That much Ethan had gathered for himself.
“Do you have any idea where he-?”
“No more, Ethan. Please.”
Ethan considered pushing him for one last answer, but in the next moment thought better of it. Dunc wasn’t a bad sort, and Ethan had no desire to see him beaten or killed. “All right. But know this. I’ll be watching the Nest. If Gant comes here-whether it’s to meet with someone or sell goods-I’ll learn of it. And if I have to tear this place apart to get at him, that’s what I’ll do. So you should ask yourself whether you’re better off protecting him or helping me.”
Dunc kept his eyes on Ethan, but he reached for the paper once more. This time Ethan let him have it. He drained his ale and left the tavern. He could threaten the man all he wanted; he knew that it wouldn’t change Dunc’s mind. Ethan couldn’t blame him. Had he been in the Scot’s position, he too would have been more afraid of Gant than of himself.
Ethan intended to go to the Dowser next. There had been no time for him to speak with Kannice before leaving the city the previous day, and she would be wondering why she hadn’t seen him last night.
But as he stepped out onto Centre Street he noticed that people were walking toward the shores of the harbor, and that a crowd had gathered down at the water’s edge. He thought he knew already what had drawn the interest of so many, but he followed Centre Street onto Lee’s Wharf to make certain. From the wharf, he had a clear view of the harbor and was able to confirm his suspicions.
The British fleet was on the move. The vessels were still arrayed around Castle William, but several had sweeps out. Others were already far enough from the fortress to have raised sails, and were now cutting across the harbor toward the city. Rickman had been right: The occupation would begin within the next day, perhaps this very night.
At least a hundred men and women were standing with Ethan on the wharf, and another dozen or two had gathered on the street behind them. Yet they were all so still, so utterly silent, that Ethan could have closed his eyes and convinced himself that he was alone.
“Won’t be long now,” one man finally murmured, breaking the silence. Others nodded their agreement.
“Let them come!” one young man cried.
People looked at him, but no one responded.
Ethan turned and started back up from the wharf. He hadn’t gone far, though, when he felt power hum in the cobblestone. It wasn’t a strong spell and it seemed to have been cast from a distance, but he sensed the conjuring spreading through the city like a ripple in the surface of a pond.
He was still too close to the crowd watching the ships to pull out his knife and cut himself. Fortunately, he had the mullein. He took out the pouch, removed three leaves, and spoke a warding spell under his breath.
His conjuring whispered in the street, an answer to that distant spell, and Reg stared at him, insubstantial in the late-afternoon light.
A few seconds later, the other conjurer’s spell reached him, coiling around his legs. Another finding spell. It felt much like the conjuring Mariz had used to locate him earlier, and Ethan wondered if Sephira had already learned that Gant was still alive. He didn’t expect that he would have to wait long to find out.
He strode away from the crowded wharf, following Ann Street back toward Union, but halted before he reached the busy intersection. He preferred to face Mariz and Sephira where he could use his knife to conjure. And he had no intention of luring them closer to Kannice and the Dowser.
As he expected, Mariz reached him a short time later, though surprisingly the conjurer was alone.
Mariz stopped a few paces from Ethan and glanced around, a sour look on his thin face.
“It was you?” the man asked, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“Who else would it have been?”
“What are you doing here?”
Ethan smiled thinly. “I don’t answer to you, Mariz. Or to your boss.”
Spectacles looked like he might argue, but instead he shook his head and turned to leave again, back the way he had come.
“Who were you looking for?” Ethan called after him. “That finding spell would only have worked on a conjurer. Who did you think you would find here?”
“Stay out of my way, Kaille,” Mariz said over his shoulder. “This is none of your concern, and I see no need to involve you. But if I have to, I will kill you.”
“I think you’ll find that more difficult than you imagine.”
Mariz flashed a quick grin and continued away.
Ethan watched him go before making his way to the Dowser. Who had Mariz been looking for? Had another conjurer come to Boston? And if so, what did he or she have to do with Gant?
Ethan faltered in midstride.
Was Gant the conjurer? Sephira and Mariz had been interested in the Graystone, and Ethan felt certain that they were looking for Gant, just as he was. But it had never occurred to Ethan that Gant might be a conjurer, too. Ethan had used spells during his one encounter with the man, but his conjuring had been too inept and too weak to have much effect. Gant was able to escape without resorting to spells of his own. At the time, Ethan assumed that Gant didn’t possess any spellmaking abilities. But what if he had been mistaken?
He wondered for the first time if there had been not two but three conjurers on the Graystone. He could dismiss as mere coincidence the presence of two spellers on the ship, but not three. Maybe Sephira hadn’t brought Mariz to Boston because she wanted to match the man’s power against Ethan’s. Maybe she faced a more significant danger.
By the time he reached the Dowsing Rod, the sky had begun to shade to a dark, brooding gray, and Beacon Hill and the spire of West Church were dark silhouettes against the clouds. Ethan entered the tavern and was embraced by the warm scent of baking bread and some sort of savory stew. There were few people inside-it was early yet-and he spotted Diver right away.
Ethan crossed to the bar, tossed a half shilling to Kelf, and made his way back to where Diver was sitting, sipping an ale and reading the Gazette.
Seeing Ethan, his friend set the paper aside.
“Where have you been? Kannice was asking after you last night and I didn’t know what to tell her.”
“I spent the night at Castle William,” Ethan said, knowing that this would leave his friend speechless.
He wasn’t disappointed. Diver’s mouth fell open, but he couldn’t manage a word.
Kelf came to the table bearing a cup of ale, a bowl of beef stew, and a round of bread. “Hereyago, Ethan,” the barkeep said, running the words together as always. “Anythin’ for you, Diver?”
“Another ale,” Diver said, still staring at Ethan.
Once Kelf was gone, Diver leaned forward. “What were you doing out there?”
“It’s a long story,” Ethan said. “And I’m not sure how much I can tell you right now.” The tavern was filling up, and Ethan didn’t want to be overheard. Besides, trusting in Diver’s discretion was never the best idea, as he had been reminded two nights before. “It’s enough to say that I’ll be working on behalf of the Crown for the next few days.”
“The Crown?” Diver said, admiration in his voice. He nodded, his lips pursed. Ethan hadn’t seen Diver this impressed in some years, probably since he had worked for Abner Berson.
Ethan picked up his spoon and began to eat.
“Well, I’m sorry to say that I can’t tell you much,” Diver said. “I’ve looked for Spectacles the past two days, but I haven’t seen him. I’m not even sure he’s in Boston anymore.”
“His name is Mariz,” Ethan said between mouthfuls. “I think he’s from Portugal. I know he’s working for Sephira. I saw him right before I came here.”
Diver blinked. “Oh.”
Ethan grinned. He would have walked through fire to save Diver’s life, and Diver would have done the same for him. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t occasionally enjoy a laugh at his friend’s expense.