For a moment, no one moved. Adams and Otis, Mackintosh and Pell, Greenleaf and the men of the watch-all of them stared at Darrow. Adams was the first to look away. He gazed down at the pistol in his hand, and took a long, shuddering breath. Finally, as one, they turned to Ethan.
Pell hurried forward and knelt beside him.
“Where are you hurt?” the minister asked.
“It would take less time to tell you where I’m not hurt.”
Pell laughed breathlessly, sounding more relieved than amused. “Can you…?” he hesitated, glancing at the others. “Can you take care of it yourself?”
“I haven’t the strength,” Ethan said quietly, his thoughts clouded by the throbbing pain in his shoulder and knee. “And I’d rather not put on a display for the sheriff.” He looked around. “I don’t know where we are. How far are we from my home?”
“Did you just say that you don’t know where you are?” Adams said, coming forward.
“That’s right.”
Adams gestured at the tree to which Ethan had been chained. “This is the Liberty Tree, Mister Kaille. You’re on Orange Street, at Essex.”
The Liberty Tree. He had heard talk of the place. This was where Andrew Oliver had been hung in effigy, and where the first of the riots on August 14 had begun. More important, they were only a short distance from Janna’s tavern.
“There’s someone who can help me,” Ethan told Pell. “Her name is Tarijanna Windcatcher, and she owns the Fat Spider. It’s a tavern down the road toward the town gate.”
Pell started to stand. “I’ll get her.”
“No,” Ethan said, stopping him. “Send one of Greenleaf’s men. She doesn’t like ministers. She doesn’t like anyone. But she’ll help me. Tell him to use my name.”
The minister walked back to Greenleaf and his men and spoke to them in low tones. After a moment, one of the men started off down the road toward Janna’s tavern.
“Thank you,” Ethan said to Adams. “That was a fine shot. I thought you were palsied.”
“I am,” Adams said. “My penmanship is atrocious. Shooting is another matter.” He looked down at Darrow and shook his head. “Peter was a friend. I didn’t want to kill him.”
“You didn’t,” Ethan said, his voice low. “I did.” He had taken lives before, and perhaps he would again. But it would never be easy, not even when the man he killed was intent on murdering him. “And you should know that Darrow wasn’t your friend. He was a spy for supporters of Parliament and the Crown. He sought to undermine everything that you’re working for.”
Greenleaf came forward as Ethan spoke, plainly interested in what he was saying. Ethan paid no attention to him.
“He killed Jennifer Berson and three others,” he went on. “And he was perfectly willing to kill Mackintosh here, or me. Or both of you,” he said to Adams and Otis, “if it served his purposes.”
“Why did he kill them?” Pell asked.
“He was casting control spells-using his conjurings to make others do his bidding. He killed Jennifer Berson so that Mackintosh would take his mob and destroy Thomas Hutchinson’s home. He killed the girl who was found this morning to make Sheriff Greenleaf release Mackintosh from gaol. Same with the boy who died on Pope’s Day. He won Ebenezer’s release, and so won his trust.”
“That’s preposterous!” Greenleaf said, but there was uncertainty in his eyes.
“Is it, Sheriff?” Ethan asked. “Did you have any intention of releasing Ebenezer before this morning?”
“I…” He shook his head, his gaze falling to Darrow’s corpse. “I don’t recall,” he said at last.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Ethan said without rancor. Facing Adams again, he said, “The alliance between you and Mackintosh was a threat to him and to those he worked for. Everything he did was intended to drive the two of you apart, to break the bonds between Mackintosh’s followers and the Sons of Liberty.”
Mackintosh stared down at Darrow’s body, murder in his eyes. “You said there were four who died. Who was th’ last?”
Ethan considered this briefly. What was it Darrow had told him? No one died that day who wasn’t going to die anyway. He thought back to his conversation with Holin about the Richardson hanging-about how one of them had kicked violently when the other merely went limp.
“Ann Richardson,” he said.
Mackintosh frowned. “But-”
“She was to be executed anyway, I know. But he used her death to keep you and Swift, your North End rival, from declaring a truce. He needed the fighting to go on a while longer so that he could win you over on Pope’s Day.”
The cordwainer shook his head and glowered down at Darrow. “Bastard. He made me int’ a puppet. A toy.”
