Fallen Grace (The Death Dealer Book 1) (14 page)

“If you refer to my philosophy regarding poor children, no one should be unable to feed their children because of a lack of coin.”

“
I agree, and I see we have a common goal.” The Death Dealer’s soft voice dropped even lower. “We both want the people of Cesernan taken care of, so I propose an alliance. I certainly could never take you down, but people love a hero and that’s what I am. If you killed me, it would only hurt your reputation as a good thief. I know you usurped the previous king for your crown, and I also know of your fund for the survival of widows; a most honorable venture. However, I can see to it that someone takes your crown if you deviate from your current path.”

“
You’re threatening me?”

“
I am simply keeping you mindful of what has happened to other leaders in the Thieves’ Guild. But if you keep to the role of honest thief and take care of your own, I will be ever vigilant to stop any who come to take your title.”

“
How do you propose something like that? You can’t be everywhere at once.”

“
No, and even my extra sets of eyes have limits. But what I do unearth, I can stalk and see to it that they never reach you or your throne.”

Marcus put his hands on his hips. “You are making quite an assumption, here.” The Death Dealer waited for an elaboration. “You think I want your help; that I need your help. You are sneaky, that is clear, but you are not invincible. What makes you so sure I won’t have you killed?”

“As I said, many of your thieves think I am powerful enough and respectable enough. I could be a valuable ally while I am here in Glenbard. I can clear out rogue thieves and murderers outside the city, saving you time and energy. Together, the people will view us both as heroes.”

“
I need a sign I can trust you.”

The Death Dealer took up the sword from the altar. He pointed to Marcus’s dagger, which was tucked within his boot. “A blood oath. A prick on our palms and the mingling of blood. I have heard only terrible stories of those who violate blood oaths.”

Marcus removed his dagger and made a small cut on the palm of his hand. Grace did the same. They clasped hands; sealing their oath. People were always threatening Marcus’s power. While none had yet come with any true force, fighting them all back could be daunting. People were always buzzing about The Death Dealer, and petty criminals nearly wet themselves at the mere mention of his name. That kind of backing could keep some of the trash away from Marcus’s seat of power.

So it was done. Whether Marcus was comfortable allying himself with The Death Dealer or not, it no longer mattered. The two were bound by their own blood. If Marcus failed to withhold his tradition as an honest thief, The Death Dealer would find someone who would. And in return, The Death Dealer would stay out of Guild affairs; letting the thieves do as they needed. Both parties would watch out for one another as best they could and see that no one attempted to destroy the other.

The next day in the tavern was hectic. The talk was all about The Death Dealer’s visit, but Marcus didn’t betray what transpired. Neither did Grace, even when Donald begged to know. For the time being, the nature of the agreement stayed between the King of Thieves and The Death Dealer.

Seven

The next week passed quickly in Glenbard. Grace made friends with many of the thieves in the Guild through Ridley’s intervention. Marcus warmed to Grace, and even let her join his table for the evening meal. Even Donald found his way into the thief King’s favor. Each day as Grace worked hard to impress Mayhew, Donald went about doing odd jobs here and there. Oftentimes, members in the Guild would send him on errands to run fresh bread or fruit to their families or to deliver messages to any ships that were in port. Over dinner, Grace and Ridley encouraged Donald to take a position on a trade ship and sail to the Nareroc Islands, and he continued to say no. Grace knew why, but Ridley only assumed it was because Donald had fallen in love with a merchant's daughter or something of the sort.

During the nights, Grace went out her bedroom window as The Death Dealer and patrolled the streets for trouble. Rumors quickly spread that The Death Dealer had come to Glenbard to become the new King of Thieves. Marcus publicly scoffed at this, but kept his secret about meeting with The Death Dealer. In any case, more and more people went to the temple of Diggery to thank her for protecting them by allying Marcus to The Death Dealer. Ridley began to get delusions of one day meeting The Death Dealer and possibly even marrying him, and Grace never tried to change Ridley’s mind. She would just smile as her friend talked about it.

Although Grace didn’t speak to Jack after the incident in the stable, she saw him every day sulking in his corner. He would come into the stables often enough to take Pilgrim out for exercises, but she never went to say anything and he did likewise to her. Grace never told anyone what he said. Many figured she just hated his negative attitude and didn’t try to convince her otherwise. Donald would talk to him every so often; asking how long he was a stable hand and what he thought of the knights who were there before he left the position.

Things finally seemed to be going right in Grace’s life until one unfortunate night.

Grace often traveled out of Glenbard to hide along the roadside and wait for troublemakers. It was almost always quiet and boring. The Guild kept the people in the city relatively safe, considering most were family members of those in the Guild. Any trouble that started usually took place on the country road leading to Glenbard, so each night Grace walked a mile out of town and spent a few hours patrolling about before returning for sleep.

On this unfortunate night, Grace was watching and waiting. Two men had kidnapped a young girl and were camped not far from the city limits; about a ten minute walk for her. Grace would have struck already but these men were huge, and she suspected they would be too much for her. She would have to wait until one nodded off. That way, she could dispose of the one on guard duty and knock him unconscious before he could raise the alarm.

The bigger of the two finally laid out his blankets and went to sleep. When he started snoring, Grace sneaked up behind his companion. She would have knocked him out successfully, except her shadow gave her away.

“Mac, wake up!” Grace panicked and hit the man over the head with the hilt of her sword. He lay in the dirt, unconscious.

The other man awakened instantly and was obviously angry. “The Death Dealer, huh? Awfully small, aren’t you? And I bet you want to save this girl.” He looked at the girl, whose hands were tied and her mouth gagged. “Well, you failed.” The man pulled a knife and Grace lunged at him, but he was faster. The knife pierced the girl’s heart so quickly, she didn't even have a chance to scream. “It’s just you and me now.”

