lived with Marcus and Ridley in their home on the edge of the Lane and Serenity Place.

The house was two stories; an uncommon occurrence for a Lane house not boarding more than one family. It even had a garden kept up by Thom, which was also unusual for Lane life. There wasn’t much time or space for gardens. Grace marched up the little path and resisted the urge to stamp on Thom’s stupid flowers. Instead she banged on the front door, hoping she was waking up the entire household.

Marcus’s cook, Ginger, opened the door. She was a tall, lanky woman who had lost much of her hair due to an illness in her youth. Now she wore a bright orange wig, which earned her the name ‘Ginger’. No one really remembered her true name anymore.

“Miss Grace!” she exclaimed. “It’s awfully early.”

“I need to see Thom!”

“Well he’s not up yet, and neither is Ridley. I’ll make you some tea and breakfast. You can wait-”

“
Now
, Ginger.” The cook looked hurt and Grace suddenly felt bad. “Please, it’s very important to me that you get him.”

Ginger looked unsure, but she still did as she was asked. Grace was left on the doorstep. Her body was tired from lack of sleep, but her mind raged. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Jack. He had left so suddenly without even an explanation, and everyone had seen how hurt she was. Thom sent her to the Emerald on purpose, and if anyone knew Jack Anders was back in Glenbard, it would be him.

He came out of the house looking guilty. Before her palm made contact with his cheek, she had no notion that she was going to slap him. Thom stared at her, his hand against his cheek, almost as stunned as she was. He closed the door behind him.

“Met Jack, did you?” This time Thom was prepared and grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to land the blow.

“How could you
do
that to me?” she hissed; working hard not to scream in his face. There was no need to draw any unwanted attention their way. Still, she struggled against Thom’s grip.

“I didn’t think he’d be there last night. Stop twisting, you crazy wench!” Thom pulled Grace into a great bear hug and pinned her arms to her side. “He’s been in the city for about a week. I told him to leave you be when I discovered he’d returned. You didn’t need to see him. It’d only muddle your brain, and you’re no good to anyone upset.”

“No good to
you
, you mean.” The only thing Thom and Marcus cared about was that she continued to follow their instructions. She wriggled free of his grasp. “I thought we were supposed to be friends.” She thought about spitting on his shoes, but decided that was too undignified for her. She stormed off instead.

~*~*~

She blew into the Angel like a hurricane, prepared to sweep any who got in her way into the very eye of the storm. No one raised a finger to stop her from going into the stables. If she had taken a minute to look around, she’d see that everyone avoided eye contact and whispered about her. She might have stopped her fury long enough to puzzle as to why she didn’t get the usual, “Little Gracie is all up in arms. Best hide the breakables.” If she’d stopped for even a moment, she might not have gone into the stables.

She intended to work in the stables for Mayhew today, as the hard labor always served to clear away some of her anger. But it seemed she wouldn’t have the chance to be rid of her foul mood. Jack waited for her.

He was dressed in dirt-stained trousers and a blood-stained white shirt. His beard hadn’t been trimmed in some time and he’d let his brown hair grow out; hanging down past his ears now. Grace gritted her teeth, ready to slap him if he got too close.

“Thom told me to stay away.”

“How long were you in Glenbard before he told you that?”

Jack lowered his head in shame. “About three days.” His admission didn’t surprise Grace. He could have been in the city for a month and never come to see her. He was only there now because he got caught.

“Get out of here,” she snapped.

“Grace, I know what you’re doing and –”

He wasn’t going to leave, not until he’d harassed her about the Death Dealer business. She didn’t have to listen, though. If Jack didn’t want to leave, she would. Grace turned on her heel and went back into the common room of the tavern. This time she was intensely aware of the talk buzzing about her. She marched into the kitchen.

Jim and Jeremiah looked at her, waiting for the storm to hit.

“Any trays need taking out?” She needed something to do. Anything, really.

“No, but the empty rooms could use a good deal of cleaning,” Jim responded quickly. “There’s dust everywhere and it’d do to chase the mice away. If there ain’t a guest inside, give it a good going over.”

Jim walked Grace out of the kitchen and saw Jack hovering by the stable door, looking ashamed. His head was down, his shoulders slumped, his usual pride evaporated. It was a new look for him and he was clearly uncomfortable. “Go on upstairs, Gracie. I’ll see to the ruffian.”

Grace could hear Jim yelling profanities at Jack from her place in one of the bedrooms upstairs. The tavern keeper had often been insufferable since Jack left, but he always meant well. Grace was grateful for him now.

~*~*~

It was the hottest part of the day before Grace stopped her cleaning for a meal. She’d opened all the shutters to air out the empty rooms, but with no breeze it didn’t do much. The back of her dress was drenched in sweat. She used her apron to wipe away the moisture on her forehead and saw the fabric smeared a dingy brown when she pulled it away from her face. The dust clung to her brow and wiping it away only left dirty streaks on her skin.

Sighing, she headed back to the common room where only about five patrons were hanging around. For once, no one paid much mind to Grace. She wandered into the kitchen to find Jeremiah alone, cutting up apples and cheese. She took a slice of freshly cut apple and popped it into her mouth.

“May as well take the rest of this one, then.” Jeremiah finished cutting up the apple and handed the plate to Grace. There were a few pieces of golden white cheese as well.

“Where’s Jim and Rosemary?”

“Rosemary’s down at the market and Jim is in the stables being questioned by the ever-vigilant Sergeant Moore.” The cook put down his knife to turn and stare at Grace. “I understand your evening with him ended shorter than expected.”

Grace rolled her eyes and blew out a frustrated sigh. “And how many people know about that?”

