“HiEthan,” the burly barkeep said, running the words together as always.
“Hi, Kelf.”
“Kannice’s in back. Wan’ me t’ get her?”
“Actually, no.” Ethan felt around in his pocket for a pair of shillings and handed them to the man. “She didn’t let me pay a couple of nights ago, and she won’t tonight, either. So this is just between the two of us, all right?”
“Course. What’ll ya have?”
“What’s the stew tonight?” Immediately he raised his good hand, forestalling an answer. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll have a bowl and an ale.”
“I’ll bring it t’ ya.”
“My thanks, Kelf.” Ethan walked to the back of the tavern, winding his way past the usual crowd. Diver wasn’t there, so he sat alone, as he often did, at an empty table far from the door.
A few moments later, Kannice arrived at his table with a bowl of mutton stew and a tankard of pale ale. She placed them in front of him and kissed the top of his head.
“I’m glad to see you,” she said, hovering behind him.
He took hold of her hands and kissed them both. “And I you.”
“I hate to…” She faltered. Ethan twisted around in his chair to look at her, taking care not to let her see his newest bruise. She still stood behind him, chewing her lip. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I know things have been hard for you the past few days. But I can’t… well… I need you to pay for the food and drink. I hope you understand.”
Ethan hesitated, but only for a moment. She had given him more free food than he cared to remember. He could afford to pay twice this one night. “Of course, I understand,” he said. He dug into his pocket again, searching for another coin.
Kannice stared down at him, an odd expression on her face, as if… He stopped searching for the coin just as she burst out laughing.
“You would have paid me again, wouldn’t you?” she said breathlessly.
Ethan looked back at Kelf, who grinned at him from behind the bar. Ethan leveled a finger at him and the man threw back his head and laughed.
“He promised me he would keep that quiet,” Ethan said as Kannice sat down across from him.
“Kelf works for me, not for you. Besides, I saw him putting the coins in the till and…” She trailed off, her smile vanishing as she noticed the welt on his head. “What’s happened now?”
“Sephira and her men.”
“They beat you again?” Her eyes fell to his shoulder. “And is that blood on your coat?”
He nodded.
“A knife?”
“A bullet, actually.”
“A bullet!” she repeated, so loudly that others paused in their conversations.
“It just grazed me,” he said, speaking softly.
“Does it hurt?”
“Some.” A lot, actually. “I’ve seen a doctor. I’m fine.”
She frowned. “Is that right?”
He held her gaze. “Aye.”
“All right, then let’s go back to Sephira for a minute. She’s not content with beatings and threats anymore?”
“No, I think she intended to kill me this time, but I got away with help from a minister and Sheriff Greenleaf.” He smiled self-consciously. “That sounds a little strange, doesn’t it?”
She blinked. After several moments, she shook her head, allowing herself a small, breathless laugh. “The crazy thing is I believe you.”
“Well, I should hope so.”
“And I should hope that after all this you would give up your inquiry and keep yourself alive. But that’s probably too much to ask, isn’t it?”
“Do I even have to answer that?”
She took a breath, her blue eyes never leaving his. “No,” she finally said. “So then why don’t you tell me what you know so far?”
He smiled and she took his hand. He began to tell her what he had learned from Janna and Pell about killing spells and the death of the boy. He also told her about his conversations with Hutchinson and Derne, and with Adams and his friends.
“This conjurer is really that strong?” she asked when he was done.
“Do you remember Nate Ramsey, the speller who escaped me a couple of years ago?”
Kannice nodded.
“This man makes Ramsey seem weak.”
She took a long breath, her cheeks blanching. But her voice remained steady as she said, “And now you think he’s used the lives of this boy and Jennifer Berson to cast his spells.”
“He may have used a third person, too. I’m not sure. And they’re not just any spells. They’re control spells. I think he’s using the deaths to get others to do his bidding.”
“Do you think that he’s using them for whatever he needs done at the time, or do you think there’s a larger purpose behind the murders and the spells?”
Ethan considered this. It was a fine question, one he himself hadn’t thought to ask. Kannice did this for him: She forced him to see things differently. Talking to her about his jobs was often like playing a game of chess and in the middle of it, rotating the board and looking at the pieces from his opponent’s perspective.
“I think they are connected,” Ethan finally said. “I couldn’t tell you how, though, or even why I think so. I’ve been trying to put myself in this conjurer’s mind, but I can’t get myself to think as he does.”
“I would have been surprised if you could.” She gave his hand a squeeze and got up from the table. “Eat. I’ll come by again later.”
“Hey, wait,” he said, stopping her. “Did Diver say if he would be coming by tonight?”
“Do you mean when he was here last night?”
“No, today. This afternoon.”
“He wasn’t here today.”
“Well, of course-” He stopped, narrowing his eyes. He hadn’t actually seen Diver enter the Dowser; they hadn’t reached it yet. And Diver told him at the time he hadn’t intended to come to the tavern at all. Still, his friend had acted strangely throughout their encounter.
“Are you worried about him?” Kannice asked.
“This is Diver we’re talking about. I’m always worried about him. But I’m sure it’s nothing.”
She went back to the kitchen, and Ethan finished his ale and bowl of stew. Kelf brought him seconds of both, and Ethan finished these as well, sopping up the last of the stew with an end of fresh bread.
As he ate, he considered what Ebenezer Mackintosh might gain by committing these murders and making enemies of men on both sides of the Stamp Act conflict. So many believed that Mackintosh was guilty; perhaps it was time that Ethan spoke with the Commander of the South End, not only to hear what Mackintosh might say in his own defense, but also to see if he could determine whether the man was a conjurer. He was still pondering this sometime later when Kannice joined him at his table.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
“I am, thank you.”
She stared at her hands. “Are you going to stay?”
“I’d like to,” he said. “But I shouldn’t. Not while this conjurer is after me.”
“You’re here now.”
“Yes, now, when the tavern’s crowded with people. But staying the night could be dangerous.” He brushed the hair from her forehead. “If something happened to you because of what I’m doing…” He shook his head. “I probably shouldn’t stay until all this is over.”
“Wouldn’t you be safer here?” she asked. “Sephira and her toughs beat you in your home. You said the conjurer found you in the lane not far from Henry’s shop. They know where you live.”
