uncharacteristic diffidence.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
“Aye. I’m fine.”
She frowned at that. “You’re not fine,” she said, sounding more like herself. “You’ve been sitting here for hours. Not that I mind, but I expected you to be down at the waterfront, or asking questions of Janna, or risking a beating by going to see Sephira Pryce and her conjurer.”
“Well, I would. But the food and ale here are too good. I can’t bring myself to leave.”
“Ethan,” she said, growling his name, an eyebrow cocked.
“Sit,” he said, indicating the chair opposite his own.
Her expression didn’t change, but she lowered herself into the chair.
“I was at the waterfront,” he said, dropping his voice. “While I was there I felt a spell, and it caused another fight. A man nearly died, and I had to conjure to protect myself. At least two dozen men saw me do it.”
“The first spell—your ghost says it came from you?”
“Aye. So I’m here because I fear that if I’m out on the street, I’ll do more harm than good. Probably I should go back to my room on Cooper’s Alley. That would be safest.”
She took his hand. “No, you should stay here.”
“Eventually, I’ll have to brave the world again. I’m not going to find the conjurer who’s responsible for these spells by sitting at this table, gorging myself on your fine chowders and the Kent pale.”
Their smiles were fleeting.
“But for now,” Ethan went on, “I don’t know what to do or where to go.”
“I understand. You know that you’re welcome here as long as you wish to stay. But…” She broke off, seeming to wince at what she intended to say.
“It’s all right, Kannice. Go on.”
“Don’t be angry with me for suggesting this, but maybe you should leave Boston. Ramsey, or whoever this is, can’t hurt you if you’re not here, and he can’t use you to hurt others.”
“He can hurt you. He can hurt Janna and Mariz, Diver and Henry. And someone has to defeat him. Janna and Mariz can’t do it without me, and I wouldn’t want them to try.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but if you’re just hiding from him…”
“I don’t intend to hide forever. I’m going to find him, but right now I don’t even know where to look. Still, perhaps I should leave, because in the meantime, I’m not making any money.”
“You know you don’t need money to stay here.”
“I do know it. Thank you. But I don’t feel right taking your food and ale. And I’ll owe rent to Henry before long.”
Kannice stood. “I’ll leave you. But know this: I was concerned for you; nothing more. You can stay here as long as you wish. I like having you here.”
They both smiled.
She started to walk away, but then stopped and faced him again. “I haven’t brought this up in some time, because I know that you don’t want to discuss it. But if you lived here, and worked here, even some of the time, you wouldn’t need to pay for food, and you wouldn’t owe any rent to Henry.”
It was a conversation they’d had many times before, though perhaps never under such dire circumstances.
“I’ll consider it,” he said.
Her smile returned. “You’re humoring me again.”
“Perhaps a little.”
“Fine. Do you want another ale?”
He peered into his tankard, which was nigh to empty. “Please.”
“I’ll send Kelf over.”
“Thank you. I’ll be here, trying not to start any fights.”
She laughed, but Ethan could see that as she turned away her brow was creased once more.
* * *
He didn’t leave the Dowser for much of the following day, which was the first of March. He could have searched the waterfront again, and several times he reached for his greatcoat, intending to do precisely that. But he had little confidence that he would find the Muirenn, and he remained convinced that the risks of venturing into the city streets were too great to justify leaving the tavern.
Late in the day, however, a soldier arrived at the Dowser bearing a message. Ethan assumed that it was from the lieutenant governor, expressing his impatience for tidings about the Seider shooting. But instead the missive came from Geoffrey Brower, the husband of Ethan’s sister, Bett. Brower, who worked as a customs official, offered little information in his note, but requested that Ethan come as soon as possible to the Royal Customs House on King Street.
Curious as to what Geoffrey could want of him, and glad to have some reason other than dark conjurings to venture out into the lanes, Ethan grabbed