Thieftaker (39 page)

Ethan shook his head. “Whyh?” he asked again, more stridently.

Darrow pressed his lips thin, his patience apparently on the wane. “Why, what? Why wouldn’t they trust each other?”

Ethan shook his head, holding the man’s gaze.

Darrow’s bearing changed; he understood what Ethan wanted to know. He walked back to where Ethan leaned against the tree and drew a knife from his belt. Ethan’s knife.

Darrow laid the tip of the blade beside Ethan’s eye, pressing it lightly against the skin. “I would prefer you whole,” the man said quietly, his breath on Ethan’s cheek. “But you understand that if you do anything to anger me—anything at all—I’ll take out your eye.”

“Yesh.”

Darrow reached up and tugged the gag away from Ethan’s mouth.

Ethan opened his mouth wide, then closed it and swallowed. His jaw hurt and his throat was parched.

“What is it you want to know?” Darrow demanded, still pressing the knife against Ethan’s flesh.

“Why kill Jennifer Berson?” Ethan asked, sounding hoarse.

“I thought that was what you were asking,” Darrow said. “You might say that the Berson girl was my one mistake, except that in the end she won’t matter very much. The truth is I didn’t know it was her until after I had killed her. I needed someone for the spell, and I found her. She was dressed plainly, wandering the streets near Mackintosh’s mob. She had no business being there, and I simply didn’t recognize her.” He shrugged. “I realized who she was only after she was dead and the spell was cast.”

“And that’s when you stole the brooch,” Ethan said.

“I needed to make her murder into something that her family would understand. If there were questions, I would have trouble. Make it about their riches, and they would grieve, they would want their jewel back, but they would blame the brutish rabble. It would be a terrible loss, of course, but it would make sense in their view of the world.” He opened his hands, as if the logic of all he had done was beyond question. “And it would fit perfectly with what I wanted to do. I just didn’t count on you being so damned inquisitive.”

“What was the spell for?”

“What do you think?”

Ethan considered this, and as he did, he remembered something Adams had told him in the Green Dragon. “The attack on Hutchinson’s house,” he said, meeting Darrow’s gaze. “The Sons of Liberty approved of the rest of what Mackintosh did. They probably put him up to it. But not that.”

“Well done, Kaille.”

“And the girl you killed this morning—you used her death to compel Sheriff Greenleaf to release Mackintosh.”

Darrow’s expression darkened. “That was your fault. Ideally, I would have left him in prison. Adams and Otis would have left him there, too, and that would have angered Mackintosh’s followers. But now Mackintosh has another murder to commit.”

Comprehension hit Ethan like a fist to the gut. He leaned his head back against the tree and stared up at the moon through a tangle of leaves and branches. He had kept Darrow from using Holin’s death to control him, but now, very likely, he would be used for a casting that would control Mackintosh.

“I’ll use your death to convince poor Ebenezer that he killed you. You were an agent of the Sons of Liberty, you see. And you were intent on seeing him punished for the Berson murder. It all fits together rather nicely, don’t you think?” After a brief pause, he added, “Don’t worry, Kaille. It’s not a bad way to go, actually. You’ll hardly feel a thing. Given how much I’ve wanted to hurt you at various times over the past several days, you could have come to a much worse end.”

“You’re working for the Crown?” Ethan asked, facing him again. “The king’s men know what you’re doing?”

“I serve His Majesty,” Darrow said. Ethan thought he heard a note of defensiveness in his voice. “His men don’t have to know all that I do. They trust me. They know that I’ll do all in my power to guard the empire.”

Ethan wasn’t sure he believed this, but he didn’t dare challenge the man. “So Jennifer Berson was a mistake,” he said. “What about the others?”

“What others?” But Ethan could tell that he knew.

“The boy on Pope’s Day,” Ethan said. “And whoever it was you killed the day the Richardsons swung.”

Darrow regarded him for several moments. “I
am
impressed.”

Before Ethan could respond, Darrow sheathed the knife and retied Ethan’s gag, making it even tighter than it had been. Still leaning close to him, Darrow whispered. “I needed the boy in November for the same reason I needed the girl this morning. As to the other…” He opened his hands. “Adams already told you: Mackintosh and his counterpart in the North End were speaking of a truce, of ending their Pope’s Day feud in order to strengthen the non-importation agreements against the Grenville Acts. We couldn’t have that.” Darrow smiled. “And as it happens, no one died that day who wasn’t going to die anyway.” He stepped back. “And now, I really must go greet Ebenezer. But don’t worry, we’ll be back shortly.”

