By Grace Alone (The Death Dealer Book 2) (7 page)

Nathaniel watched the captain’s face. He wasn’t angry, just sad. “Would you have chased the man down?”

“I was only eight. I couldn’t hunt anyone down. But what’s to stop Marcus from deciding young Atkins is too valuable to lose? Constable Taylor was a rotten knave. He cheated enough men out of dice, he flirted with enough wives, and was easy to buy off. But he was one of ours. We owe him justice.”

Nathaniel took back his map. “I’m finding it hard to garner support here.”

“The Lane has always been in the pockets of the Guild. I’d suggest finding the Death Dealer. Take out Marcus’s pawn first.” Ericson got up and waved his hand when Nathaniel started to rise. “Get some sleep.”

Ericson left the mess hall and Nathaniel went back to his map. He would continue knocking on doors and investigating, but maybe the captain had a point. The Death Dealer was a known ally to the Guild.

The masked marauder once rode through the north fighting brigands and putting murderers like Harris Atkins into the grave. If the Death Dealer who resided in Glenbard was the same as the hero of the north, then perhaps Nathaniel could convince him where his loyalties should lie. It was only a matter of tracking the Death Dealer down.

Eight

Grace woke with a start when a hand pressed over her mouth. “Don’t scream,” was the instruction that came out of the dark. Screaming was the second thing Grace wanted to do. The first was to stab the intruder, but this one had wisely moved her dagger outside of her reach. She could see the blade on the floor.

“Jack?” was her muffled response, though it sounded more like a confused grunt.

Jack removed his hand from her mouth and Grace worked to adjust her eyes to the darkness. She sat up in bed and a darkened figure crossed the room to sit at her desk. She rubbed her eyes and glared into the darkness. Jack appeared as a darkened lump in the corner of her room.

“What are you doing here?” If she screamed she’d wake up Mistress Fisher, and Mistress Fisher would call for the guard. The scandal of Jack Anders in her room would be all over Glenbard in an hour. Jack had picked his time to harass her well. She had no way to fight and scream with him now. “How did you get in?”

“Have you forgotten that I helped you and Marcus test the secret doors?” She
had
forgotten. More appropriately, she had forced herself to forget. It wasn’t a comforting thought to know he could come in at any time to see her. “I know what you were doing lurking in the shadows at the Emerald last night.”

“How do
you
know what I was doing?”

“Only the blind, deaf, and dumb don’t know what’s happening with the Guild and the Guard.” Even though it was dark, Grace could tell Jack was making himself far too comfortable in her lodgings. She heard him rustling and shifting as he sat, and the thud of boots on wood meant he’d put his feet up. She narrowed her eyes but the effect was lost in the darkness.

“What business is it of yours, anyway?”

“I’m not interested in you getting hurt because of Marcus.”

“I imagine you think it’s only all right for you to hurt me.”

Grace couldn’t see his face, but she heard him shift uncomfortably on the other side of the room. He was often like a rock, so to hear him uncomfortable was enough to bring a grim smile to her face.

“I’m trying to tell you to stay clear of the situation,” he said after a considerable pause.

“You’ve no place to tell me what I can and cannot do! You don’t know what’s best for me, you scoundrel and—”

“Shut up, Grace.” He kept his voice down to avoid drawing anyone to the door, but he was mad. And he wasn’t the kind of man who talked around subjects when the blunt truth worked. “I know you’re smarter than this, and you’ve always placed yourself above these sorts of things. You gave up the hood. What are you
thinking
?”

Being the Death Dealer was the one thing Grace had after Jack left. Being the Death Dealer was a way to combat her grief after her father’s death. It was a way to keep her grounded and away from despair. Without it, she almost became a living ghost. Occupying her mind and body with chasing petty criminals and being Marcus’s watchdog was how she managed each day after Jack’s departure. She wouldn’t admit that to Jack, though she couldn’t say if she held her tongue because the truth would hurt him, or because it wouldn’t hurt him enough.

“Harris deserves a better fate than the two before him,” Grace replied softly.

“Better than a swift, merciful death or the certainty of torture? I’d say he’s in better hands with Marcus and the like.”

“I mean he deserves the King’s justice. A trial. A fair hearing. No one cared much for the constable he killed, so why beat up on a fool like Harris?”

