The Thorn of Dentonhill (19 page)

Rellings eyebrow went up, and he glanced at the two who found Veranix. “You found him at the bottom of the stairs?”

“We were lucky we found him,” the first guy said.

“They told me I have you to thank for the search party, Rellings,” Veranix said.

“Well, now that's all over. You good to get up there, Calbert, or do you need to go to the hospital ward?”

“Let's try and get upstairs,” Veranix said. “I don't think there's anything wrong with me that won't be cured with a decent night's sleep.”

Rellings took over supporting Veranix from the other two, leading him up the stairs. “Show's over, everyone. Man found, everything's fine. Lights out by the end of the hour.”

Allowing Rellings to help him, but doing his best to keep the cloak situated in a way that Rellings wouldn't touch it, Veranix got to his room. Delmin came right behind them. After a last bit of questioning, which Veranix felt lay somewhere between well-meaning concern and interrogation, Rellings left them both to go to bed.

Delmin waited a few seconds after the door closed to drop his facade.

“What the blazes happened to you tonight?”

“Lost track of time,” Veranix shrugged, hoping that would satisfy Delmin. The look on his friend's face confirmed that wasn't about to happen. “I went out into Aventil. Not to cause trouble, just to get a sense of what was happening in the city. And to get a better sense on how to use this.” Veranix dropped all magical pretenses, the cloak appearing, his uniform cleaning, and his bruises vanishing. Delmin's eyes went wide.

“You . . . you were able to maintain that degree of magical illusion with the cloak on?”

“Pretty amazing, huh?”

“That's . . . that's beyond amazing, Vee.”

“It's powerful, I admit,” Veranix said, taking off the cloak. “I was able to—”

This was all he said before he dropped the cloak on the bed, and the second he let go of it, he felt all of his strength leave his body. He collapsed to the ground, and would have cracked his head open for real if Delmin hadn't been there to catch him.

“Blazes, Vee, what was that?”

Veranix gasped for breath. He wasn't expecting anything like that. He could barely keep his eyes open, keep himself from drifting off into a gray haze. Delmin put him on the floor and went over to his desk.

“I thought something like this might happen,” Delmin muttered as he went into the bottom drawer. “Good thing I'm ready for an emergency.” He came back over to Veranix with an apple and dried lamb.

“I—I—” was all Veranix could say. Delmin forced the food into Veranix's mouth.

“Keep eating, I'll be right back,” Delmin said. He grabbed a pitcher from the bed table and left the room.

Slowly, Veranix chewed and swallowed. Small bits of strength returned to him, and with that he moved his hand back toward the cloak. If he could get his hand back on it, he might be able to—

Delmin returned, and as soon as he saw what Veranix was doing, he rushed over and swatted his hand away. “No, Vee, don't do that. Not yet.” He offered Veranix some water from the pitcher.

“What . . . what is happening?”

“Something I thought might happen,” Delmin said. “You've got to be careful when you use that thing, Vee.”

“Careful how?” Veranix was able to sit up again.

“As in, when you're wearing that, you have no sense of how you're really using your own
numina
. It all feels like a rush, doesn't it?”

“Yeah, but I'm able to control the rush,” Veranix said. “It's not like . . . it's not like
effitte
or something, if that's what you're driving at.”

“No, not like that!” Delmin said. He laughed a little. “You just have to learn how to be aware of how you are drawing
numina
out of your own body when you have that thing on. You had depleted your own strength, and had no idea because of that thing feeding you
numina
.”

“So what you're saying is, just because I have that on, I shouldn't push myself much further than I would without it.”

“Else when you take it off, you fall on your face.”

Veranix pulled himself up onto his bed. With a quick swipe of his hand, he knocked the cloak onto the floor, and then kicked it under the bed. Even that brief contact gave him a surge of
numina,
which then faded as quickly.

“I'm making a mess out of everything, aren't I?”

“Probably,” Delmin said. “At least your marks are still decent, though I don't know how you manage that without studying.”

“That's really what I should be doing, isn't it?” Veranix asked. Saying that opened a floodgate, a rush of anger and remorse that he was too exhausted to hold back. His voice broke with sobs as he went on. “I mean, my father had a safe, happy life in the circus, and because I needed to come here—begged to come here, Delmin—he came back to the one blazing place in Druthal that wasn't safe for him. The least I could do is make sure I learn something.”

