me: You believe that though they haven’t said as much, the people you’re working for are loyalists who seek to weaken the patriot cause. You were happy to be paid, but you would do this work for nothing if it meant helping to defeat Samuel Adams and his rabble. Isn’t that right?”
The way the soldier gawked at him one might have thought he had sprouted wings and flown in circles over the city. “How did you know that?”
“You’re not the only conjurer Ramsey hired.”
“You mentioned that name before. Ramsey. Who is he?”
“He’s no loyalist; I can tell you that much. He’s a merchant captain, a conjurer, and a madman. None of what you’ve been asked to do will help your fellow soldiers or hurt Samuel Adams and his allies. Ramsey wants vengeance. That’s all he cares about.”
“Vengeance on who?” Morrison asked.
“On me.”
“I don’t believe you,” Morrison said, narrowing his eyes.
“I don’t care. You’re going to help us find him.”
The soldier’s expression hardened. “And what if I don’t?”
“Then every man in your regiment will learn that you’re a witch.”
“I could do the same to you. To both of you,” he added with a quick look at Mariz.
“You could, but it wouldn’t prevent your court-martial, would it? You don’t have to do anything you wouldn’t otherwise,” Ethan said. “You’ll come with us to the burying ground, cast your spell, and be on your way. We won’t trouble you again, and you’ll have done nothing to violate the terms of your agreement with Ramsey.”
“What about a message? I’m supposed to leave one for him.”
“And so you will. We’re to be your message.”
Ethan could see that the soldier didn’t like this idea at all. He was eyeing the two of them again; Ethan thought he might be trying to determine if he could fight them off long enough to retrieve his musket.
“I’ve had a long night, Morrison,” Ethan said. “I was on King Street when your friends opened fire. And that was far from the worst part of my evening. If you so much as glance in the direction of your weapon, my friend and I will shatter every bone in your body, heal them all, and then break them again, one by one. Through no fault of your own, you’ve been drawn into a blood feud. Ramsey wants me dead, and I’m determined to kill him if I have to. Please don’t make me hurt you, too.”
The soldier hesitated but then nodded.
“Shall we make our way to the burying ground?” Ethan asked.
“I suppose.”
“Come along then.” Ethan turned to Mariz. “Walk behind us. If he takes a step in the wrong direction, snap his neck.”
Mariz turned to Morrison and smiled. “With pleasure.”
“What about my knife and musket?”
“It’s half past two in the morning. Leave them there; they’ll be waiting for you when we’re done at the burying ground.”
The soldier didn’t seem satisfied with this response either, but he fell in beside Ethan and they began the short walk from Wings Lane to the burying ground.
“Why does this man Ramsey hate you so much?” Morrison asked after some time.
“That’s a long tale,” Ethan said, unable to keep the weariness from his voice. “Long ago we found ourselves at odds, and we never managed to make peace.”
This left Morrison looking more confounded than satisfied, but he said nothing more until they reached the burying ground gate.
Once inside the grounds, the soldier led Ethan to one of the grave markers near the entrance.
“This is it,” he said. “This is where I’m to leave the missives.”
“All right then,” Ethan said. “Cast your spell. Carefully, Morrison. There’s still two of us and only one of you.”
The man reached for his knife, but of course it was no longer on his belt. Ethan drew his own and handed it to the man hilt first. Morrison took it, clearly surprised by the trust Ethan had shown him. He cut himself and muttered his warding spell. When the thrum of the conjuring had died away, he returned Ethan’s knife.
“What now?”
“Go back to your regiment, lad. You’ll have no more trouble from me.” Ethan proffered a hand, which the man gripped after a moment’s hesitation.
The soldier cast one last look at Mariz, before trudging through the snow back to the street.
“I am not sure it was wise to let him go,” Mariz said, watching the soldier.
“Perhaps not. But I’ve seen too many men die tonight. I’m not willing to watch Ramsey kill him, too.”
Mariz didn’t argue. “So now we wait for another man