At least one of the other victims, a young Irish laborer named Patrick Carr, remained grievously wounded; few expected him to survive.
Men and women came to the city from Roxbury, Charlestown, and other nearby communities; the resulting procession dwarfed that which accompanied Christopher Seider to his final resting place. Walking six abreast through the city streets, the mourners bore the coffins from King Street to the Liberty Tree and finally to the Granary Burying Ground.
Though Ethan tried to remind himself that Ramsey’s spells had caused these deaths, he could not help but feel that he, too, was responsible in some small way. Had he discovered sooner the secret to warding his power from the captain’s influence, he might have saved these lives.
He was flanked on the icy lanes by Kannice and Diver, Kelf and Deborah. Kannice held fast to his hand. Deborah supported Diver, who had insisted upon taking part in the procession despite Ethan’s and Deborah’s misgivings.
It was as solemn and momentous an occasion as Ethan had ever witnessed. There were no incidents, no confrontations between mourners and soldiers. But it seemed to Ethan that he and the others participated not merely in a funeral, but in a demonstration of the growing might of Samuel Adams’s movement for liberty. The next time British soldiers take up arms against Boston’s citizenry, they seemed to say by their mere presence in the streets, this is what they will face.
The honored dead were interred in a single vault, beside the grave of Chris Seider. After, Ethan, Kannice, and the others returned to the Dowser and drank a solemn toast to the fallen men.
“I’d like to drink a toast to Mister Kaille as well,” Deborah said, as they stood by the bar. “Were it not for him, Derrey would have been buried today, along with the rest.”
Diver kept his eyes lowered, but nodded as she spoke. Kelf and Ethan shared a glance as the barman said, “Hear, hear,” along with the others.
“Thank you, Deborah,” Ethan said. “But I did it out of selfishness. Diver owes me for more ales than I can count, and I have every intention of collecting.”
Most of them laughed-even Diver managed a faint smile-but once more Ethan’s breath caught, this time at the thought of how close he had come to losing his dear friend.
He was not a religious man, nor a vindictive one. But at that moment he hoped with all his heart that Nate Ramsey was burning in the fires of hell.
Chapter Twenty-six
Ethan left his room on Cooper’s Alley a few days later, bidding a fond farewell to Henry, and promising to visit the cooper whenever he had the opportunity. On March 18, the day after Samuel Adams arranged another massive funeral, this one for Patrick Carr, Ethan and Kannice were married in a humble ceremony before a magistrate at the Town House. Diver and Deborah were there as witnesses, as were Kelf, Henry, and even Janna, who made a point of telling anyone who would listen that she could have seen them wed years earlier if only Ethan had paid her for one of her love spells.
In the days that followed, Ethan tried to make himself useful around the tavern. He certainly was not as fine a cook as Kannice, nor was he as strong as Kelf. But, it turned out, he had some skill with woodwork, and he soon took it upon himself to repair all the uneven tables and squeaky chairs in the great room, which was no small task.
While working on one such chair in the middle of a warm, sunny afternoon later in the month, he heard the tavern door open and close, and then the soft scrape of boot leather on the wooden floor.
“If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
Ethan stood and turned. “Good day, Sephira.”
She had come alone, or perhaps she remembered that Kannice had ordered her toughs from the Dowser the one other time she came to the tavern, and so left Nap, Mariz, Afton, and Gordon in the street.
She looked as lovely as always, her cheeks flushed, her dark curls shining.
“I heard a rumor that you’ve given up thieftaking. Is it true?”
“Aye,” Ethan said. “I’ve given up my room on Cooper’s Alley as well. I live here now. Kannice and I are married.”
“Why, Ethan, how quaint.” Her smile was overly sweet. “You’ve been domesticated.”
“Is there something I can help you with? Or did you come here just to mock me?”
“The latter,” she said, strolling around the great room, eyeing the bar, the tables and chairs, the hearth. “I’m not sure I see the appeal. I suppose it’s a nice enough place; a bit on the shabby side, but charming nevertheless.” She halted not far from where he stood. “But this is not the life for a man like you.”
“I disagree.” He said the words forcefully enough, but he found it difficult to meet her gaze.
“No, you don’t. You know as well as I that you’ll be bored before long. You’ll miss the search for thieves, the fights in the lanes, the satisfaction of finishing a job.” She stepped closer. “You might even miss me.”
He laughed. “You think I’ll miss being beaten to a bloody mess by your brutes? Having my life threatened time and again? Being hounded by Sheriff Greenleaf? You’re mad.”
“So you say now. But mark my word: You’re not the type to be penned and saddled. You’ll be chafing at the halter before long, looking for any excuse to be back in the streets.”
“I don’t think so,” came a voice from behind them.
Sephira’s gaze shifted, and a cruel smile curved her lips. Turning, Ethan saw that Kannice had emerged from the kitchen and now stood behind the bar.
“Congratulations, Missus Kaille,” Sephira said. “Having not been invited to the wedding, I wanted to come by and wish you both great happiness.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Kannice said. “That’s not how it sounded.”
Sephira’s smile deepened. Facing Ethan again, she said, “Though I’m loath to admit it, I know there may be times when I’m presented with jobs that lie beyond my … talents. On those occasions, I may seek you out.”
“What about Mariz? You’ve been boasting for more than a year now that you can match me conjuring for conjuring. Why would you need me?”
“Come now. We both know that Mariz is no thieftaker. I find it convenient having access to magick, but I wouldn’t trust him with an inquiry.”
He knelt beside the chair he had been repairing. “I’m no longer a thieftaker. You’ll have to find help somewhere else.”
“No, you won’t,” Kannice said. “If he can help you he will. For half of whatever fee you’re paid.”
Sephira blinked, then laughed. “Oh, I like her, Ethan. I remember her as fiery, but who knew she could be so shrewd as well. She knows you better than you know yourself. Perhaps I was wrong before. She won’t allow you to grow bored. She’s too smart for that.”
“Shouldn’t you be crawling back under your rock?” Kannice asked.
Sephira stilled, putting Ethan in mind of a wolf. “Have a care, my dear. You may be clever, but no one speaks to me that way.”
Ethan, who still carried his knife on his belt, drew it now and stood once more. “I think you should leave.”
She smiled once more. “Very well. But I’m not through with you, and eventually I’ll lure you back into the lanes. You’ll see.” She cast one last look at Kannice, and sauntered out of the tavern.
“You need to be more careful with her,” Ethan said, watching the door, his blade still in hand.
“I can’t help it; she brings out the worst in me.”
“Oh, I understand. Believe me. But you must never forget how dangerous she is.”
“I know.” Kannice came out from behind the bar and joined Ethan where he stood. “Evil as she may be, she’s right, you know: You are going to get bored.”
“No, I won’t.”
She nodded. “Aye, you will. And that’s all right. If a job comes your way, and you wish to take it, you should.”
“I thought you didn’t want me thieftaking anymore.”
“I don’t. But more than that, I don’t want you to be unhappy, or to feel trapped. And if you say that you’re never going to work in the lanes again, that’s what will happen.”