A Plunder of Souls (The Thieftaker Chronicles) (32 page)

“I don’t know what that was,” the captain said, enjoying himself far too much. “But it didn’t work.”

Spots of light clouded Ethan’s vision. The room seemed to be spinning and darkening. He clawed at his throat again, but he could tell that his hands weren’t working as he wanted them to. He didn’t think Ramsey would go so far as to kill him, but his certainty was fading.

Yet another conjuring shook the building. Ramsey turned, still grinning.

“I’m afraid you’re no better than he is.”

A second man spoke in Latin. Ethan recognized the voice, but couldn’t put a name to it. His thoughts were fragmented, incoherent. But he sensed the hum of one more spell, and he saw Ramsey stagger as from a blow. The captain raised a hand to his temple. It came away bloody.

Fini evocationem ex cruore evocatum!
Ethan cried in his mind. End conjuring, conjured from blood!

The blood vanished from Ramsey’s hand, and the building hummed again. Ethan breathed in, exhaled. The pressure on his throat was gone.

“I can kill you just as easily as I can kill him,” Ramsey said. “Easier, since you haven’t summoned a shade.” He glared at Mariz, who stood in the doorway, fresh blood running down his arm, his bloodied blade held in his other hand.

Ethan forced himself up onto his knees and crawled to retrieve his blade.

“I think you will find that more difficult than you imagine,” Mariz said. He looked past Ramsey to Ethan.

“All right, Kaille?”

Ethan nodded, cut his arm.

Several of Ramsey’s shades were advancing on Ethan again. Others had turned their attention to Mariz.

“
Remedium ex cruore evocatum,
” Ethan said. Healing, conjured from blood. He directed the conjuring at Ramsey’s leg, hoping to use his healing spell to shatter the bone from within. But the spell failed, drawing a laugh from Ramsey. Another conjuring pulsed in the floor. Ethan didn’t know what kind of spell it was, but he saw the blood vanish from Mariz’s arm. Again, though, nothing happened.

Mariz and Ethan shared a look.

“You’re persistent,” Ramsey said. “I’ll give you both credit for that. But you see now how futile this is. I will not be stopped.”

Iubeo, Nathaniel Ramsey, te mea iussa facere ex verbasco evocatum,
Ethan chanted silently, caring not at all how many leaves he used. I command you, Nathaniel Ramsey, do my bidding, conjured in mullein.

The shade of Ramsey’s father stepped directly in front of Ethan, forcing the other shades, including those advancing on Mariz, to stop in their tracks. Ramsey’s ghost stared hard at Ethan, his brow bunched.

“I know that you don’t approve,” Ethan said to the glowing figure. “This is your chance to stop him.”

Nate Ramsey’s face reddened, and he leveled a rigid finger at Ethan’s heart. “My father is not yours to command!”

“Apparently he is.”

The shade turned to face his son.

“Release him!” Ramsey roared, his gaze sliding away from that of his father.

“Call back your shades.”

Ethan cut himself again. “
Tegimen ex cruore evocatum.
” Warding, conjured from blood. At the touch of power, Reg faced Ethan, their eyes meeting. Ethan wasn’t sure why, but this one time he sensed that his spell had worked. Perhaps by drawing the attention of the ghosts, Ramsey had left the boundary between the living and the dead unguarded, allowing Ethan access to the power there.

The shades watched both Ramseys; Ethan sensed that they were awaiting commands from one of them or the other.

Nate Ramsey hacked at his arm and muttered a spell Ethan couldn’t hear. He felt the conjuring and was nearly knocked off his feet by the force of whatever the captain had thrown at him. But his warding held.

“Damn you!” Ramsey said, shouting the words. “Let him go!”

“Get out of here,” Ethan said. “When you and your shades are gone, I’ll release him. And not before.”

“I can kill you where you stand!”

“I believe you just tried that. It didn’t work. And it’s fortunate for you that it failed. Or to be more precise, it’s fortunate for your father.”

Ethan heard a loud click. Mariz had pulled out a pistol and now held it full-cocked and aimed at Ramsey.

“Nigel’s,” he said for Ethan’s benefit.

“I can destroy that weapon with any number of spells,” Ramsey said, sounding like a boastful child.