Three days. That was all they were going to stay in Maradaine. Get Veranix delivered to the college, do two shows out on the east side, far away from these neighborhoods, and leave. Despite that, Fenmere still found his father and killed him. Then destroyed his mother for good measure.

Delmin watched Veranix quietly. “So what did you learn tonight?”

“Trouble is brewing out in the streets,” Veranix said. “And it might be my fault.”

“Might be?”

“All right, it is my fault. At least, between hitting on Fenmere's dealers and sending the constables onto the Aventil gangs . . . not everyone out there is happy with me.”

“But do they know that you are . . . you?”

“That depends on just how angry Colin is.”

“Who is Colin?”

“Colin is my cousin, and he's one of the Rose Street Princes.”

“You . . . you have a cousin in the street gangs?”

“Do you want to know all about that as well?”

Delmin sighed. “No, I don't. I want to get some sleep.” He pointed a stern finger at Veranix. “I want you to as well.”

“Excellent idea.” Veranix could get on his feet again. He still felt weak as a kitten, but he was able to strip off his school uniform. “Kai told me you went to see her.”

“She did?” Delmin's voice cracked. “She mentioned me?”

“You're wondering why a rope and a cloak?”

“It does seem, you know, specific.”

Veranix shrugged. “Perhaps so. Perhaps they're just the simplest things to do with the
napranium
.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you mentioned before that it's soft. Too soft for weapons or armor, right?”

“Right.”

“So, maybe it's as simple as that. You can't make armor from
napranium
, but you can make a cloak. You can't make a sword, but you can make a rope.”

Delmin scratched at the fuzz on his chin. “Might be just that. Can't shake the feeling there's something I'm missing.”

Veranix shrugged. “Let's sleep on it, and maybe we'll think of something else.”

S
UNRISE CAME TO
Fenmere's home without incident. He rose from his bed and threw on his robe, cautiously waiting for the first bit of bad news to come rushing at him. Thomias wasn't already knocking, so there wasn't any major news.

Fenmere sighed. He had actually hoped there would be some good news. That, perhaps, they wouldn't bother waking him for. He went down to the dining room.

Tea and bread were already laid out on the table, as well as morning presses. As Fenmere sat down, Gerrick came in from the back and joined him.

“Morning, Willem,” he said with a nod of his head. “Sleep well?”

“Somewhat,” Fenmere said after a sip of tea. “Any news this morning?”

“Relatively quiet night,” Gerrick said, pouring his own cup.

“No action from the Thorn?”

“Didn't say that,” Gerrick said. “Though it was . . . different.”

Fenmere was intrigued. Gerrick wasn't usually one for drawing out something for drama.

“Not a hit on the dealers or dens?”

“Not at all,” Gerrick said. “Some of our men had gotten a little . . . overzealous in their questioning of some shop owners on Waterpath.”

“On the Aventil side?” Fenmere asked.

“That was an aspect of their zeal, yes.”

Fenmere nodded. It was best that his men didn't kick up any dust in Aventil, but it was good to remind the gangs over there that they didn't scare him.

“Did they draw any heat?”

“A scuffle with some Rose Street Princes.”

“So what about the Thorn?”

“The Thorn, apparently, showed up in the scuffle and sided with the Princes.”

Fenmere scratched at his beard. “Where was this scuffle? Waterpath and Rose?” Gerrick nodded. “So you think the Thorn is a Prince?”

“Possibly,” Gerrick said. “From the reports our men gave, the Princes were just as surprised by his appearance. Then constabulary broke it up.”

“Really?” Fenmere asked. Thomias came in with a plate of eggs and fruit and put it front of Fenmere. “I'm surprised they even bothered.”

“There's a new lieutenant in charge of the neighborhood, and it appears that the Hallaran's Boys are getting more aggressive with University—”

“Yes, yes,” Fenmere said, taking a bit of eggs. “We don't need to worry about that, other than it keeps the Aventil gangs distracted and divided.”

Gerrick pulled a few papers out of his coat. “The Princes, and the rest of Aventil gangs, are united on one thing. They all worked through the night to disavow the Thorn.” He placed the papers in front of Fenmere. All of them slips from paperjobs, all variations on the same theme.