Jack laughed softly from his seat and Grace frowned into the darkness at the sound. “Gods, Grace…a King’s justice? If he even
survives
to court, he’ll be sentenced to hang! Have you ever seen a hanged man? King’s justice isn’t any more merciful than torture, and you should know. You’d have been burned as a witch if King’s justice prevailed.” He was right.

If Grace hadn’t escaped after her fiasco at the King’s tournament, she would have been tried as a witch. Witches didn’t fare well when it came to King’s justice.

“The only benefit to Harris is that it might be over quicker if Marcus slits his throat.” A sigh followed. “You can’t straddle the line between the Guild and the Guard anymore. Did Thom send you to the Emerald? Or did you do it for that uppity guard you’ve taken a fancy to?” This time Grace knew Jack’s expression without having to see it. He was hurt. His brow would be creased, his eyes would be sad, and his mouth would be turned downward in the same scowl he wore when they first met.

“Thom asked me, and for your information I told him it was the last time he could ask for my help.”

“At least you have some wisdom left. Why are you wasting your energies on this if you’re not planning to help the Guild or the Guard, and if you didn’t care for this Taylor fellow anyway?”

This gave her pause. “Atonement, I suppose,” she said at length. “I turned his brother over to Marcus without a thought, and Adam wasn’t even the one who dealt the fatal blow.”

“My little chick, the goddess blessed you with a good, but foolish heart.” Her heart fluttered at his pet name for her and she choked back an unexpected sob. “Please don’t cry.” She heard him rise from the seat at her desk and walk toward the bed. “I’ll help you find Harris, and then you can decide what you’re going to do with him when you do.”

“Why help me? You have no great love of my activities.”

“I did you wrong and I want to make it right.”

She could see him moving in the dark, a shadow amongst other shadows. His hand reached out and she didn’t pull away. His fingers brushed her cheek, finding a few tears that had escaped.

“Is it even possible?” he breathed. “Can you ever let me make it right?”

“I don’t think so,” she said without thinking.

A pregnant pause invaded the darkness. Jack’s warm hand remained on her cheek, and she didn’t try to knock it away. “No matter, I will try anyway. Get some sleep. I’ll keep my ears and eyes open for Harris. You keep out of trouble.” He chucked her under the chin affectionately.

She suddenly wanted to get up and kiss him, to unload her troubles on him. He listened and understood her in a way no one else in Glenbard did. But it would be a mistake with one, very hurtful ending.

“Good night, Jack.”

Grace thought she saw the gleam of his teeth in the dark, but couldn’t be sure. It made no matter. He left the room without making a sound.

~*~*~

Grace woke in no mood for nonsense the following day. She wanted to stay in bed, locked away. She thought about paying some urchin to run to the Angel and declare her ill, but she remembered her breakfast with Nathaniel. If she wanted to attempt to get information from the sergeant, she couldn’t break their plans.

Grace dressed in her most worn, green linen dress. It had ripped and been patched a dozen times since she moved to Glenbard, but it was comfortable and light; perfect for a hot summer day. She slipped her feet into a pair of dingy slippers leftover from her days as a lady. She left her hair loose to hang down her back for the time being. She could put it up at the Angel when the sweat on the back of her neck became too much to bear. The good sergeant was waiting patiently when she emerged from her lodging.

He beamed at seeing her.  “Miss Hilren,” he greeted, and held his arm out to her. She hesitated only a moment before taking it. He took them toward the market. “I had to ask a nobby merchant if it was good and proper for me to offer my arm and kiss your hand.”

“Don’t pretend a boy outside the merchant’s district doesn’t know how to court properly. They don’t club women and drag them back to their lodgings in Glenbard,” she said.

Nathaniel laughed. It was a sound Grace could get used to, like large bells proclaiming good news. It was genuine. “I thought I could impress you, but I suppose I’ll have to work harder. Perhaps if I ate fire or juggled?”

Grace frowned. “And why would you need to impress me? If you want information, you should have asked Rosemary. She’s prettier and will say anything for a wink and a flower.”

“Well I happen to find you pretty, and I know better than to ask information of you. I meant only that I like you. Though it is nice to know in what esteem you hold poor Rosemary.” He laughed again, those melodious bells sounding, and she blushed.

