The young clerk who worked in the shop knelt before a shallow hearth and stirred the fire burning there. It was still chilly within but it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been outside.
Ethan removed his greatcoat, and, with his back turned to the merchant, pulled a few leaves of mullein from the pouch hidden in his pocket.
He had planned to cast a warding spell on the shop door, but now, holding the leaves in the curl of his fingers, he reconsidered. Lillie had gone behind the counter and was readying the shop for a day’s business. Ethan wasn’t sure a warding that allowed patrons to come and go as they pleased would have any effect on those with darker intentions.
Staring out through the filthy windows, he could see that the crowd continued to grow. More, many of the young toughs had positioned themselves closer to the shop and in the middle of the street.
“Sir, you might consider closing for the day.”
Lillie turned. “What? I’ll do no such thing! As I’ve said, you are here-”
“I’m here to protect you and your shop. I believe you would be safer at your home, and I believe that if you were to close, only for today, that mob would count it a victory and would be satisfied. As long as you remain and try to keep your doors open, they’ll stay out there and will do everything in their power to keep customers from your door.”
“I’m not interested in giving them a victory, Mister Kaille. I’m interested in running this establishment as I see fit, without interference from these so-called champions of liberty. Where is my liberty to do as I please with my shop?”
“I understand all that, sir,” Ethan said, trying to keep his tone level. He almost told the merchant that he even agreed with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. He was no longer certain of his own mind; as much as he argued with Kannice and Diver, he couldn’t bring himself to take Lillie’s side, even in a conversation his friends could not hear. “I’m trying to keep you from coming to harm. That is my greatest concern.”
“Then I would suggest that you get out there and see what you can do about clearing the street and allowing me to earn a bit of coin.”
Ethan saw no point in this, although he did see great risk to himself. But Lillie had hired him, and was watching him now, an expectant look on his face.
He left his greatcoat where it was, willing in that moment to trade warmth for greater agility. And as he walked out the door and pulled it closed behind him, he muttered under his breath in Latin, “Tegimen ex verbasco evocatum.” Warding, conjured from mullein.
Uncle Reg appeared beside him, pale to the point of translucence in the bright glare of the snow and clouds.
“Stay with me,” Ethan said in the same low voice. He started toward the nearest cluster of toughs, Reg matching him step for step.
“Are there any conjurers among them?”
The ghost shook his head.
That was a small grace.
“Good day,” Ethan called, raising a hand in greeting as he approached them.
The toughs stared back at him, stony-faced.
“You work for him?” one of the pups asked, nodding toward Lillie’s shop.
“He’s hired me, yes. It’s my job to see to it that his shop is not vandalized and his person not abused.”
The pup grinned. “Looks like you didn’ do too good protectin’ his shop. I don’ suppose you’ll do much better guardin’ ‘his person.’”
The other toughs laughed.
Ethan glanced around. Others were listening to their conversation, eyeing him with manifest hostility. He didn’t wish to trade threats with the lad, but he felt compelled to make some attempt to do as the merchant had asked. “I should tell you that if you molest Mister Lillie’s customers or do anything to keep them from his door, he’ll have no choice but to summon Sheriff Greenleaf.”
“Oh, not the sheriff!” the pup said, feigning terror, and drawing more chuckles from his companions. He sobered. “The sheriff has about as much chance of clearin’ us from the street as you do.”
“The sheriff may bring soldiers.”
The lad smiled again though there was not a hint of mirth in his pale eyes. “Let him.”
Before Ethan could say more, the lad turned away from him. “Are we afraid of the lobsterbacks?” he cried.
The mob replied with a deafening “No!”
He faced Ethan again. “Go back an’ tell your importer friend that he’s free to summon the sheriff, or the gov’nor, or Gen’ral Gage. Hell, he can summon the goddamned king for all we care.”
The other toughs had sidled closer, and they cheered the lad. Ethan knew that if he didn’t retreat now, he might not have another opportunity.
Tipping his hat to them, he said, “Very well. Good day, gentlemen.” He turned and started back to the shop.
“You hear that?” the lad said, laughing once more. “Gentlemen he calls us. Good’ay to you, too, gov’nor!”
They continued to laugh at him, but they let him go, which Ethan counted a small victory.
No sooner had he reentered the shop than the mob began to converge on Lillie’s establishment.
“What did you say to them?” the merchant asked, sounding angry and frightened. He had come out from behind the counter and now stood at the window, marking their approach, his cheeks wan.
“I told them that I was here to keep your shop from harm, and I suggested that they refrain from molesting your customers lest you call the sheriff to disperse them.”
“Apparently you weren’t very convincing.”
Ethan laughed. “Did you truly believe I would be?”
Lillie shot him a filthy look.
The young men were shouting, although aside from hearing “importer,” and “traitor,” and a few other imprecations, Ethan could make out little of what they said. Some of them were also pelting Lillie’s door and window with snowballs and pieces of ice. Fearing that the glass might shatter under the onslaught, Ethan thought about casting another spell. But before he could retrieve more mullein from the pocket of his greatcoat, Lillie said, “What in the Lord’s name is he doing?”
“Who?” Ethan asked, stepping closer to the window.
Lillie pointed.
Gazing in the direction the merchant indicated, Ethan spotted an older man scrutinizing the wooden hand and effigies with a critical eye. He wore a tricorn hat and a bright red cloak much like Lillie’s. He had a kerchief wrapped around his neck and the lower part of his face to protect him from the cold, but still Ethan thought he recognized the man as Ebenezer Richardson, Lillie’s neighbor.
As much as Lillie had made himself an object of scorn among Boston’s Whigs, his unpopularity was nothing compared to that of Richardson. Several years before, Richardson had been exposed as an informer for the Customs Board. He had alerted officials of the Crown to the smuggling of goods, including French wine, by merchants acting in defiance of Parliament. When these merchants, most of whom were Whig sympathizers, attempted to shame Richardson publicly, he was unapologetic. In the years since, he had been employed by the Customs Board in a more formal capacity, which did nothing to improve his reputation. Nor did his habit of referring to himself as “a magistrate” and ordering people about without any real authority to do so.
“He’s going to get himself killed,” Ethan said. Most of the lads had yet to take notice of the man, but when they did he would be in peril.
“Go help him, Kaille,” Lillie said.
“That’s not my job. I have no desire to risk my neck for Ebenezer Richardson.”
“You said it yourself: They’ll kill him.”
Ethan glanced at Uncle Reg, who still stood beside him, his russet glow more pronounced inside the shop. Of course Lillie, who was no conjurer, could not see him. The specter gave a halfhearted shrug.