A Plunder of Souls (The Thieftaker Chronicles) (28 page)

The pulse of power was like the pealing of some great bell. It shook the house; Ethan felt the hum of it in his chest, and knew that Ramsey would feel it as well.

“Let him,” Ethan muttered.

He looked to Reg for some sign that the casting had worked, and inhaled sharply. Patience had come. She stood beside the old warrior, still glowing with that same greenish color. She didn’t appear to be angry, as Ethan had feared she might. But her expression was grim, her eyes bright and fixed on him.

“Forgive me,” he said to the shade. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you without cause.” He glanced at Reg. “Does she understand me?”

The warrior nodded once more.

Ethan started to tell her of the burying ground desecrations and the number of shades already haunting homes throughout the city, but he hadn’t gotten far before the shade raised a hand to stop him and nodded.

“She knows already?” Ethan asked Reg.

Another nod.
Yes.

Ethan wasn’t sure whether to be alarmed or reassured. “The man responsible is a conjurer named Ramsey. He and I share some history, and without meaning to, I let him know that you died recently, and that you were a conjurer. I’m afraid … I think he means to disturb your grave and add you to his legion of shades. I’m so sorry, Patience. It was careless of me.”

She shook her head: a gesture of absolution.

“I want to know if there is some way you can protect yourself, to keep him from controlling you.”

It took a moment for his words to reach her; it seemed he was speaking to her across a great distance. But at last the shade frowned, and gave a small shrug that was so like the shrugs Patience gave in life it brought a smile to Ethan’s lips.

“I miss you, Patience.”

A pause, and a smile in return.

“I believe it’s the symbol that he cuts into the cadavers that gives him control over the shades,” Ethan said. “But I don’t know how it works, or what kind of conjuring to use to overcome his power.”

He shook his head, realizing that this wasn’t doing any good, and that he had disturbed the shade of his friend for no reason. But his thoughts were churning. When he spoke of the symbol with Ramsey, the captain had tapped a finger on his temple and said, “It’s one of my own.”

Could that mean the symbol itself had no inherent power, that its potency lay in whatever meaning Ramsey assigned to it? If so, that meant that no countermanding symbol existed. No doubt that was why Ramsey had chosen a rune of his own design. Ethan felt himself sag. He still didn’t know what the captain sought to accomplish, but already he sensed that there was nothing he could do to stop him. Ignorance and helplessness: they made for a demoralizing combination.

“I’m sorry, Patience,” he said to the shade. “I wanted you to know that Ramsey would be coming for you, and I thought you should know that it’s my fault. I’ll do everything I can to stop him.” He started to say more, but stopped himself, realizing he had nothing else to offer her. He would do his best, but he wondered if she knew as he did how woefully inadequate his best might prove to be.

She nodded to him again. If she was afraid, she didn’t show it.

“Thank you,” Ethan said to Reg. “
Dimitto vos ambos.
” I release you both.

Both ghosts faded, melting into the daylight that lit the room. Ethan returned to the common room, his legs heavy. He felt a pulse of power, followed by a second. Both of them seemed to come from the waterfront.

“Did she come to you?” Ruth asked.

“Aye. I’m not sure it did much good. But I spoke to her.” He searched for the right words.

More spells made the house tremble, though of course Ruth showed no sign of feeling anything. A part of him was desperate to be away, to learn what Ramsey had done now. But even if he learned all there was to know, he probably couldn’t stop the man, and saving Patience from his control was more important than fighting another losing battle.

“Ruth, I don’t know how to stop this conjurer. But I’m certain he intends to desecrate Patience’s grave, and I want to prevent that, even if it means…” He shook his head, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say.

“Darcy and I both trust you, Ethan, just as Mother did. We know that you would never do anything to harm her. So, do what you must.”

“Thank you.”

He bade her good day, and left the house, walking back toward the burying ground, though with little urgency. Ramsey could conceal himself with a spell, but he couldn’t violate the gravesite in the middle of the day without drawing notice. He would wait until nightfall, which gave Ethan a few hours. To do what?