“We didn’t know, Ebenezer,” Otis said, his voice gentle. “You have my word on that.”
Mackintosh nodded, but he wouldn’t look at him.
Before Ethan could say more, the man of the watch stepped back into the ring of light, leading Janna, who had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, despite the warm night air.
“What you done t’ yourself, Kaille?”
“Hi, Janna,” Ethan said. “I’ve got a broken shoulder and a broken knee.”
“What else?”
“That’s all.”
She eyed him skeptically. “You look worse than just a broken shoulder an’ a broken knee.”
“Well, I can handle the rest.”
“What happened t’ all that mullein I gave you?”
“I used it.”
Janna shook her head, scowling at him. But then she sat down on the grass beside him. “Go ahead and cut yourself.”
His eyes darted toward the sheriff and then back to hers: a warning. Janna twisted around and looked back at Greenleaf, then dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “He’s gonna need more than three men if he wan’s t’ take me in.”
Ethan would have laughed had he not been so weary and in so much pain. He caught Pell’s eye and beckoned him over. The minister eyed Janna warily, but handed Ethan Otis’s knife. And after Ethan cut his forearm, Janna dabbed blood on his shoulder and began to heal his broken bones.
She didn’t speak her spell aloud, or indicate in any way that she had cast. But the ground began to hum, and the pale blue ghost of an old African woman appeared at her shoulder, her face a mirror image of Janna’s. Cool healing power flowed over Ethan’s tender shoulder like spring rain, and after several moments, the pain began to abate. He took a long breath and exhaled slowly.
“Better?” Janna asked.
“Much.”
She had him cut himself again and poured still more healing power into his shoulder before turning her talents to his shattered knee. By the time she had finished with that, Ethan’s forearm was raw and sore, but he could walk again.
“Thank you, Janna,” he said. “Again, I’m in your debt.”
She got to her feet, moving stiffly. “Yeah, you are,” she said, and walked off into the night, back toward her tavern.
Pell stood nearby, speaking with the sheriff, as did Adams, Mackintosh, and Otis. The men of the watch spoke in low tones among themselves, eyeing Ethan from a distance. Ethan stood slowly, wincing at the pain in his joints. Janna’s healing spells had taken the edge off his pain, but his shoulder and knee still throbbed, as he had known they would. His bad leg didn’t feel much better, and his entire body ached from all that Darrow had done to him this night and earlier in the day. He felt older than his age. Much older.
Seeing that Ethan was up, Pell and the others joined him in the firelight.
“Are you all right?” Pell asked.
“I will be. Thank you.” Ethan looked at Adams, Mackintosh, Otis, and even Greenleaf. “All of you. He would have killed me if you hadn’t come.”
“All the credit goes to your young friend here,” Adams said, indicating Pell with an open hand. “He came to us saying that you were in trouble.”
Pell flushed. “I only did what Ethan told me to. I lingered by the Green Dragon, looking for the two of you and for Darrow. When I saw him, he was acting strangely, so I followed. Eventually I realized that he had you, Ethan. Once I figured out where he was taking you, I went back for Mister Adams and Mister Otis.”
“Well,” Ethan said, “I think you’ll make a fine thieftaker if you ever decide to give up the ministry. Wouldn’t you agree, Sheriff?”
“I suppose,” Greenleaf said. He still looked shaken and unsure of himself. Ethan had never been the object of a controlling spell-though he had come close in the past day. He could only imagine how disconcerting it would feel.
“I should have listened t’ you, Mister Kaille,” Mackintosh said. “You tried t’ warn me about him.”
“Did you warn him about us, too?” Adams asked.
Mackintosh glared. “Wha’s tha’ mean?”
“We were ready to let you hang for the Berson murder,” Adams told him. “And for what had been done to Hutchinson’s house. We feared that your actions would do irreparable harm to our cause.” He nodded toward Otis. “As James said, we had no idea that Darrow was making you do these things. He sought to divide us, and so to weaken the cause of liberty. And he nearly succeeded. You have my sincere apology, Ebenezer.”
Mackintosh didn’t answer. Darrow’s fire had burned low, but still Ethan could see that the cordwainer’s jaw had tensed and his gaze had hardened. After a moment, he turned to Ethan.