Jeremiah shrugged his shoulders. “Enough, I suppose. But Thom and Ridley wouldn’t let a bad word be said of you in the Angel for it. By my reckoning, no one should care who courts you. You aren’t a Lane girl and aren’t bred to fear and hate the city Guard.” He shrugged again, grabbed another apple from the basket next to him, and set to slicing it.

Grace continued her meal without another word and then filled a mug of ale to wash it down. She’d have to wait to get water from the well since Jim and Moore blocked her path through the stable at the moment. “Thanks for the apple, Jeremiah.”

He waved his knife hand without looking up. Grace returned to the next room needing attention and her nose was assaulted with a stale smell as soon as she entered. The room was closed up tight and nearly as dark as night. If memory served her correctly, this room hadn’t been touched since winter. She crossed the room to the shutters and opened them. Light poured in, but unfortunately so did the smell from the privies. Small wonder this room was barely touched. Grace did her best to work through the stench by tying a cloth around her mouth.

While sweeping, she heard raised voices outside, so she stopped her cleaning to listen.

“I know you’re hiding Marcus.” She dropped into a crouch to get closer to the window, recognizing the first voice as belonging to Sergeant Moore.

“I’ve told you, Marcus is visiting his ailing mother,” Thom responded.

“Ridley Hunewn has been heard saying otherwise. I believe Marcus’s dear, sweet ma is dead.” Thom said something in response, but Grace couldn’t make it out because Jim chose the same moment to laugh his boisterous laugh down in the common room.

“May I remind you of what your precious little Thieves’ Guild has done?”

“The Atkins boys don’t represent the Guild any more than you represent the Goddess Kamaria.”

“Don’t insult me, Thom. I know Marcus is in hiding while he looks for Harris Atkins. He’s also responsible for Adam’s ‘disappearance’, and the Guard doesn’t look favorably on that sort of behavior.”

Thom laughed. “You’d threaten the King of Thieves? Everyone knows you’re very keen on your duties, but come now, do you really think you’ll be able to throw Marcus in the lockup? Your Guard captain would have him released and you stripped of your rank within an hour.”

There was a long silence, and Grace wished she could see what was happening. Sergeant Moore’s face must have been a contorted mass of anger. The poor man was only doing what he felt he needed to, and Thom shouldn’t have been mocking him.

“I’m looking to see that Harris faces the King’s justice for his crime.”

“He’d never survive that long. I’ve seen a guard or two slain in my day, and the murderers go into the lockup fit men, only to come out mangled, broken corpses. No one deserves that much punishment.”

The response was so soft it reached Grace’s ears as a series of mumbles. Another few moments of silence passed before she heard Thom say, “Good day, Sergeant Moore.” Grace heard their footsteps lead away from the privies.

~*~*~

Grace left the Angel before the sun completely disappeared in the sky. She had cleaned all day and helped Jim get dinner served up for everyone. Her body ached. She was exhausted. All she wanted to do was flop face down on her bed, but outside the Angel she caught sight of Sergeant Moore hanging around. The hope of going straight to bed washed away in a wave of disappointment.

“Miss Hilren.” He came up alongside her.

“You said you would leave me be if I had dinner with you. And yet here you are.”

“Only to apologize. It was wrong to bring you into the King’s Beard as a novelty for everyone to gawk at.”

Grace stopped walking and stared up at the sergeant. He looked contrite and miserable. Maybe he really was sorry.

“I think I can see fit to forgive you.” He brightened and Grace thought about how handsome he looked in his uniform, smiling down at her.

“It would ease my mind greatly, and as promised, you won’t be bothered by me again.” He turned to leave.

Grace thought about Moore’s talk with Thom. Even if Nathaniel left her alone, he would still be around the Angel fairly often. If she sweet talked him enough, he might even slip and give away information about Harris. “Perhaps you can take me to breakfast tomorrow to make up for the folly of last night.”

He stopped and turned to gawk at her. Quickly he smiled, beaming ear to ear. “I’ll be by Mistress Fisher’s lodgings at...” He waited for her to pick the time.

“I go into the Angel an hour after the sun rises, so you best come by around daybreak.”

Moore took her hand and kissed it. “Tomorrow morning then, as the sun rises over our fair city.”

Grace continued on home alone, in a haze until she got into her room. Her mind had wandered to Nathaniel Moore the entirety of her walk. She shook the feelings from her head, but in trying to clear him out, she remembered Jack. That fiend was still in Glenbard. Grace lay down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling very tired and heartsick again. Tears streamed down her face until she fell asleep.

~*~*~

The captain of the Merchant Way guardhouse came across young Nathaniel Moore hard at work in the mess hall. Captain Ericson was a lean man in his early forties with wispy hair on top, but a full beard he sometimes braided. Tonight his beard was combed out, hanging down to his collarbone.

“How goes your hunt?” Nathaniel got off his bench to salute the captain. “Stay seated, young man,” Captain Ericson commented and sat down across from him.

There was one candle burning between them, but other than that, the mess hall in the Rogue’s Lane guardhouse was dark. Stretched out before Nathaniel was a map of the Lane, and Ericson took a hold of it, asking, “May I?”

“Please go ahead, sir.”

The captain pulled the map over to his side and noticed X’s over some houses. “What are these?”

“Homes that I know are housing fugitives. I’m trying to find Harris’s hiding place.”

“When I was a lad, the Guild used to handle men like Harris Atkins.”

“A guard is dead, sir, and Marcus shouldn’t be allowed to continue as he has. Why should the thieves decide who lives and dies? Men like Marcus shouldn’t get to dole out retribution on their whims.”

Ericson shook his head. “My father was a guard…a captain, actually. A fool like Harris knifed him. The current king hunted him halfheartedly, and then decided the man was too valuable to the Guild. We received coin from the Guard and coin from the Guild, and that was the end of it. No vengeance for my father.”