“I’m not helping anyone violate the agreements,” Ethan said, his voice low. “I’m merely trying to keep shops from being burned to the ground. Is that so bad?”
“Some of them deserve to be burned out,” Diver said with quiet intensity.
“You don’t mean that,” Ethan said. “Violence is-”
“Violence is all we’ve got. If these merchants break the agreements, then the movement fails and we’re stuck with the Revenue Acts and all that comes with them. Is that what you want?”
Deborah had been good for Diver. In their time together he had matured, and had managed to find steady employment as a clerk in a shop near where she lived. But, like Kannice, she was a supporter of Samuel Adams and his friends, and at her urging Diver had joined the Sons of Liberty. Ethan enjoyed the company of the new, mature Diver; he was less sure about this political Diver who was so fervent in support of a movement he had all but ignored until a few months before.
“I’ll tell you what I don’t want,” Ethan said. “I don’t want any part of ‘liberty’ if it means that those who don’t agree with you and your friends can have their businesses destroyed, while those who do the deed go unpunished. And I think if you were to consider it even briefly, you’d agree with me.”
Diver glowered at him, but said nothing.
“I believe, Mister Kaille,” Deborah said after a brief silence, “that Derrey fears for you.”
“Why is that?”
She hesitated, seeming to search for the right words. “People see you with these men, and they assume that you’re in agreement with them, that you think they’re right to defy the agreements.”
“And then they see me with you,” Ethan said to Diver, his choler rising in turn. “And they think the worst of you, as well. Is that it?”
“People know where I stand,” Diver said. “Deborah’s right: I’m worried about you.”
“So am I.”
Ethan swiveled in his chair. Kannice stood behind him, a towel draped over her shoulder, loose strands of auburn hair falling over her brow. There was a fine sheen of sweat on her face, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked lovely, as always.
He could smell the lavender in her hair, and the faint scent of Irish whiskey on her breath. It was a combination he had come to know and love in their years together. He hoped that she would stoop and brush his lips with hers, as she usually did when she greeted him. But she merely gazed back at him, a pained expression in her periwinkle blue eyes.
It had been over four weeks since last Ethan stayed the night with her. In all their years together, this was the longest they had gone without making love, and Ethan had little hope that she would invite him back into her bed any time soon. Unless he gave up working for the noncomplying merchants.
“Do you think it’s right,” Ethan asked, looking from Kannice to Diver, “that mobs cover the windows and doors of these men’s shops with dirt and shit? Do you think it’s right that the merchants should be so afraid for the safety of their wives and children that they can no longer live in their own homes, but instead must hide in the houses of the few friends they have left?”
“I can’t say if it’s right or not,” Diver said. “But I do know that they brought this on themselves.”
“Is that what you think as well?” Ethan asked Kannice. “If Tories did those things to the Dowser and justified their actions by saying that you brought it on yourself when you cast your lot with Samuel Adams and his fellow radicals, would you agree?”
She opened her mouth, closed it again, the look in her eyes hardening. After a moment, she turned on her heel and stalked back to the bar.
Ethan could do little more than stare after her.
“You don’t want people thinking you’re one of them,” Diver said. “And I can tell you that people are already talking.”
Ethan continued to watch Kannice, though she steadfastly refused to look his way. “Of course they are. That’s what people around here do best.”
“Ethan-”
“And what are they saying?” He faced Diver once more. “Are they calling me an ex-convict? A mutineer? A witch?”
“They’re calling you a traitor.”
“Odd, isn’t it, that I can be a traitor and a loyalist at the same time? Except that I’m neither. You and I both know that.”
“You make it hard for people to believe.”
Ethan took a long drink of ale before setting down his tankard smartly. “They’ll believe what they want to, regardless of what I do.”
“What if they come by your place, and do to Henry’s cooperage what they’ve been doing to the shops?”
“How are they going to find me, Diver? Are you going to tell them where I live?”
“That’s not fair, Mister Kaille!” Deborah said, her cheeks reddening, her eyes shining with candlelight. “Derrey defends you at every opportunity. I’ve heard him.”
Before Ethan could answer, Kelf arrived at their table with Ethan’s chowder and a small round of bread.
“There ya go,” the barkeep said, placing the bowl and bread in front of him. “Anything else, Ethan?”
Ethan shook his head. The barkeep looked at each of them in turn before starting back toward the kitchen, a frown on his broad face. Long after Kelf left them, Ethan continued to regard his ale.
“I’m sorry, Diver,” he said at last. “I shouldn’t have said that.” The younger man didn’t answer. Ethan looked up. Diver was staring down at his tankard, much as he had been.
“I need the money,” Ethan said. “Surely you can understand that. In my line of work, I don’t always get to choose my clients. They choose me, and if they’re offering coin, I can hardly refuse.”
“You could refuse this,” Diver said, sounding more sad than angry.
Ethan knew there was no point in continuing their argument. He had said his piece, as had Diver. He picked up his spoon and began to eat, though his appetite had long since left him. He scanned the tavern for Kannice and spotted her near the bar. She was chatting amiably with a man he didn’t recognize, a man younger and taller and better-looking than he was. At one point she laughed at something he said, and laid a hand lightly on his arm. Ethan looked away, fighting a powerful surge of jealousy.
She could do better than him. Ethan had known that for some time. She was smart and strong and beautiful and as kind as anyone he had ever known. He knew that any man in his right mind would want her. This might finally have occurred to her, as well.
“Maybe you could work for Adams and the rest,” Diver said, after several minutes.
Ethan glanced up at him, not bothering to mask his skepticism.
“I’m serious. Maybe they have jobs that you could do, and then you wouldn’t-”
Deborah laid a hand on his arm. “Have done, Derrey,” she said softly. “It’s enough.”
He pressed his lips thin and sat back in his chair. “Anyway,” he said after a brief pause. “It’s getting late. We should probably go.”
It couldn’t have been much past eight in the evening, which had never been late for Diver before. But Ethan didn’t try to stop them.
Diver stood, and Deborah did as well, her brow creased with concern.
“Good night, Ethan.”
“Diver.”
Ethan’s friend began to wend his way to the door. Deborah lingered at the table.
“He really is frightened for you. You’re like an older brother to him.”
“I know.”
“Mister Kaille-” She broke off, appearing to think better of whatever she had meant to say. “Good night.”
“Good night, Deborah.”
She offered a sad smile and hurried after Diver.
Ethan watched them go before turning his attention back to his food. He ate a bit of his chowder and a few bites of bread. He chewed slowly, making himself eat, oblivious of taste. He couldn’t even bring himself to finish his ale.
Kannice still stood near the bar. The man with whom she had been speaking was nowhere to be seen, but she continued to avoid Ethan’s gaze. Once he had given Diver and Deborah time enough to put good distance between themselves and the tavern, he stood and left as well. He was sure that Kannice saw him leave; he felt her watching him as he crossed to the door. But she made no effort to stop him, and Ethan gave her no indication that he wished to stay.