Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf #1)(63)

As we approached the waterfront, Kate said, “Keep alert. In this district, it’s easy to leave with empty pockets without spending a single copper.”

Here the scent of decay was overpowered by the smells of fish and unwashed bodies and other, less pleasant aromas. The shouts of haggard, sea-weathered sailors intermingled with the cry of gulls circling above. Kate pointed to a building on the eastern side, a manor of glass and gold, that overlooked the docks like a smug emperor. “There’s Dedrick’s place.” She fidgeted nervously. “Time to go. How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” I said gently. “But your mother won’t care. She’ll just be happy to see you.”

Kate gave me a quick hug. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck!” I said, but she’d already disappeared into the crowd.

I approached a stall constructed of gray timbers and old tin, near the ghost of a hard-bitten woman whose expression was a mixture of wary suspicion and open hostility. Small wonder: the back of her head was caved in. She sat on a barrel like a gargoyle, while a girl—?a real girl, of flesh and blood—?manned a display of buckets filled with drooping flowers nearby. I approached cautiously from the angle farthest from the ghost; that was one death I preferred not to see.

“Lovely day, is it not?” I asked the girl.

She gave me a nervous smile. “Perfect day for a daisy, mum, if I do say so meself.”

“So it is. I’ll take a few.” I gave her two silvers—?almost the entirety of my wages from Zan.

She gaped. “No, mum, I can’t accept this. Not for flowers two steps from bein’ compost, curse this blight.”

“Keep it,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth,” she said hesitantly. “Most call me Beth.”

“Beth, I’m trying to find out more about a girl named Molly. She was a housemaid at the castle, and”—?I cleared my throat—?“she recently passed. Did you know her?”

Beth’s expression clouded over. “I knew Molly. She used to sell chocolate and candy from that stall over there.” She pointed across the way. “She was nice. I’m real sorry about what happened to her.”

“They said she got her job as a housemaid to get closer to a man she’d been seeing.”

“I don’t know much about that,” Beth said. “I didn’t know her all that well. We was just friendly.”

“You never saw a man frequent her stall?”

“All sorts of men hung around her stall, miss. It’s the way o’ the docks. Girls like me learn quick how to handle it.” She flashed a gnarly-looking knife tucked into her apron pocket. “Men don’t learn as quick. Takes a few pokes before they get that flowers is the only thing I be sellin’ here.” She paused. “Molly was of a softer spirit. She wasn’t so tough as me. Sold more on account of it, I think. But at what cost?”

“What do you mean?”

Beth fiddled with the coins. “Nothin’, mum. Just that Molly might still be ’ere if she was better at tellin’ the difference between the sheep and the wolves dressed up in their clothing.”

“Beth,” I said slowly, “is there something else you want to tell me?”

She shook her head, maybe a little too quickly. “No. No, mum. Just a little advice, maybe. Fish ain’t been so plentiful as of late, so the fishermen are all in foul temper today. Best steer clear if you want to keep that skip in your step.” She tucked the coins away in her dress. “With the exception of Firth, o’ course. He’s in a fine mood. Caught himself a fugitive last night. There’ll be a bit o’ gold in his future, mark it.”

“A fugitive?” I asked.

“That man that escaped from the king’s gibbets,” she said. “First one ever. Poor bugger didn’t get far, though. Firth found ’is body floatin’ in the water down by the next port. They’ll be bringing it up this way soon, if you want a look.”

“Thank you,” I managed.

The din of the docks, the smells, the bright light of midday, my happy feeling at finding Conrad’s toy . . . all were suddenly dimmed and deadened.

I thanked Beth again and stumbled into the narrow alley between two dockside buildings, where I wrapped my arms around myself. It isn’t Thackery, I told myself. It can’t be Thackery.

But it was Thackery.

I knew it before the body was paraded past like a prize buck, because his spirit preceded it, dripping and bloated, midsection punctured a half dozen times. Thackery was dead, and with him my last hopes of rescue. We regarded each other for a split second, and then he grabbed me. My shriek was lost in the sounds of the dock.

He’d been camped out in the woods. Someone had been following him. He’d heard the breaking twigs, the breathing, and whirled around and around trying to catch a glimpse. I could hear the faintest whisper, I am unseen. I am unseen.

When his follower finally showed himself, it was to press a luneo-cite knife into Thackery’s ribs from behind. Hot breath on his neck. An oily voice saying, “This is your last chance to save your life, old man. The king wants to know who has been selling you those invitations. Was it the same person who let you out of your cage?”

“I can’t say,” Thackery gasped as the knife pressed deeper, breaking his skin.