He checked Ethan one last time. Then he walked away, his shoes scraping on cobblestone as his form was swallowed by the night.

As soon as Ethan could no longer hear Darrow’s footsteps, he turned his attention to escaping, or at least finding a way to draw blood. Biting his tongue or cheek would have been ideal, since Darrow wouldn’t have noticed that he bled. But the lawyer had made that impossible when he retied the gag so tightly.

The bark of the tree—an elm from the look of it—was rough enough to have scraped his skin, but his chains didn’t allow him enough freedom of movement to do much more than rub his coat sleeve until it was threadbare.

The manacles, however, might be another matter. If he could remove some of the cloth covering the metal at his wrist or ankle he could cut his skin on its edge. Pulling his hand as far out of the cuff as he could, so that the ring pressed into his flesh, and then bracing the cuff and hand against the tree, Ethan was able to reach the cloth covering with his fingers. He couldn’t grip it well, but this covering hadn’t been firmly attached to the metal.

He worked it methodically with his fingers, rubbing at it again and again. The cloth came away slowly, bunching beneath his fingers, until at last he could feel cold iron. The manacle was smoother than he had hoped it would be. Worse, its edge had been rounded, so that it offered him little chance to cut his skin. Still he tried. Shifting his hand again, bracing the cuff differently, this time against the tension of the chain, he was able to push that exposed edge against his skin, just below his thumb.

He began to scrape his wrist against the edge, working as quickly as he could, knowing that Darrow would be back before long. But though his hand grew sore and began to redden, nothing he did scraped away any skin. He would eventually have a bruise, if he lived long enough, but this wasn’t going to draw blood.

As far as he could tell, there was no way he could use the cuffs and chains at his ankles. But toying once more with the chains that held his arms, Ethan realized that by lifting his arm a little and keeping it close to the trunk he could create enough slack in the chain to get his fingers into the links.

It wasn’t something he wanted to do. Pell and Kannice might have challenged him on this after the week he’d had, but Ethan really didn’t enjoy pain. But there would be blood, and in this circumstance nothing else mattered. The trick would be concealing the wound from Darrow.

He heard footsteps, then distant voices approaching.

“… Hurt me?”

“He’s a thieftaker, Ebenezer. A mercenary. He was hired to do this. What he wants or doesn’t want is beside the point.”

“Bu’ who hired him?”

“That is the most difficult part of this, at least for me. I suppose I bear some of the blame for not anticipating where all of this would lead. But it was Adams and Otis.”

The footsteps ceased.

“Mister Adams an’ Mister Otis hired him so tha’ he could bloody me an’ then send me back t’ th’ prison?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Ethan placed the pointing finger of his right hand into a chain link and then tried to wrench it out. It didn’t work the first time, or the next. And with the second attempt, the chain rattled against the tree with a chiming sound.

Darrow and Mackintosh had started walking again, but they halted a second time at a sharp “shhh!” from the lawyer.

Ethan had one last chance. He placed his finger back in the link and twisted it out again. This time it did what he had hoped it would. It tore the nail away from his finger.

He inhaled sharply through his teeth, hoping that Darrow wouldn’t hear. He felt warm blood pour from the finger and he cupped his hand around it, catching the blood. At the same time, he lowered his arm as carefully and as quickly as he could, this time doing his best to keep the chain silent.

There was enough blood flowing that he feared it would drip and catch Darrow’s eye, so he wiped his hand on the tree bark as close to his body as possible. He then shifted his feet enough so that he could at least partially block the stain from Darrow’s view.

All of this took him but a few seconds, which was fortunate because just as he lowered his hand and assumed as casual a stance as he could manage, Darrow and Mackintosh stepped into the firelight. The cordwainer had been speaking again, but now he fell silent, halting at the edge of the fire glow and eyeing Ethan warily.

Ethan gazed back at them both, trying to keep his expression neutral. He had blood for a conjuring. Now he needed to find the right spell.

Chapter

T
WENTY-ONE

D
arrow came forward, his eyes narrowed. “What have you been up to?”

