Kannice walked back to where Kelf was ladling out the stew and said something that made the rest of her patrons laugh uproariously. She might have been unyielding when it came to her rules, but she could outdrink a Scottish sea captain and she told jokes that would make an old sailor blush.
“You’re going to tell her what I did, aren’t you?” Diver said, once she was out of earshot.
Ethan took a quick sip of ale to hide his amusement. “I’ll tell her what happened. She’ll work out the rest.”
“Probably,” Diver muttered. “I really am sorry.”
“It cost you nearly as much as it did me.”
“Aye, but I know how much you hate being bested by Sephira.”
Ethan looked away. Kelf was headed in their direction carrying two bowls of steaming stew.
“There y’are,” the big man said, placing the bowls in front of them. “Another ale, Diver?”
Diver glanced at Ethan.
“We’ll both take another,” Ethan said before draining his tankard and handing it to Kelf.
Once the barkeep had walked away, Diver turned to Ethan again, a sheepish look on his face. “Ethan-”
“Leave it, Diver. Sephira’s men didn’t beat me. Sephira didn’t threaten you or Kannice or Elli and her kids. All she did was take a bit of coin that I’d claimed for myself. It’s not worth worrying about.”
If anything, the younger man’s shoulders drooped even more after hearing this, but he muttered something in agreement.
Kelf returned with their ales, and for some time neither man spoke. Ethan watched Kannice as she made her way around the main room of the tavern, chatting with her patrons, laughing at their jokes, chastising them when they spilled their drinks. Now and again her eyes found Ethan’s and she smiled, but for the most part she left him and Diver to themselves.
“I liked working with you,” Diver said at length, pushing his empty bowl to the center of the table. “I liked being a thieftaker, even if it was just for a little while.”
Ethan eyed him. “Did you?”
“Aye,” his friend said. “Was I any good at it?”
“You figured out that Tanner was our thief. That took some doing.”
Diver beamed. “Does that mean I can help you with another job?”
“I don’t know. Can you manage to take a girl to your bed without telling her my business?”
“Of course I can,” Diver said, his color rising.
Ethan sat forward. “Are you sure? I’m asking you seriously. There are times when I’ll want your help, but after this…” He shook his head. “If I’m going to rely on you, I have to know I can trust you.”
The younger man held his gaze though Ethan could tell that the words stung. “You can.”
Ethan regarded him for another moment. “If you tell me it’s so, I believe you. Next time I need help, you’ll be the man I turn to.”
Diver grinned. “I’m grateful.” He hesitated before asking, “What did Sephira do to him?”
“To Tanner, you mean?”
Diver nodded.
“She had one of her toughs cut his throat.”
The blood drained from Diver’s face. “They killed him?”
“No. She didn’t want him dead,” he said, knowing as he spoke the words that it was true. “She wanted to distract me. She figured I would save him. And I did, though only just.” Ethan regarded his friend. “Do you still want to work with me?”
“Aye,” Diver said, though his hand shook as he lifted his ale.
He said something else, but Ethan didn’t hear what it was. A man had just entered the Dowser, one Ethan recognized, though at first he couldn’t remember from where. His face was sallow and thin, his cheekbones high. He had a wispy beard and mustache, and his wheaten hair, straight and shoulder-length, tied back in a plait, looked almost golden in the dim light of the tavern. He was slight and short, and dressed as he was in a brown coat and matching waistcoat, tan breeches and what appeared to be a silk shirt, he looked like a merchant. But the man also wore silver-rimmed spectacles, and it was these that struck Ethan as familiar. After a few seconds, he realized why. This was one of the men who had met with Tanner, and who Ethan had assumed traded in pilfered goods. Tanner had met the stranger in a tavern in the North End, and the two of them had spoken for nearly an hour. Ethan recalled thinking at the time that this fence had to be new to the city. He felt even more certain of this now. He had never seen him before that day in the North End.
The fence stood near the doorway, surveying the crowd in the tavern, his brow creased, his gaze flitting from face to face. For just an instant the man glanced directly at Ethan, his lenses catching the lamplight so that they appeared opaque. In the next moment he looked away, having given no indication that he had recognized him. As he surveyed the rest of the tavern, though, the stranger’s dark eyes widened in recognition. He didn’t move right away, continuing instead to survey the room. But Ethan could tell that this was merely for show.
At last he crossed to the bar and slid a coin onto the polished wood. Kelf handed the man an ale, but said nothing to him, and the stranger turned away without a word. Again he made a show of searching for a place to sit, but when he left the bar he walked directly to where whomever he had seen was seated.
Ethan followed the man with his eyes, hoping that he would also catch a glimpse of the stranger’s friend. This second person, though, was blocked from Ethan’s view by a wooden post. Ethan shifted his chair as subtly as he could, but to no avail.
“Are you even listening to me?” Diver asked, leaning forward to force himself into Ethan’s line of sight.
“No, I’m not. A man just walked in-don’t turn! I saw him with Tanner about a week ago.”
“What was he doing with Tanner?”
“Trying to buy watches, I think.”
“Do you think he came here looking for you?”
Ethan shook his head. “No, I’m not sure he ever saw me. But I want to see who he’s with.” He drained his ale and stood. “Stay here. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”
“All right,” Diver said.
Ethan walked to the bar, squeezing past a crowd of young wharfmen.
“I woulda brought you another ale,” Kelf told him, taking his tankard and refilling it.
“I know. Thank you. I wanted to stretch my legs a bit.”
The barman shrugged and handed him the ale.
Ethan took a sip and turned to lean back against the bar, doing his best to appear relaxed and uninterested. He could see the stranger now, though his back was to the room. Sitting across from him, his face shrouded in shadow, was a large man who looked very much like someone Sephira would hire for his brawn. Ethan didn’t recognize him. He had dark, straggly hair and a broad, homely face. His nose was crooked and a dark scar ran from the corner of his mouth to his chin, so that his face seemed to wear a perpetual scowl.
The two men sat hunched over the table, their heads close together. The big man didn’t seem to be saying much, but he nodded every so often.
After Ethan had watched them for several moments, his curiosity got the better of him. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, drawing blood.
Audiam, Ethan said to himself. Ex cruore evocatum. Listen, conjured from blood.
He felt the blood in his mouth vanish. Uncle Reg appeared beside him and power thrummed like a plucked string on a lute, making the air in the tavern come alive for the span of a heartbeat. No one standing near Ethan appeared to notice-only someone who conjured would. But the bespectacled man stiffened noticeably.
Ethan felt his blood run cold. The man had sensed his conjuring, and already was turning to look for its source. Biting down on his cheek a second time, he whispered a second spell. Abi! Go away! A second pulse made the tavern floor hum. The old ghost shot Ethan a filthy look, and vanished. An instant later the bespectacled man swiveled in his chair, his gaze passing over Ethan.
“What is it?” the big man asked, his voice now reaching Ethan’s ears. “Did you hear-?”