“And I can blow a hole in your head before the Latin crosses your lips.” Mariz shifted his gaze to Ethan. “Indeed, I feel compelled to ask why I should not do this, regardless of whether he casts.”

“Because he’s leaving now,” Ethan said. He gestured at Ramsey’s shades. “And because I’m not ready to condemn all of these souls to oblivion.”

“I can bring this entire building down,” Ramsey said. “I can kill both of you.”

“Is that truly a risk you wish to take?” Ethan asked.

The spirit of Ramsey the elder had not moved since turning to look at his son, but he stepped forward now, shaking his head. He pointed toward the door with a glowing hand.

Ramsey held his father’s gaze for several seconds. No being in the room moved or made a sound, until at last the captain broke eye contact with the shade of his father.

“You have one night’s reprieve, Kaille. That’s all you’ve accomplished here.”

Ethan kept his silence.

The corner of Ramsey’s mouth quirked upward in a bitter smile. And as it did, the shades he had summoned vanished. With their departure, the room dimmed.

Mariz sidled away from the door, keeping his eyes on Ramsey and his pistol aimed at the captain’s head.

“You’ve made an enemy tonight,” Ramsey said to him. “You shouldn’t have come here, and”—he jerked a thumb in Ethan’s direction—“you shouldn’t have cast your lot with him.”

When Mariz didn’t answer either, Ramsey laughed. “Fools,” he said. An instant later, his expression hardened once more. “You will release him as soon as I’m gone. I’ll know if you don’t. And for every second he is forced to linger here, I’ll prolong by an hour your final torment. You’ll endure pain beyond your darkest imaginings.”

“When you’re on your ship, and not before.”

The look Ramsey gave him could have flayed the flesh from his bones. The captain cast one last glance at his father, and left the room. Ethan listened for his steps on the wooden stairway leading down to the narrow alley below.

Mariz started to speak, but Ethan raised a hand, silencing him. When Ethan no longer heard Ramsey’s footsteps he walked past Mariz and onto the landing outside his door. He caught a glimpse of the captain turning the corner onto Cooper’s Alley; Ramsey did not appear to see him.

Still he waited, listening, watchful. Mariz joined him on the landing.

“We should not have let him go.”

Ethan leaned his arms on the wooden railing and took several slow, deep breaths. There was little left of his shirt and waistcoat save charred tatters, and the cool night air felt good on his burns and his blistered arm. The bruises on his back and shoulders throbbed. “Killing him might have been easier. It’s what he would have done in my position. But I was hired to protect the souls he has bound to his service, to win their freedom if I can. Reverend Caner might not understand that he hired me to do this, but he did. I can’t kill him yet.” He glanced at Mariz, offering a wan smile. “I don’t suppose Sephira would have handled things this way.”

“Not at all. She would have killed him without hesitation. He continues to destroy the goods of merchants she is paid to protect. There were two more incidents today. Not fires this time; instead spells that ground items to dust. The
senhora
wants him dead. I do not want her to know that you and I have met without her knowledge. I do not want her to know that I was here. Otherwise, I would have killed him despite your wishes.”

Ethan shrugged, and glanced toward his doorway. The shade of Nathaniel Ramsey stood on the threshold, with Reg at his shoulder, watching the ghost’s every move.

“Before this is over, it may come to that,” Ethan said. “But I wasn’t ready to make such a choice tonight.”

“The
senhora
would say that you have delayed what is inevitable, and you have put other lives at risk. It is a dangerous choice.”

Ethan could think of nothing to say. Mariz was right: Sephira would see the matter just that way. He wondered if his refusal to do so was a weakness. Sephira would have said it was; so might Ramsey, though it was his life Ethan had spared.

“You need healing,” Mariz said.

“How did you know to come?” Ethan asked, ignoring his comment for the moment.

“I sensed the spells—his and yours. The more I felt, the more concerned I grew.”

“I’m grateful to you.”

Mariz inclined his head, acknowledging Ethan’s thanks. “Your injuries?”

“The burns are the worst of it. But I can heal myself.”

“You may have to. I do not know if my spells will work. But allow me to try.”

Mariz cut himself, put blood on Ethan’s burns, and cast a healing spell. The first conjuring failed, but not the second, and for several minutes Mariz and Ethan did not speak.

Another spell thrummed, and an image of Ramsey materialized before them, hanging in midair. “I’m on the
Muirenn
, Kaille,” the vision said. “Release him.”