With what Ruth had just said to him, he had permission to remove Patience’s body from its grave. He could hide her somewhere, make it impossible for Ramsey to mutilate the corpse. He thought that by now he ran little risk of contracting the illness that had killed her, though he couldn’t be certain. But he could not allow her to fall under Ramsey’s thrall. It was a daunting notion, but he had few other options. And he knew just the person to help him.

Diver lived on Pudding Lane, in the middle of Cornhill. The street had been renamed Devonshire, but Ethan still referred to it by its old name, as did most people he knew. Diver’s room sat above a bakery in a brick building constructed after the great fire of 1760, when much of Cornhill was destroyed.

These days, when not working, his friend spent most of his time at Deborah’s room on Pierce’s Alley, which was also in Cornhill. But after the argument Ethan had witnessed in the Dowser a few nights before, he expected that he would find Diver on Pudding Lane.

He was right.

His friend appeared somewhat disappointed when he opened the door and saw him standing on the landing. He looked past Ethan down the stairs and along the length of the lane.

“Expecting someone else?” Ethan asked.

Diver ran a hand through his black curls. Ethan wasn’t sure he had ever seen Diver look more morose, not even on the many occasions when his schemes to make a bit of coin failed.

“I haven’t talked to her since that night in the Dowser,” he said. “I’ve been by her place, and she’s never there. I even left her a note.” He gazed down at the lane again. “I think she’s gone.”

“She’s not gone, Diver. She’s angry with you, and she’s making certain that you know it. Elli once did the same thing to me.”

“That’s supposed to cheer me up?”

“Aye. This was early on, long before the
Ruby Blade
. She forgave me eventually.”

“Really?” Diver asked.

“Really. You just have to be patient, and when finally she deigns to speak to you again, you have to apologize and tell her that it was all your fault.”

“But I’m not sure it was. All I did was tell her that I—”

“Diver, do you want to be right, or do you want her back?”

He weighed the choice for all of two seconds. “I see your point.”

“Good,” Ethan said. “Let me in. We have other things to discuss.”

Diver stepped aside and Ethan walked into the room.

“Close the door,” he said.

Diver closed it and dropped himself into a chair. If any man in Boston could be cheered up by robbing a grave, it was Ethan’s friend.

“I need your help,” Ethan said. “I have to do something that’s neither legal nor pleasant, and I can’t do it alone.”

A smile stole over Diver’s face. “How much are you getting paid?”

“Nothing at all. I’m doing it for the congregation of King’s Chapel.”

Diver raised an eyebrow. “So it’s illegal, it’s unpleasant,
and
there’s no money in it for either of us.”

“Right. Will you help me?”

“I can hardly refuse. What will we be doing?”

“Digging up a grave, removing the body, and finding a place to hide it.”

His friend blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Aye.”

“You’re mad. You can’t walk into a burying ground, dig up a grave, and pull up the corpse. Even I’m not that much a fool.”

Ethan considered this. “You’re right. We’ll need help from someone else, as well.” He walked back to the door and pulled it open. “Come along then.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”

“I’ll tell you, Diver. I swear it. But we have to get this done before sundown, so I need to explain as we walk.”

Still Diver sat, eyeing him. At last he pushed himself up out of the chair. “I must be mad, too.”

Ethan grinned.

They walked south to Water Street and turned right toward Marlborough. As they walked, Ethan explained to Diver all that had happened in the past several days: the grave desecrations, the appearance of the shades, and his encounters with Ramsey. Diver remembered little of Ethan’s last encounter with the captain, and so he had to describe those events as well. He hadn’t yet finished when they reached King’s Chapel.

“What are we doing here?” Diver asked, gazing up at the stark façade of the sanctuary.

“As you said, we can’t walk into a burying ground and simply dig up a grave. Not alone, anyway. But if we have a minister with us, looking on, making it seem that we’re doing the Lord’s work, no one will give it a second thought.”

“Your friend,” Diver said, smiling. “Pell.”

“Aye, Pell. Why don’t you wait out here?”

Ethan entered the churchyard and the chapel itself. Caner stood at the pulpit. Hearing the door open, he looked up from the great Bible on its wooden stand, marking his place with a finger.

“Who is that?” he asked, squinting.

“Ethan Kaille, reverend sir.”