Ethan was sure he intended to check his manacles, chains, and gag to make sure they were still secure. Doing so, he was certain to see the blood on Ethan’s hand, and all would be lost.

But Mackintosh, after glaring at him for a few seconds, drew a knife from his belt and started toward Ethan, murder in his eyes.

Darrow blocked his path. “No, Ebenezer! That’s the last thing you want to do. Believe me. I assure you, you’ll have your vengeance soon enough.”

Mackintosh still glowered at Ethan. For an instant, Ethan thought that he might try to push his way past Darrow. But he nodded and reluctantly put away his knife.

“That’s a good lad,” Darrow said. He glanced back at Ethan, flashing a quick, amused smile, as if he and Ethan had shared some great jest. For the moment, he seemed to have forgotten that he wanted to check Ethan’s shackles.

“Why d’ you have him chained up like tha’?” the cordwainer asked. “You’d think he was strong as a bear, with all that iron on him. An’ why wrap his manacles?”

Darrow eyed Mackintosh for a moment. The blood still flowed from Ethan’s finger, and he took this opportunity to wipe it on the tree bark behind him, watching Darrow the whole time.

“That’s a fine question,” the lawyer said, facing Ethan again. “Can you think of a reason not to tell him?”

“Tell me wha’?” Mackintosh asked.

“That he’s a conjurer.”

The cordwainer’s brow furrowed. “A wha’?”

“What you and I would call a witch. He can cast spells.”

Mackintosh’s frown deepened. “You’re mad.”

“No, I’m not. That’s the reason I have him chained this way. We can’t let him have access to any blood. Blood for a conjurer is like whiskey for a drunk: He should be denied it at all costs.” He crossed to Ethan and looked him over carefully. “Now what were you up to before?”

Knowing that any motion on his part would draw Darrow’s attention, Ethan tried to hide his wounded hand, but in a way that would make the man think he was concealing the raw spot on his wrist.

Darrow grabbed his forearm, and lifted Ethan’s hand so that the firelight could reach it. Ethan kept his hand fisted, hiding the bloody finger, and just as he had hoped, Darrow immediately noticed the exposed metal on the manacle.

“Ethan,” he said in a stern voice. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He ran a finger over the darkening bruise on Ethan’s wrist. “Didn’t amount to much, did it?”

Ethan shook his head.

“Wha’ is it he’s done?”

Darrow glanced back at Mackintosh. “He tried to cut his wrist on the metal cuff.” He smoothed out the cloth, making certain that all of the metal was covered once more. “We’re fortunate that he didn’t succeed. I promise you he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill us both with his witchery.” As he spoke, he checked the other manacles. Apparently satisfied that Ethan was still powerless to escape, he returned to the cordwainer’s side.

“So you wan’ me t’ believe tha’ he’s a witch—a real witch, who can make spells an’ tha’ sort o’ thing?”

“That’s right. More, I think it’s possible that he killed Jennifer Berson himself, and has been trying to blame you for the murder, all at the behest of Samuel Adams, James Otis, and the Loyal Nine.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re a dangerous man, Ebenezer. Adams and the others think of themselves as leaders, but you really are one. They want to control you, and failing that, they’ll eliminate you and control the men you lead.”

Ethan shook his head, making the chain at his neck ring.

“I think he’s tryin’ t’ say tha’ you’re wrong.”

Darrow laughed convincingly. “Of course he is. Would you expect him to do anything else?”

“He’hsh lhying!” Ethan said through the gag.

“Wha’ was tha’?” Mackintosh asked.

Darrow turned toward Ethan, a sly look on his handsome face. “I believe he said that I’m lying.”

“Take out his gag. I want t’ hear wha’ he has t’ say.”

“I can’t do that, Ebenezer. Without the gag in his mouth he can bite down on his tongue, make himself bleed, and kill us both.”

“Barrowh’s a wihs fhoo!” Ethan said, staring hard at Mackintosh, hoping that he would hear “Darrow’s a witch, too,” in the sound he had made.

Rage flashed in Darrow’s eyes. Clearly he had understood.

“What’d he say tha’ time?”

Darrow shook his head. “I’m not sure. And it doesn’t matter.”

Mackintosh watched Ethan, clearly troubled by all that he had heard. “Well, so he’s a witch. Wha’ are we going t’ do with him?”