Ethan nodded. To the two ghosts—Reg and the elder Ramsey—he said, “
Dimitto vos ambos
.” I release you both. He watched the old captain, but the shade refused to return his gaze, even as he faded into the night.

Mariz finished the healing conjuring a short while after. He removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“My thanks,” Ethan said. “I assume that this squares things between us.”

“Squares things?” Mariz repeated with a frown. He replaced his spectacles.

“Makes us even. I saved your life last year, you saved mine tonight. You don’t owe me your friendship anymore.”

Mariz chuckled and shook his head. “Your mind works strangely, Kaille. Friendship is not owed, it is given. That is something that the
senhora
would have said. I thought you and she were most dissimilar; perhaps I was mistaken, and you are more alike than you seem.”

That stung.

“No,” Ethan said, “we’re not. Forgive me. It’s been a long and difficult night. I’m grateful to you, and I would like very much to go on being your friend.”

“Then you shall.” Mariz sheathed his knife. “But you are right: It has been a long night, and the
senhora
expects me to be at her home early in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night, Mariz. Again, I’m grateful to you.”

The man flashed a quick grin and descended the stairs. As the click of his boots on the cobblestone street receded, Ethan heard someone else call his name.

“Henry,” Ethan said under his breath. He went back into his room, threw on a shirt—one that was whole—and buttoned it as he hurried down the stairs.

Henry lived in a small, one-room house behind the cooperage. He stood in his doorway, peering out into the night and holding a candle in one hand and a hammer in the other. Shelly stood next to him, her ears pricked up. When she saw Ethan, she wagged her tail and bounded forward.

The cooper wore a loose nightshirt, and his hair stuck up at odd angles. Ethan assumed he had been asleep and would want an explanation. Ethan wasn’t sure what to tell him. He prided himself on being a good tenant; he usually paid his rent on time, he took good care of his room, and for the most part he made little noise. But he had been late with June’s rent, and tonight he had not only wakened Henry from a sound sleep, he had also broken his door and window. It didn’t matter that Ramsey was responsible for the actual damage; it was Ethan’s fault. And on top of everything else, he needed to explain what had happened without revealing to the cooper that he was a conjurer.

“I’m sorry to have woken you, Henry,” Ethan said, scratching Shelly behind the ears, not yet able to look the man in the eye.

“I’m not worried about that. Are you all right?”

Ethan stood and walked to where the cooper waited. “Aye, thank you. I’m fine.”

“It didn’t thound very good,” Henry said, lisping. He stared up at the broken window. “It sounded like a fight.”

“I’ll pay you for the window, Henry. And for the other damage, too.”

“What other damage?”

Ethan glanced down at Shelly, who had followed him and was nudging his hand with her snout. “The door is broken.”

The cooper’s eyebrows went up. “I put that door on there myself. It was solid. That must have been some strong magicking.”

Ethan was sure that his jaw dropped to the ground. He gaped at Henry, eyes so wide they hurt. The cooper couldn’t have surprised him more if he had cast a spell of his own. It occurred to him that Henry could have seen that floating image of Ramsey from this vantage point.

“Aye, it was,” Ethan said, trying to mask his astonishment. “This inquiry I’m working on now—there’s a … a witch who’s causing all sorts of mischief. As their kind always do.”

Henry chuckled at that, exposing the gap in his teeth. “‘As their kind do’? Come now, Ethan. I might not be as smart as some folk, but I’m not a fool.”

Ethan stared at him for another moment before starting to laugh himself. “No, Henry. You’re not a fool at all. You might be the smartest man I’ve ever met.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “How long have you known?”

“That you’re a speller?” He said it like “thpeller” and Ethan laughed again. “Oh, I guess I’ve known for six or seven years now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

The cooper shrugged. “It wasn’t any of my business. And you always were trying to hide it from me, so I figured you were ashamed of it or something.”

“No. I was afraid you wouldn’t approve. A lot of people think conjurers are witches, and I figured you wouldn’t want me living here if you knew the truth.”

“You’re welcome to live here as long as you want, Ethan. I don’t care about the rest. I always figured it would be handy to have a speller around. I would have asked you to do stuff for me, if I hadn’t been sure that it would make you feel bad.”