“Mister Kaille!” Caner said. Ethan thought that the rector had never sounded so pleased to see him. “Do you have tidings for us?”

“None that are good, reverend sir, and nothing that’s certain. I came to ask if I might borrow Mister Pell for a short while. I require his help.”

“May I ask what for?” Caner had stepped down from the pulpit and was walking toward Ethan.

“I think it best that I tell you as little as possible.”

“And I would prefer to keep Trevor out of harm’s way. I’m afraid I must refuse to let him go with you.”

“Reverend, sir, please understand. I am trying to prevent the desecration of more graves, and the mutilation of more corpses.”

“Here at our chapel?”

Ethan hesitated. “No. The body in question is buried elsewhere. But surely you wouldn’t wish such foul trespass on any soul, regardless of where the unfortunate lies.”

Caner’s mouth turned down, but he said, “He’s outside with the sexton.”

“Thank you, Reverend, sir. I’ll do my utmost to keep him safe.”

“See that you do.”

Ethan left the sanctuary before the rector could change his mind, and went around to the back of the chapel. There he found Pell standing over Mr. Thomson, who was working in one of the disturbed graves.

“Ethan!” Pell said upon spotting him. “Do you bring news?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve come because I need your help.”

Pell quirked an eyebrow. “Even better.”

“You might be less enthusiastic when you hear what I require of you. Mister Thomson,” he said to the sexton, “might we borrow a pair of spades?”

“Spades? What for?” He didn’t wait for Ethan to reply. “Never mind. I don’t care to know. Take this one.” He handed Ethan the spade he had been using, and climbed out of the grave. “Mister Pell, you know where the other one is kept. Bring them back when you’re done.”

“My thanks,” Ethan said.

Pell led Ethan to a small hut set back in the farthest recesses of the churchyard. There they found the other spade.

“What is this about, Ethan?”

“We need to dig up a cadaver in order to keep the body from being mutilated.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain along the way.”

They walked around to the front of the chapel, where Diver still waited for them.

“Don’t we need a third spade?” Pell asked.

“You won’t be digging,” Ethan said. “You’ll be standing by the gravesite, making it seem that we’re not doing anything wrong.”

A faint smile curved Pell’s lips. “I see.”

Diver and Pell greeted each other—they had met before on a few occasions—and the three of them marched through the city streets to the Common Burying Ground, and the grave of Patience Walters.

“She was a conjurer?” Pell asked, as they stood over the grave.

Diver toed the fresh dirt, looking pale.

“Aye,” Ethan said. “I don’t know what Ramsey has in mind, but I’m certain that I don’t want him having control over the shade of a spellmaker.”

Pell glanced at the sun, which was already sinking toward the western horizon. “Then I’d suggest you start digging.”

Ethan shared a look with Diver, hoping that it would reassure his friend. They both began to dig.

The air was warm, and what little breeze there was helped not at all. Within a few minutes, Ethan’s hands began to burn. He knew he would have blisters before long; it had been too many years since he had toiled in this way. But despite all this, he felt good. At last he was doing something that Ramsey could neither anticipate nor prevent.

A few people walked past as they worked, but having Pell with them served its purpose. No one questioned them.

Ethan paused to remove his waistcoat and resumed his labors. His shirt was soaked through, as was Diver’s. By the time Diver’s spade struck wood, Ethan was breathing hard. He could almost hear Kannice telling him that he was too old for this sort of thing.

They cleared the dirt away from the coffin and paused to rest. Diver leaned both his arms on the handle of his spade. Ethan gazed down at the coffin, sweat dripping from his brow. The faint stench of rot surrounded them, not yet overpowering, but promising to be once they disturbed the coffin.

“Now what?” Diver asked, wrinkling his nose. “Do you want to take the coffin, or leave it and just take her body?”

“I don’t like the idea of carrying a dead body through the city streets,” Pell said. “Especially one that smells as badly as this one. Even I can’t protect you from the sort of attention that would draw.”

“I could conceal the body with a spell,” Ethan said. “And me along with it. I might even be able to mask the smell. No one would know we had it. Not that I relish the idea, but leaving the empty coffin here for Ramsey to find does have some appeal.”