Thieves' Quarry by D. B. Jackson

Author:D. B. Jackson
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2013-07-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter

THIRTEEN

Kannice’s question occupied his thoughts throughout the night. He slept poorly again, his dreams darkened once more by what he assumed were imagined bursts of power that seemed to reverberate through every bone in his body.

He woke to the first gray light of dawn, feeling more exhausted than he had when he lay down the night before, but knowing that he wouldn’t get back to sleep. The five days Hutchinson had given him were slipping away; he needed to find Simon Gant. After lying awake for several moments, he rolled out of bed, dressed silently, and managed to leave the room without waking Kannice.

His face still hurt from the beating Gant had given him and the skin over his bruises felt tight and tender. The muscles in his back and legs and arms ached. Hard though it was to credit, he knew that he would have felt even worse if he hadn’t cast his healing spell the night before. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was getting too old for thieftaking. Worse, he wondered how he would make a living if ever he decided that in fact he was.

Clouds covered the sky again, heavier than they had been two days before. A stubborn wind blew over the city from the west, carrying the scent of rain and the promise of a cold, dreary day. Ethan made his way back to the Common, where canvas tents blanketed the rolling terrain. The soldiers were up and milling about, and thin tendrils of gray-blue smoke from a hundred cooking fires drifted across the camp.

As Ethan drew near the first of the tents, a regular armed with a musket and bayonet blocked his way, demanding to know what business he had with the king’s soldiers. Ethan told him he had come to see Lieutenant Senhouse, but the man didn’t know the name. When Ethan explained that Senhouse served on the Launceston, the man regarded him with contempt. He might as well have said that Senhouse was with the French army.

“Ya mean he’s a navy man?” the soldier said, his voice high, his words just barely comprehensible through his Irish brogue.

“Didn’t any of the naval officers come ashore yesterday?”

“Look around ya, man. This here’s an army camp. Th’ navy boys are on their ships, an’ good riddance t’ them.”

“What about William Rickman. He’s a doctor, also with the Launceston. But—”

“Ya’d have t’ ask someone else,” the man said.

Ethan stared at the ground, trying to recall the names of the officers he had met at Castle William.

“Preston,” he said, looking up again. “Thomas Preston.”

The soldier’s expression darkened. “Ya mean Captain Preston.”

“Aye, forgive me. Captain Preston. I’d like to speak with him. Please.”

Ethan thought the soldier might refuse. But after staring at him for another few seconds, he turned and started off toward the center of the camp. Ethan followed.

Ethan had remembered the captain’s name, but until he spotted the man standing with several of his regulars, he hadn’t been sure that he would recognize him.

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