Jimmy tried to hit him again. Ethan jerked his head back out of the way and then struck a blow of his own, hitting the soldier below his eye. Fleming shook off the clout and came at him again. Still bleeding, Ethan didn’t need to cut himself.
“Pugnus ex cruore evocatus,” he whispered. Fist, conjured from blood.
This conjured punch did what Ethan’s fist could not: Jimmy fell to the ground, dazed though still conscious.
Ethan pulled the mullein from his coat pocket and pulled out three leaves, which he held in the curl of his fingers so that Fleming couldn’t see them.
“Quies ex verbasco evocata.” Calm, conjured from mullein.
It was not a spell he had attempted before, though he had once seen his mother use it on a frenzied dog near their home in Bristol back in England. He didn’t know if it would work against the conjuring that had made Jimmy attack in the first place, but he didn’t wish to hurt the lad if he didn’t have to. With the hum of the spell still shaking the cobbles beneath them, Jimmy blinked once and looked up at him.
“I hit you,” the soldier said.
“Aye. I hit you back. Do you remember why you hit me?”
The lad sat up. “I don’t … I was angry. I’m not even sure why. But I was as angry with you as I’ve ever been with anyone.” He stared hard at Ethan. “What did you do?”
“Nothing that I can think of. Do you remember anything else?”
“No. I … I felt that I had to hit you. I knew it.”
“You’re not the first who’s felt that way.” Ethan smiled, then winced. The pup might not have been as strong as Afton or Gordon, but his blow would leave a bruise if Ethan didn’t heal it.
“What’s all this about your sister?” Jimmy asked, sounding groggy. “That’s what we were talkin’ about, right? Before I mean.” He waved a hand absently at the door to the barracks. “Back in there.”
“Aye. It wasn’t really about my sister, but rather about you pinching jewels from the Paxton house.”
Jimmy’s eyes went wide. He tried to get to his feet, but Ethan placed a hand firmly on his shoulder, keeping him where he was.
“You lied to me,” Fleming said. “She’s not your sister, is she?”
“No. I’m a thieftaker. I was hired by Mister Paxton to recover the items you stole. But I thought you’d prefer that I not mention your thieving in front of the other soldiers.”
“I didn’t steal anythin’!”
Any doubt Ethan harbored as to the man’s guilt vanished upon hearing this. Jimmy was a terrible liar. He didn’t argue or challenge the soldier’s denial, but instead continued to watch him and wait.
It didn’t take long for Fleming to sag and drop his gaze. He glanced back into the barracks again, but he no longer appeared likely to bolt. “Did Louisa tell you?” he asked.
“Did she know you had done it?”
Jimmy’s smirk was bitter. “She’s better at this than I am. Of course she knew.”
Ethan rubbed a hand across his brow. “She gave me your name, but she never let on that you were a thief, or that she had any part in what you’d done. At first she protested your innocence, but after some time she did say that you had asked her about the location of different rooms in the mansion.”
A high, gasping laugh escaped the soldier. “I asked?” He shook his head. “I never asked her anything. She told me again and again, like a teacher giving a bloody lesson. I couldn’t get her to stop talkin’ about it until I could recite it all back to her. ‘The mistress’s dressing room is on the south side of the house, past the master’s bedroom.’ That sort of thing.”
“Where are the jewels now, Jimmy? Do you have them in the barracks?”
Jimmy frowned. “Course not. That would be the worst place to keep them. Someone would find them in no time. One cove is always pinchin’ somethin’ from another.”
“Then where did you hide them?”
Fleming’s smile was as thin as a blade. “I didn’t. Louisa did. That was her idea, too. I break in, steal the jewels, and give them back to her for safekeepin’. She said the Paxtons would never think to look in her room. And by the time they did, she’d have taken them elsewhere.”
“Do you have any idea where?”
Jimmy gave a rueful shake of his head. “She didn’ tell me, and I didn’ think to ask. I trusted her; didn’ see any reason not to.”
“Could they still be in the-?”
Ethan felt himself go white. He knew exactly where Louisa had taken the jewels.
Her parents live in the country, Paxton had said. She left yesterday to spend the evening with them; her father, it seems, is elderly and infirm.
Her father was probably as spry as a colt. She had gone to her parents’ home to hide the stolen jewels.
“Where do her parents live, Jimmy?”
“How should I know? You’re the one who claimed to be her brother.”
Ethan offered no response.
“They’re in the country somewhere. She might have told me once, but I don’t remember. None of the towns outside of Boston mean anythin’ to me; their names all run together in my head. I think she said somethin’ about the Middle Road to Dedham, but that’s all I know.”
Ethan knew that he would have to speak again with the girl, which meant another visit to Paxtons’ house. But already there were journeymen standing on the street in front of the rope yard, across the lane from the Paxton house. They were staring toward Ethan and Jimmy. And every one of them held a cudgel. Moreover, Paxton was probably at the Customs House by now, and he had made it clear he did not want Ethan visiting his home when he wasn’t present.
“You should get back in the barracks.”
Fleming climbed to his feet, and following the direction of Ethan’s gaze with his pale eyes, pulled himself up to his full height.
“I can get the others,” he said.
Ethan put a hand on his chest, stopping him from going inside. “No. Go back to where I found you, and play cards. The last thing we need is another fight.”
“They’re the ones who have been causin’ trouble.”
Ethan wasn’t about to get in an argument over which group had been more to blame for the brawling he had witnessed in the last two days, especially since he knew that he himself bore as much responsibility as anyone.
“Just go back to your friends.”
“What’s goin’ to happen to me?” Jimmy asked. “Are you plannin’ to bring the sheriff back here?”
“Mister Paxton hired me to recover the goods you stole. You haven’t got them right now, at least that’s what you tell me…”
“It’s the truth!”
“I believe you,” Ethan said. And he did. Everything Fleming had told him, aside from his initial denial, had the ring of truth to it. “I have an interest in finding what was stolen. When I do that, I get paid. I can turn you over to Sheriff Greenleaf-and I will if it turns out that you’ve been lying to me. But there’s no profit in that. The profit lies in finding those jewels. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Aye,” Jimmy said, sounding wary.
Ethan looked up the road again. At least a half dozen journeymen were walking toward them. “Good. Now get inside.”
Fleming nodded and stepped back into the barracks. Ethan cast one last glance up the road and hurried back toward his room in the South End. He hadn’t gone far, though, when he changed his mind and headed instead to Boston’s Neck and Janna Windcatcher’s tavern. He didn’t wish to put Janna and her establishment at risk, but he had no idea how to combat the conjurings that followed him around the city, and if anyone could help him find a way to defend himself, it was Janna.
The closer Ethan drew to the Fat Spider, the more difficult it became to walk on the icy road. This far out toward the town gate, Orange Street saw relatively little traffic, especially with fewer merchants coming into the city from outlying towns. By the time Ethan reached the tavern, his bad leg ached, and despite the cold he was sweating within his greatcoat.