Grace of the Goddess (The Death Dealer Book 3) (7 page)

Four

              “Lord Gregory isn’t who I think should fill the seat of chief magistrate,” Ridley proclaimed. She plopped down into a seat across from Jack. Her hood was drawn up to cover her face, but he suspected enough of the guards who drank at the King’s Beard knew who his dinner guest was.

              “Well, perhaps you ought to notify His Majesty of his folly. Tell me – who would you put in the position? There aren’t many lining up to take Brayden’s place.” Jack sipped his ale. His meager dinner of mealy apple slices and goat cheese didn’t look too appetizing at the moment.

              “He should give it to a commoner. None of these lords know how it works for us.” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. Underneath the hood, Jack saw her pouting with her lower lip stuck out.

              “A fifth is needed. And who knows? Maybe the king’s personal guard will be waiting for you tonight to bestow the honor to you.”

              “Your wit astounds me,” she said, curling her lip.

              Jack pushed his plate across the table for Ridley to take some. She picked up a piece of cheese and ate it. The tavern was quiet for the dinner hour. A few other off-duty guards enjoyed their meals and a few gamblers threw dice in the corner, but there was no fiddle player or the loud laughter that normally filled the King’s Beard. Jack frowned into his ale. He missed the Angel Tavern. It was still lively when other places were falling silent.

              “Any more news?” Ridley asked as she swallowed the bit of cheese.

              “Only suspicions. They’ve locked away a skulking character. He was found around Golden Road with a bloodstained dagger and a black hood.”

“And?” Ridley leaned forward.

“He confessed easily enough to murder, but only to the murder of his wife and her lover. He’s too stupid to be a hired assassin, but he may make the perfect scapegoat.” Jack shrugged. 

“Poor sod.”

“He’ll meet a traitor’s end for it, I’m sure. Lord Gregory wants people to think the murderer was caught. I think he believes that giving them this man will make them forget the poor harvest and rising prices.”

Ridley rose from her seat and grabbed another piece of cheese. “Thank you for the information.”

“Be safe, Ridley.”

She gave him a warm smile before departing. Jack finished his meal in silence. A few of his guard mates asked him to gamble with them, but he declined, feigning tiredness.

The air outside the King’s Beard was cold, too cold for this time of year. His breath hung like a little white cloud before him. Jack buttoned his long jacket and moved on toward home. The city, like the tavern, was too quiet. The people were anxious about the duke’s murder and about a hungry winter, and he couldn’t blame them. There had been a few whispers at the guard house about arrests for treason. Duke Nicholas of Actis had even been arrested and sent to the Nareroc Islands for it. There were suspicions and rumors that King Frederick planned to make some sort of offensive over the islands in the spring, and everyone knew that an armed conflict would be disastrous for the country.

“Someone help!” a woman screamed from the alley to Jack’s right.

He looked and could make out two figures scuffling in the dark. He removed his baton from his belt and ran for the alley, ready for a fight.

A large man had a woman of middling height by the hair. Jack could smell the whiskey on him as soon as he moved into the alley. He came up fast and gave the man a solid smack on the back of the head. The man went down, pulling the woman with him.

She whimpered and tried to push his inert body away as they lay on the frozen ground. Jack heaved the man off the woman and helped her to her feet.

“Any damage, miss?” he asked, brushing her off.

In the dark he saw the glint of her teeth. “I’m fine, but you may want to see a healer about the bump on your head.” She disarmed Jack in a heartbeat and swung at his head, moving like lightning. The world flashed white and the woman forced a tangy tasting liquid into his mouth, forcing him to swallow it. Jack sputtered and the liquid spilled down his chin. The world swirled around him as he fell into a heap on the ground.

~*~*~

Someone splashed cold water over Jack and he sat up, gasping for air. His head pounded. Someone had dragged him into a little room with a dirt floor, though with the considerable amount of water thrown at him, it was now a mud floor. When he tried to move he found his ankle tied to a table. In the corner opposite him there was a table that held a clay tankard and a wooden bowl. The window over the table was shuttered, but a few rays of sunlight managed to find their way through the cracks. Otherwise the only light came from a torch in the wall. The woman who clubbed and drugged him stood over him holding a bucket. She was in her late twenties, with a freckled face and strawberry blonde hair. Her clothes were ill-fitting, hanging off her like sacks. He recognized her now.

“Fair Mary,” he grumbled, rubbing his head. “Did Marcus have you bring me in?” He was furious with himself for letting Mary get the drop on him in the alley. If he had to guess, the man “attacking” her was probably her husband, Sly Stephen. They were a notorious pair throughout the city, known for drawing people into their traps.

“I don't bow to that man anymore, Master Anders.” She set the bucket on the table. “A man offered me gold to get you. It was enough gold that Stephen and I can quit the Thieves' Guild. Maybe even make an honest start somewhere.” She frowned and threw a blanket at Jack. “Nothing personal, you know, though you did give Stephen a nasty bump.”

Jack wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. The little room was cold and the water gave him a chill. “Who is this man?”

“Don’t know. Rich, though. I didn't really ask, but he'll be here soon.” Mary looked guilty as she stared at Jack. “You’re not a bad sort, Jack. I hope he doesn’t want to kill you.”

Jack didn’t think Mary meant to be funny, but he laughed anyway. He couldn’t blame her for taking gold in exchange for his life. Times were always hard for folks on Rogue’s Lane, and they were only getting harder.

She frowned at his laugh. “Don’t go laughin’. I mean it.”

“If you really meant it, you wouldn’t have clubbed me in the alley. If it’s forgiveness you want, ask the gods. You won’t get it from me.” He shifted positions so he was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him. The movement caused pain to shoot through his head.

“Well there’s no need to be salty,” she said.