“Good nigh’, Mister Kaille. If you ever have need o’ anything at all, you come see me. I’ll take care o’ you.” He glared once more at Adams and Otis, and stalked away.
“Peter may have succeeded after all,” Otis said, watching him go.
But Adams shook his head. “He’s angry now, as he should be. But he’ll come around. He understands the importance of what we fight for.”
Ethan wasn’t so certain, but he kept his doubts to himself.
Adams extended a hand, which Ethan gripped. “You have our gratitude, Mister Kaille. I wonder if you wouldn’t reconsider joining our cause. You know now that what happened the night of the twenty-sixth was not what it appeared. We could use a man of your talents and courage.”
“I’m a subject of the British Empire, Mister Adams.”
“As am I, sir. But I also recognize that our relationship with Parliament and the Crown cannot continue as it has. Mark my word, matters will only get worse.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll see to that.”
Otis bristled. Ethan thought Adams might, too. But the man seemed unaffected by what Ethan had said.
“Our liberties are sacred. They’re a gift from God. And if Grenville and King George refuse to recognize this, I can hardly be blamed for holding them accountable.” He pocketed his pistol. “In any case, you will always be welcomed as a friend in our struggle, even if you don’t yet understand that it is your struggle as well.”
“Darrow called you a visionary,” Ethan said, before Adams could leave.
The man smiled sadly. “Did he?”
“What did he mean?”
Adams shrugged. “I would guess he meant that I see where all of this will lead.” He glanced at Otis, but then faced Ethan again. “Few speak of separation now.”
“Separation of the colonies from England, you mean?”
“That’s right. People aren’t ready to hear of it. But it is coming; we’re merely laying the foundation, working out what liberty might mean in a new nation. Peter knew this as well as I. I suppose he didn’t approve.”
“And he betrayed you because of it. Don’t you worry that others will do the same?”
“No,” Adams said. “I know for certain that they will. What should I do? Give up?” He shook his head. “Any noble cause will encounter its share of setbacks. The strength of that cause is measured in how the men who fight for it respond. We refuse to give up, which is why we will prevail eventually.” Adams smiled once more. “Good night, Mister Kaille,” he said, and walked away.
Otis nodded to Ethan and Pell, and followed Adams.
Ethan wanted to leave as well, but Greenleaf still had questions for him; he should have expected as much. He was more weary than he could ever remember, and wanted only to sleep. But he beckoned the man over and told him what he could of all Darrow had done. He skirted around the edges of the truth at times, taking care not to say too much about conjuring. He sensed that his answers served only to frustrate the sheriff more, but in the end there was little Greenleaf could do to him. Pell and the others had already made it clear that Ethan had been tortured; Darrow’s death could hardly be seen as anything other than self-defense.
“What do we do with his body?” the sheriff asked at last, as Ethan started to leave.
“What?”
“His body. He was a witch, wasn’t he? That’s what I gather from all you’ve said. Do we cut off his head or something?”
Ethan looked back at Darrow one last time. “No, nothing like that. Just bury him.” He turned to the minister. “Come on. I’ll walk with you back to your church.”
“Are you well enough?” Pell asked.
“I think so.”
They didn’t say much as they walked along the moonlit street. Ethan’s legs ached, and he was too weary to make conversation. Pell seemed to understand. But when they reached King’s Chapel, the minister slowed, his expression troubled. He pulled up his sleeve and examined the bloodless gash on his forearm.
“Does it hurt?” Ethan asked.
The minister shook his head. “No. It did when I cut myself, but then you cast your spell and… It felt odd.” He glanced at Ethan. “I’m not sure I liked it.”
Ethan nearly said, You get used to it. But he stopped himself. He could almost see Henry Caner scowling at him. “Well, let’s hope we never have to do that again,” he said instead, thinking that the rector would have approved.
Pell nodded, looking at his arm once more. “Do you think Adams is right?” he asked, pulling down his sleeve. “Will matters worsen before they get better?”
“I would think so,” Ethan said. “Grenville is determined to have his revenue; Adams and his friends are just as determined not to pay. It’s a dangerous game they’re playing.”
Pell gazed toward the rector’s house. “Mister Caner and I are on opposite sides of this.”
“You’re both men of God. That’s what matters.”