Grace took a fighting stance, raised her sword, and they circled each other. Grace felt she had an advantage with her sword, but she was very wrong. The man was incredibly fast for someone so big. He jumped at Grace and grabbed her wrist with his free hand, pulled her close, and took one stab at her.

Although she twisted away from him, she wasn’t quick enough to completely miss his knife. Blood dripped freely from her side. Using every bit of strength left in her, she cracked the man upside the head with her sword hilt and staggered away as he lay motionless by the fire.

The world spun around her as the dead man with the broken nose swirled around her mind. The memory of the sound of his nose cracking against her skull rang in her ears. Then she looked at the poor girl, dead and bleeding in the dirt. Grace no longer wanted to witness death. She vomited next to the fire; her throat burning as the bile surged upward.

~*~*~

Grace climbed into Donald’s window and collapsed next to him on his bed. He quickly rose and lit a few candles, and then he saw Grace on her back, bleeding all over his covers.

“
I need to get you some help.” Grace still had The Death Dealer hood on. Her eyes drooped and she moaned slightly.

“
No,” she gasped. “No, there is no one! We cannot let Jim or Ridley or even Marcus know about this.”

Cassandra always had a plan in case Grace was hurt; always had a lie at the ready to tell the healers. Donald had no such plan or lie. He panicked, and as he left the room he said, “I’m going to get someone!”

It was late, and of the few people who still loitered in the common room, they were either the drunks or the ladies trying to get money from them. Donald knew he couldn’t tell Jim. Jim Little was a nice fellow, but he told everyone everything he knew. If he brought Jim to see Grace now he would know her secret, and by the time the sun rose, so would everyone else in Glenbard. Then both Donald and Grace’s safety would be compromised.

Donald entered the common room and saw Jim, as well as a few people he didn’t know. All were filled with ale. Then he spotted Jack in the corner. He knew Grace hated Jack, but there was no time to find someone else. Jack had never told anyone about Grace, so he had to be good at keeping secrets. Plus, he was strong and would be able to help move Grace. Donald hurried over, out of breath as he stood before Jack’s table.

“A little late for knight talk, don’t you think?”

“
Jack, I need your help.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “This is urgent. Please?”

“
Then have Jim help you.”

“
I can’t. Please – there’s no time to get Marcus or Ridley. Just help me, I beg you.”

He had no real desire to help the young man, but Jack met Donald’s eyes and looked at the fear within. He wasn’t entirely sure what could be wrong so late, but he gave in.

“Make this quick, boy.”

~*~*~

Jack opened Donald’s door and saw a figure, clad in black with an executioner’s hood on, lying on the bed. The Death Dealer was wounded and, more importantly, was passed out on Donald’s bed. Jack could barely believe his eyes.

Jack walked over to the bed and sat beside the figure. He gently removed the hood and blonde locks fell out over the pillow. “Grace?” The girl moaned, but had already left the conscious world from blood loss.

Jack removed her jerkin and lifted the black shirt where the wound was. It wasn’t deep and didn’t hit any organs, but it still had the potential to be fatal, especially if they didn’t find a healer. Jack wasn’t going to let that happen. Despite his own feelings toward the girl, he knew it was wrong to just let her die.

He hoped Grace had extra covering on underneath as he ripped the shirt off her. He was relieved to see the girl had bound her chest. He looked closely at the laceration. The best thing to do would be to move Grace to a healing house, and fast.

“Where was she?”

“
She sneaks out of the city. She told me once she doesn’t go further than a mile or so.”

“
She walked a mile?” He continued to inspect the wound. “It’s not deep, but it’s long. The wound itself isn’t fatal, but if she traveled the distance you claim, she’s been bleeding for a while now.”

Taking the ripped shirt, he tied it around the wound to slow the bleeding. Donald remained in the corner, panicking, and was useless to Grace now. Jack removed his jacket, put it on Grace, and then lifted her gently from the bed and carried her to the door.

“Make yourself useful and open the doors for us.”

Donald did as he was told and opened the door so Jack could get out. He followed Jack and opened any other doors that presented a problem.

~*~*~

Jack brought Grace to the temple of Kamaria. The only indication they were in the house of the goddess was the silver crescent moon that hung above the door. When Grace awakened, she saw that she was in the back room where the priestesses prepared for the ceremonies to the moon goddess. Jack watched her with interest from the corner. As Grace sat up, she winced and gritted her teeth.

Jack could tell she was confused and didn’t blame her. She had woken up in a strange room with strange clothes on. Taking a deep breath, she winced again.

“
The wound was not fatal. Though it could have been if Donald had listened to you. The priestesses had to stitch you up.”

Grace’s eyes met Jack’s hazel ones. He leaned on the back wall and watched her carefully. “You?
You’re
the help Donald found?”

“
I am afraid so.”

“
I suppose I should thank you, then.”

“
You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know you’re still angry with me.”

“
But you probably just saved my life.” She suddenly blushed and quickly pulled the jacket closed around her body; noticing that her shirt had been cut away.

Jack rolled his eyes. “The healers cut your bindings, so your modesty is still intact. I didn’t see anything. And you don’t need to repay me or thank me. I just did what most would have done.”

Grace's face contorted and her eyes widened as though she just remembered something important.
What could he have said to explain the gash?

Jack took a guess at her thoughts and smiled at her for the first time. “The healers here have taken a vow of silence and speak only when the moon is at her fullest. But they seemed to care little for what you did. They cared more for the safety of a fellow human. So your little secret is safe.”