He pulled the door open and entered, but then halted inside the door so that his eyes might adjust to the dim light of the tavern. Before he could see well enough to spot Janna, he heard her speak his name, drawing it out like an imprecation.
Ethan could barely make out the details in the great room. A fire burned in the hearth, and about a third of the tables in the tavern appeared to be occupied. Janna stood near the bar, a cloth in one hand, her other fist set against her hip.
“Well, come on,” she said. “You’ll want an ale an’ a bowl of stew, an’ the answers to a whole lot o’ questions. Isn’ that right?”
“It is.”
He crossed to the bar, pulling off his greatcoat as he did. Janna disappeared into the kitchen only to return again a few seconds later bearing a steaming bowl of stew. It smelled of cinnamon and pepper and made his mouth water. Only now did he remember that he had eaten nothing all day.
He made quick work of that first serving and asked Janna for a second rather sheepishly. She retreated to the kitchen to refill the bowl.
“Where you been now that you’re so hungry?” she asked after placing it in front of him again. “Ain’t your woman feedin’ you?”
“I stayed away from her tavern last night,” Ethan said, keeping his voice low. “To be honest, I was afraid to come here.”
“Why?”
“Do you remember what we talked about the last time I came?”
“Those spells you was feelin’, the ones that made other people act crazy.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ve been feelin’ a lot of conjurin’s the past few days. I assumed they were yours.”
“Some of them have been, but not all. Not nearly.”
“That conjurer still messin’ with you?”
“Everywhere I go. Have people here been talking about the brawl at Gray’s Rope Works?”
“The one yesterday?”
“Aye. There was another one today. I have a new client who lives across the street from the ropewalks. Those spells caused the brawls. Several days ago, I was almost stabbed by a laborer on Long Wharf, and yesterday two men attacked me in the Crow’s Nest.”
“And it was spells that did it each time?”
“Aye.”
“So you came to ask me questions.”
Ethan ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Janna. I’ll pay for the food and ale, of course. And I can pay you as well for whatever you can-”
She laid a slender hand on his arm and shook her head.
“Not for this. You’re in trouble.”
“Thank you.”
“You already tried to see the spell color, right?”
“Yes, several times. But whoever is doing this has hidden it well. Yesterday, I warded myself, and that seemed to work for a while. But then the conjurer cast a different spell, or a stronger one, and overcame my warding.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Your wardin’?”
Janna straightened and indicated with a small, sharp gesture that he should follow her back into the kitchen. He walked around the bar and joined her in the small space. It was warmer here, and the aroma of her stew was far stronger.
Janna sat on a low stool near the cooking fire while Ethan perched on an old wine barrel.
“Now, what’s this about a wardin’? Wardin’ yourself from what?”
“From the conjurings,” Ethan said. “I came to ask if you know of any way to keep another conjurer from using your power against your will?”
“So, are you tellin’ me that these spells are comin’ from you?”
“Aye. Every time one is cast, my ghost appears.”
“But you’re not castin’ them?”
“Of course not.”
She exhaled through her teeth, the breath coming out as a low hiss. “Damn, Kaille. That’s not good at all.”
“Has anything similar ever been done to you?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve heard other folks tell of it, but I ain’t never even known anyone who had it done to them. You say your wardin’ worked for a while?”
“It worked once,” Ethan said, his gut knotting. “Whoever is casting these spells tried something different and ripped through my warding like it was parchment.”
Janna pursed her lips, her dark eyes trained on the fire. “Maybe the last time we talked I was too quick to say it’s not Ramsey.”
Rather than frightening him more, this admission on Janna’s part came as some small relief. At least he wasn’t the only person to sense the captain’s scheming in these conjurings.
“He can find me anywhere-at least that’s how it feels. I think he might have other conjurers working for him.”
“That sounds like Ramsey.”
“He has me hiding in my room, Janna. I’m afraid to go anywhere lest I start another brawl or get someone else killed.”
“You didn’ get anyone killed!” she said, her tone fierce. “And you didn’ start any brawls either. That’s Ramsey’s doin’. Or whoever is castin’ these spells. It ain’t your fault, and thinkin’ it is, well that’s what Ramsey wants.”
Ethan knew she was right. “How do these spells work?” he asked. “How can he have access to my power without my knowing it?”
“Usually, for magicking like this, he would need to have somethin’ of yours. Best is somethin’ from you-a lock of hair, a bit of your blood. Failin’ that, he might have a piece of clothin’ or somethin’ that belonged to you. Anythin’ that he can use to connect to you and your conjurin’ power. After that, it’s a matter of knowin’ the right words, that’s all.”
“I was unconscious on his ship last summer-I don’t know for how long. But he could have taken anything from me.”
“Sounds like he did.”
“Can I stop him?”
“I would have told you to ward yourself. If that ain’t strong enough…” She shrugged. “There’s other kinds of wardin’ spells. You might wanna try some of them.”
“I don’t know them.”
“Well, it’s time you started learnin’ more advanced spells. You can guard yourself from all sorts of magick. Like I say, it’s just knowin’ the words.”
Ethan nodded, although he had no idea where to start looking for new spells to cast.
Janna leaned forward and patted his knee. “It’s all right, Kaille. I’ve got some books you can borrow. You might find somethin’ in them.”
“Thank you, Janna.”
“What bothers me is not knowin’ for sure if it’s Ramsey.” She shook her head. “I never learned to hide my power that way-don’t suppose I ever needed to. But you’re sure that you’re doin’ your reveal spells right?”
“Aye, that spell I know. There was no residue on Richardson after he shot the boy or on Sephira’s man after he beat that lad who had robbed Josiah Wells.”
Janna winced, shaking her head once more and clicking her tongue. “Of course there wasn’t. He’s castin’ these spells on you. That’s where the color should be. On you.”
“No,” Ethan said. “I cast a revela spell on myself as well, after another conjurer used a finding spell against me. It revealed the residue from his spell, but nothing else. Believe me, Janna. If Ramsey’s power had left a mark on me, I’d have noticed it. I know that color as well as I know my own.”
“Let me try.”
“But if my spell-”
“Be quiet and cut yourself,” Janna said.
Ethan drew his knife, his pulse pounding, his stomach tight. He dragged the blade over his forearm, and as blood flowed from the wound, he dipped his finger in it and drew a line across his brow and down the bridge of his nose, over his chin, to his breastbone.
“Revela omnias magias ex cruore evocatas,” Janna said. Reveal all magicks, conjured from blood.
Her spell sang in the wood walls and the stone hearth, and her ghost, a glowing blue image of an old African woman, appeared beside her. A wash of cool air swept over Ethan’s face as the blood vanished, and Janna took a quick, sharp breath.
He didn’t want to look down, but what choice did he have?
His first reaction was one of revulsion-he imagined that this must have been how a smallpox victim felt upon noticing the first pustules of the distemper on his chest.