“Of course,” Pell said, though he sounded unsure. “Good night, Ethan. Rest well.”
“You, too, Mister Pell. Thank you.”
Ethan watched him enter the church. Then he walked on to the Dowser. He knew that he should be watchful as he made his way through the streets. If Sephira and her men chose this night to come after him he would be hard-pressed to protect himself. But he was too tired and too sore to do anything more than walk, shoulders hunched, hands in the pockets of his breeches.
He reached the tavern without incident. Upon entering he breathed in the warmth and the familiar aromas, and knew a moment of relief that almost brought tears to his eyes. The past several days had taken too much out of him. Before learning of Jennifer Berson’s death from Abner Berson’s servant, he had intended to rest for a few weeks. Now he promised himself that he would actually do it.
In the next instant, though, he spotted Diver sitting alone at a table in the back of the tavern. His weariness forgotten, he stalked across the main room to where his friend sat.
Kelf shouted out a “HiEthan!” but Ethan hardly heard him.
“Ethan!” Diver said, seeing him approach. “You don’t look-”
“What were you doing with Derne today?”
The younger man blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. What business did you have with Cyrus Derne?”
Diver stared down at his half-finished ale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Something inside of Ethan snapped. He grabbed Diver by the collar with both hands, lifted him out of his seat, overturning the chair, the table, and the ale as he did, and slammed his friend against the wall.
“Tell me!” he said, his face just inches from Diver’s. “I saw you with them! You and Cyrus Derne and Sephira Pryce and some other merchant! I saw you! Now tell me what you were doing with them, or I swear to God, Diver, I’ll thrash you to within an inch of your life!”
He knew people were staring at them. He knew how angry Kannice would be. In that moment, he didn’t care.
“All right!” Diver said. “It was the wine and rum! Remember, I told you about them?”
“The wine and rum,” Ethan repeated. He didn’t know what Diver was talking about, and he actually drew back his fist intending to hit the man. But then it came to him. From France. The shipment Diver had been waiting for several nights earlier.
His anger began to sluice away, though he didn’t release Diver. Not yet. “Derne was involved with that?” he said.
“He didn’t want to sell them directly, because of the new laws. But he was one of the merchants backing us. So was Greg Kellirand-that’s the other man you saw us with.”
“And Sephira?”
Diver’s gaze slid away. “It wasn’t my idea to involve her. Derne wanted her in, and I couldn’t just walk away. I wanted to, Ethan. Really. The way she beat you the other day. I didn’t want-”
“It’s all right, Diver.” Ethan released him and took a step back. The shipment-wine and rum. That was what had taken Derne into the streets the night of the riots, the night Jennifer followed him. Ethan probably should have reasoned it out. “I’m sorry,” he said after some time. “I shouldn’t have…”
“It’s all right,” Diver said in a low voice. He looked past Ethan. “At least it is with me.”
Ethan turned. Kannice stood nearby, her hands on her hips, a cloth draped over her shoulder.
“Everything all right here?” she asked, her gaze fixed on Ethan, a hard look in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Ethan said.
He righted the table and picked up Diver’s tankard. Kannice squatted down beside him and began to mop up the spilled ale with her cloth.
“I can do that,” he told her.
“I’ve got it,” she said, the words clipped.
“I’m sorry, Kannice. I know how you hate this sort of thing.”
She nodded, but said nothing more.
Ethan straightened and watched as she finished cleaning up his mess. Diver held himself still, his lips pursed, steadfastly avoiding Ethan’s gaze.
When at last Kannice stood up again, Ethan said, “I owe apologies to both of you.”
Diver and Kannice shared a brief look.
“I think we’ll both be glad when you’re done with this job,” Kannice said.
“I am.”
They stared at him.
“You know who killed her?” Kannice asked.
“Peter Darrow.”
“Darrow?” Diver repeated. “The lawyer? He’s a conjurer?”
“Was. He’s dead.”
Kannice paled. “Did you…?”
“I had help.”
Diver picked up his chair, set it down properly, and sat. “I want to hear all about this.”
Kannice grinned sheepishly. “Actually, I do, too.” She held up three fingers for Kelf. Ales all around. She and Ethan sat, and Ethan began to relate all that had happened to him in the last day and a half.