Nathaniel led them into the market. He talked mostly, commenting on the heat, the recent festival to the sun god, Ciro, and various other light topics. He picked up some cinnamon pastries and led her over to the fountain, where they sat side by side and enjoyed their breakfast. There was no wind, but a few cooling drops of water still managed to hit Grace where she sat.

“May I ask you a rather personal question?” Nathaniel said when he’d finished his pastry. “You don’t have to give me an answer, of course.”

“I suppose,” Grace replied. She knew he would ask something about the Marcus business, and she was having such a lovely morning with the sergeant, too. “If I may ask one of you.”

“A fair deal, from a fair lady,” he said, nodding his agreement.

“Ask away, Sergeant Moore.”

“Is it true you beat Prince Drake with an arm tied behind your back?”

“I...what?”

“In last year’s tournament, you bested our prince. I heard tell you did it with one arm tied behind your back and an imp on your shoulder.”

Grace blinked, and for once was unsure what she should say. “Is that what people say?” She thought she’d already heard all the strange tales people told of her, but this was new and weird, even by the standards of Glenbard. “Why would there have been an imp?”

This time Nathaniel paused. “I imagine it was to tell you in what direction to swing the sword.” His face was deathly serious. “I must know, Grace.” His stone face remained another moment before he cracked a smile. He quickly hid it away again. He was trying to tease her.

“Well I am sorry to disappoint you, but there was no imp and both my arms were free.”

“Then how did you best a trained knight?” This time his question was serious, with no hint of mockery on his face.

“A bit of luck, I suppose. It helps that the Prince had been dueling all day and I was fresh to the field. And I had training with a sword.” Nathaniel waited silently for her to continue. “My Uncle Leon was a trained knight and the arms master in Barony Arganis. He thought the village children should know how to defend themselves, and took it upon himself to train them. We have a port in the north. It is small, but ruffians still land there from time to time. Leon trained girls in the basics of defense, the same as he did the boys. A few years after my father’s death, I decided I wanted to be useful and book learning bored me to tears. So I joined the village children in their lessons.

“Long after the others were dismissed, I continued. I made Uncle Leon teach me the same things my cousin Calvin was learning. Calvin was newly knighted, and I got the better of him sometimes. Sword fighting makes sense to me because I don’t have to over think it. I let my muscles do that instead. I practiced from dawn to dusk, sometimes even bringing the sword to meals with me.”

“And your uncle didn’t see it as unnatural to teach you?”

“I was always to be at the mercy of my uncles after my father died. Uncle George married my mother so she could keep her title, but that meant he would arrange a prosperous marriage for me to further the family. Uncle Leon’s son would be the one to inherit the lands that belonged to my father. I would eventually marry and be subject to my husband’s whims, but Uncle Leon didn’t think I deserved to be physically weak, too.” However he wouldn’t understand or agree if he ever discovered she had become a vigilante. But she didn’t say that part out loud.

Nathaniel nodded. “I suppose a nobby lady doesn’t have as much freedom to move about as a Lane girl.”

Grace shrugged. She knew plenty of girls subject to the same restrictions, Lane or noble. “It all depends on the circumstances, I suppose. No one has ever really asked me about the tournament. No one except Ridley.”

“May I ask another probing question?” She nodded. “Why did you do it?”

“I had great pride in House Arganis. Calvin was going to forfeit the tournament due to an injury, and I thought it would shame the barony if our house didn’t participate. So I pretended to be him. Honestly I didn’t think it through past entering the ring. The shame of being cast out and accused of witchcraft didn’t factor into my plans of glory for my cousin.”

“Ah.” He made no other comment and she wondered if he thought she was a wreckless, foolish girl. “Now your question, lady.”

This was her chance to get information from Nathaniel, information that could help her find Harris, but she couldn’t come off as being a spy for Marcus. “The Angel is on edge, for obvious reasons. Do you intend to turn the Lane on its head forever?”

“And I thought we agreed not to discuss such unpleasant things.” All signs of mirth disappeared from his face.

“The Guild works out of the Angel, and the recent happenings have upset everyone, not just men like Marcus. I want to know if I should seek employment off the Lane or not; somewhere less volatile, like maybe the Emerald.”

“The Guild isn’t all bad. They do provide for folk, but Marcus thinks he owns the city. I just want to show him that law
will
reign here, and you may repeat that as loudly as you like.” Nathaniel shook his head angrily; his jovial nature completely gone.