Jack rubbed his head. It was only a dull ache when he didn’t move too much, but he felt a bump forming just above the temple on the right side. “Tell me about this man.”

“Not much to tell. He approached me and offered me gold. He was dressed well enough and had a big bushy beard and curly hair, mostly gray, but there was still a bit of brown left. Didn’t say much. Asked if I knew you and then gave me some coin.”

“And how much coin is my life worth to you, Mary?” Jack looked up at her.

“Ten gold pieces.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. Mary and Stephen could live for years on that much. Who would pay so much for him?

There was a knock at the door and Mary looked at Jack, biting her lower lip. “Hope it all works out for you, Jack.” She sauntered over to the door.

Upon opening it, a tall man came in with his cloak’s hood pulled up to cover his face. Jack saw the shine of gold in his hand. He pressed it into Mary’s. “That’ll be all, woman.”

Jack’s entire body went rigid at the sound of the man’s voice. He knew it all too well, and had no trouble believing he paid ten gold nobles for Jack. Mary waved good-bye to Jack and flitted out the door. The man closed it behind her and removed his cloak.

Age had not been kind to the man. His face was wrinkled like a leather pouch and his hair was grayer than it was the last time Jack spoke to him. He wore brown trousers and a green shirt. They were clothes below his station, but he must have wanted to blend in easier. The complete lack of dirt and muck on his clothes still indicated he was not a man who belonged in the dregs of Glenbard.

“Jonathan. I trust that little trollop did not hit you too hard.” His voice was rough and gravelly, and it grated on Jack’s ears. He glared down at Jack; his little eyes, so dark they were almost black, filled with malice.

“Ten gold pieces, eh? That’s my ransom these days? And here I thought you didn’t care.” Sarcasm was his only defense against those eyes. “Your money could have been better spent, I think.”

“It was not
my
money that bought your capture. As though I would spend even a copper on you. No, no. Someone else wants to speak with you, and I am merely here to transport you.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Robby, where ever are we going?”

“Don’t call me that, boy.”

“As you like it. Where ever are we going, Father?”

~*~*~

              Ridley bit her thumb nail. She’d about gnawed down to the nail bed and still was no closer to going up to the Rogue’s Lane guardhouse. There had been no word of Jack since their dinner at the Beard. When one full day passed, she thought nothing of it, but it had been almost two days and he was still nowhere to be found. She was loathe to see Captain Moore, but thieves didn’t bother keeping track of constables like Jack. Moore might know something, though.

              She smoothed down her skirts and marched across the street to the guardhouse with bravado, went inside, and banged her fist on the clerk’s desk. “I need to speak with the captain,” she demanded.

              The pig-faced man just blinked at her. “No.”

              “This is an important matter and I will
not
leave until I see him!”

              The clerk looked back down at his work. “Suit yourself. I’ll just call someone to throw you into the lock-up. It’ll help cool your heels.”

              Ridley saw the man smirk into his work and she wanted to reach across his desk and slap it right off his face. “Captain Moore!” she screamed.

              The clerk’s head shot up and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it hard. For a man who spent his days bent over stacks of paper, he was surprisingly strong. Ridley’s mouth dropped open in a noiseless scream. His fingers dug into her wrist’s tendons.

              “Ciro bless us!” Captain Moore clattered down the stairs from his upstairs office. “Let her go!”

              The clerk released Ridley and went right back to his work, acting as though nothing had happened. Ridley rubbed feeling back into her wrist, glaring daggers at him.

              “Ridley, to what do I owe this visit?” Moore snaked an arm around her shoulders and ushered her back to the door. He opened it with his free hand and they moved outside.

              “Jack Anders is gone.”

              “Gone?” Moore leaned up against the side of the guardhouse. A cool breeze picked up and his hair blew about. “Are you sure he didn’t just run off to Arganis?” He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it.

              Ridley snorted. “You can sit and be hurt that your courtin’ couldn’t convince Grace to stop loving Jack, or you can take me seriously. Jack and I have been meeting every night to talk, and I didn’t see him last night. Then this morning, his landlord said he hasn’t been home for two nights.”

              At this, Moore frowned. “What does your father have to say about it?”

              “If you think Marcus kidnapped Jack, you better watch your tongue or I’ll bring it home as a trophy.” Ridley felt her face get hot with anger. She knew coming to see Captain Moore was a mistake. She touched her hands to her cheeks, letting her frozen fingers cool them. “Marcus wouldn’t dare kidnap a guard, much less one he knows so well,” she said through clenched teeth.

              “Fine, he wouldn’t pluck Anders off the street, but does he know who might?” Moore pushed himself away from the wall and paced a circle around Ridley. He kept his hands locked behind his back and his head down.

              “What are you doing? You’re circling me like a tom cat. Stop.”

              “Shh, I’m thinking.”

Ridley watched him circle her. His face was scrunched, causing wrinkles to form around his eyes and mouth. He mouthed words she couldn’t hear.

“Serenity Place guardhouse hasn’t officially reported Anders as missing, but I’ve heard other people say Jack hasn’t been seen. It was assumed he went to be with Grace, I think.” Moore stopped his pacing to take stock of Ridley. “But you’re sure he wouldn’t?”

Ridley shook her head. “He won’t go to her until she calls for him to come. And he’d tell me, I’m sure of it. I think something happened to him.”

“We can’t be sure of that, but let me get some men on it. Have
you
alerted the Serenity Place guardhouse? That is where he reports.”

Ridley clenched her hands into fists and put them on her hips. “I know very well where he reports to.”

“Then why did you come to me?”

“’Cause I know you, for all that you’re trying to ruin my family and friends, and I know I can trust you not to be bribed out of finding the truth.” Her disgust for Moore aside, he was a good captain. He’d not ignore a call for help just because it came from the Princess of Thieves.