It was a late night, made even later when, after Diver left, Kannice led Ethan up to her room above the tavern. There she gently removed his torn, battle-stained clothes, undressed herself, and made love to him.
Ethan slept away much of the morning and still woke sore and tired. Kannice had risen early, kissed him, and gone down to the tavern. When at last he dressed and joined her there, she greeted him with a big smile.
“Are you hungry?”
He shook his head. “Actually, no.”
Concern chased the smile from her face. “Is everything all right?”
“I have to go see Berson, and then Henry. And I could use a change of clothes.”
“All right,” she said, suddenly sounding guarded.
He knew why. He would also have to return the clothes he had borrowed from Elli.
“I’ll be back later. I promise.”
“Of course.”
Ethan eyed her a moment longer, then left the tavern.
He went first to the Berson house, and was ushered into the merchant’s study. Berson came in several minutes later, frowning at the state of Ethan’s clothes and his bruises.
“I’m afraid this inquiry hasn’t been kind to you, Mister Kaille,” the man said, indicating that Ethan should take a seat.
“No, sir. Which is why I’m glad it’s over.”
Berson had just turned to close the door, but now he spun back to face Ethan so quickly that he nearly lost his balance. “Over, you say?”
“Yes, sir. I know who killed your daughter. And I know why.”
“Tell me. Please.”
“Peter Darrow killed her and several others.”
Berson’s jaw dropped. “Darrow? The man who works with Otis and Adams?”
“Yes, sir. He was a conjurer, and he was using killing spells to control the actions of others. I believe he was working on behalf of the Crown, or someone close to it.”
Berson frowned. “I find that hard to believe. Surely this is what that scoundrel Adams told you.”
“Actually, sir, it’s what Darrow told me. He used the spell that cost your daughter her life to control Ebenezer Mackintosh. Darrow forced him to lead his mob to Hutchinson’s house.”
“This makes no sense,” Berson said, his voice shaking.
“No, sir, I don’t suppose it does. But it is the truth.”
Ethan thought about telling the merchant why his daughter went into the streets that night, but then thought better of it. Ethan couldn’t say for sure that her death was Derne’s fault, and even if he had been sure, that was a matter for Berson and Derne to work out between themselves.
“Where is Darrow now?” Berson asked after a time, staring at the floor, his cheeks bright red.
“He’s dead, sir.”
“Do I have you to thank for that?”
“In part, yes. I killed him, after Adams shot him.”
The merchant blinked, then nodded. There were tears in his eyes, but he made no effort to hide them. “Well, I’m grateful to you. Another man might have retrieved the brooch, taken his money, and been done with it. Few men I know would have risked so much on another’s behalf. I won’t forget this. You have my gratitude and that of my family.”
“I’m glad I could help you, sir.”
Berson stood. “I believe I owe you the balance of your payment.”
“You gave me five pounds the other day, sir, so whatever you pay me should reflect that.”
“You’re a good man, Mister Kaille. I’m not sure you would do very well down at the wharves, but I admire your honesty.” He crossed to a small writing table in a corner of the library and pulled from a drawer a coin pouch. He poured the contents onto the table and made a careful count. From where Ethan stood there looked to be twenty pounds sterling; perhaps more. Berson placed the coins back in the pouch and handed it to Ethan.
“There you go. You’ve earned every pound.”
“That’s… that’s very generous of you, sir.”
“Well, perhaps at some time in the future you’ll consider working for me again.”
“Of course, sir. It would be an honor.”
Berson shook Ethan’s hand and smiled, though it appeared to take a great effort. His eyes were still red. “I think I would like to tell my wife what’s happened. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have William show you out.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The merchant left him there, and his servant came to see Ethan to the door. William didn’t say much to him this time, but as Ethan was leaving he asked, “Was I righ’ abou’ Mister Derne?”
Ethan thought back to their conversation that first day. William had said Derne was careless, a man who could lead Jennifer into peril.
“Yes, you were,” he said. “I didn’t tell this to Mister Berson, because Derne didn’t mean to harm her. But if not for him, she might still be alive.”
William nodded gravely. “I feared as much. Good-bye, Mister Kaille. May th’ Lord keep you safe.”
“And you, William.”
Ethan walked back to the lane and turned toward home.