are any conjurers here, Ethan told him silently. And if there are, I don’t want them to know that I’m aware of their powers. Can you search the tavern without allowing yourself to be seen, even by those who can cast spells?
Reg nodded and vanished, though not before grinning like a thief in a rich man’s home. Ethan assumed that the ghost followed as Adams led him to the small room at the back of the tavern.
Because Ethan was accompanied by Adams, no one tried to keep him from entering. John, the man who first greeted him at the door, eyed him with obvious mistrust, as did James Otis, whom Ethan had met on several occasions.
Ethan lingered in the room for a few minutes, which he hoped would be enough time for Reg to conduct his search. Then he approached Adams and bid the man farewell.
“Have you found … anyone?” Adams asked in a whisper.
“Not yet, sir. Perhaps in the great room.”
“Very well, Mister Kaille. We will meet again soon.”
They shook hands and Ethan left the small room for the main part of the tavern. He stood beside the door for some time, scanning the great room for any sign of Reg. Before long, he saw the image of the ghost flare beside the bar for no more than the blink of an eye.
Ethan pushed through the crowd to the bar. Reg appeared again beside a small man who stood drinking an ale, speaking to no one.
This one? Ethan asked.
Reg nodded.
Anyone else?
No.
Can you tell how powerful he is?
Reg shook his head again.
Before Ethan could ask the ghost anything more, the man let out a gasp. He had spotted Reg—as the lone conjurer in the tavern other than Ethan, he was the only person who could see the shade.
“He’s with me,” Ethan said.
The man turned with such haste that he slopped ale onto the bar and down the front of his own waistcoat.
“Who are you?”
“Ethan Kaille.” He held out a hand, which the man gripped with some reluctance.
“Are … are you with the Sons of Liberty?”
“No. I’m a thieftaker. I’m wondering if you would be so kind as to summon your spectral guide. Just for a moment.”
“Why should I?”
“As a courtesy to me.”
“What? I have no—”
Ethan silenced him with a raised finger. “As I said, I’m a thieftaker. I’m conducting an inquiry and would like very much to see your ghost. If you refuse, I’ll have little choice but to assume you do so out of fear that your role in the crime will be discovered.”
“This is outrageous! What crime?”
Ethan shook his head. To Reg he said, “He leaves us no choice. I’m sure the sheriff will be eager to speak with him.”
“Now, wait a second. There’s no need to involve the sheriff.”
“I quite agree,” Ethan said. “Your ghost?”
The man placed his tankard on the bar and whispered, “Veni ad me.”
A glowing figure appeared beside him: a woman dressed in finery, who glowed with a pale orange hue. She was rather homely, with curled hair and a haughty expression. She regarded Reg with unconcealed hostility.
“Is this the ghost you saw two days ago?” Ethan asked his own spectral guide.
No.
“Does the color of his power look familiar?”
No.
Ethan wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
“Are you satisfied?” the man asked, sounding self-righteous and angry. Ethan could hardly blame him.
“I am. Please accept my apologies, sir, and my thanks for your cooperation.”
“I’m not much inclined to accept either.”
Ethan donned his hat. “No, I don’t imagine.” He started toward the stairway. “Good day, sir.”
“I want to know what crime you thought I had committed.”
Ethan halted, turned. “I beg your pardon.”
“The crime for which you were ready to blame me. I should like to know what it was. I believe you owe me that small courtesy.”
“I don’t believe I owe you anything, sir.”
“You were lying. There was no crime.”
The man spoke bravely, but when Ethan took a step back in his direction, he quailed.
“What is your name?” Ethan asked.
“Why should I tell you that?”
“Small courtesies.”
His eyebrows bunched in a way that told Ethan he didn’t appreciate having his words thrown back at him. But he said, “Jonathan Grant.”
“I wasn’t lying, Mister Grant. And you might consider that accusing a stranger of such a thing, when you don’t know how powerful a conjurer he is, might not be so wise. The crime in question is not one others know about, but it was committed on Middle Street, two days ago.”