“These are all over Aventil?”

“Mostly on Waterpath,” Gerrick said slyly. “For what it's worth, they're practically falling over themselves to let you know that they do not ally themselves with him.”

Fenmere liked that, a smile pulling at his mouth. “They're afraid of what I'll do to them. Good.”

“Of course, sir, we aren't any closer to retrieving the two items that the Blue Hand ordered.”

Fenmere shrugged. “That's important, of course. We don't want to be seen as men who don't fulfill their bargains.”

“But?” Gerrick asked.

“But if they don't get their merchandise in time to do whatever magical, mystical thing they want to do, frankly, I couldn't care less.”

Gerrick frowned. “It took a lot of work to form the bond we have with the Blue Hand Circle. I'm not happy with them, but what they can give us still exceeds the usual mage for hire.”

Fenmere scowled. Gerrick was right. “Especially if this Thorn is a mage. Are we set for the Three Dogs at the drop tonight?”

“Everything is arranged, sir,” Gerrick said. “That is, of course, presuming he'll show.”

“He'll show. I've got a hunch that, when you boil everything down, what he's about is coming after me and the
effitte
trade. He's not with an Aventil gang, I can tell you that.”

“You're sure, sir?”

Fenmere nodded. “Look at what he's doing, Gerrick. He's drawing heat to Aventil, and he clearly doesn't care what that does. Aventil gangs are a pain in the neck, but if there's one thing they have in common, they're all fiercely loyal to protecting the little patches of nothing they all have. This Thorn, he's a different sort than them.”

“If you say so, sir,” Gerrick said.

“I'm well rested today, Gerrick. A good night's sleep clears the mind wonderfully.”

Veranix had slept fitfully, plagued with dreams of Colin telling him to get out of Aventil, his mother lying immobile on the ground, Nevin smashing his head against the wall. In the morning Delmin told him that if he had bothered studying, he'd know that intense nightmares tended to accompany the exhaustion of overdraining
numina
.

Morning breakfast was filled with gossip and drama, as people talked about Veranix being found in the basement, and how some kid on the fourth floor swore he saw an
ashaya
in the water closet. Many people came up to Veranix and Delmin and asked them if
ashayas
were real or just old Waish legends. Delmin fell back on his usual answer of “There's no proof, but there's plenty of anecdotal evidence.” Veranix thought that was a polite way of saying it was a stupid old legend.

Veranix couldn't skip any of his classes today. He had been given more than enough latitude the day before, and he couldn't push any further without causing trouble to his academics. That didn't stop him from taking the journal with him to his classes to break its secrets.

The process of decoding the journal was painstaking and time-consuming, converting strings of numbers into letters. Veranix felt it was worth it; the intelligence he was getting about Fenmere's
effitte
operation was priceless. He learned about drop points, names of runners and sellers. Even if Nevin got his throat slit for failing, the basics of the operation wouldn't change, not that much.

Morning Magic Theory class gave him very little opportunity to work on decoding. Professor Alimen was on a tear about the
numinic
conductivity of gemstones and other minerals. Veranix tried to take a few notes, while focusing properly on the journal, figuring Delmin's memory trick about singing robins could get him through any exam. But then Alimen started writing numbers on the slateboard and doing mathematics. Not just sums and differences, but real, intense mathematics. With symbols Veranix didn't even recognize. Everyone else was copying notes and asking questions—Delmin was fearfully engaged—and a deep panic set in Veranix's stomach. This was going to be on end of term exams, and he didn't understand it in the slightest. Veranix shoved the journal into his coat pocket and started copying everything on the slateboard into his own notebook.

“Did you understand that?” he asked Delmin as they left the lecture hall.

“For the most part,” Delmin said. “Though there were some equations I'm going to have to practice with.”

“Equations?” Veranix asked. “Am I going to have to memorize those or something?”

“Probably,” Delmin said. He must have seen the panic on Veranix's face, as he patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, you'll pass the exams. I'll get you through it.”

“Thanks,” Veranix said. Though between taking that exam and another brawl with Nevin, Veranix would rather take the fight. There he'd have a chance. If he learned more from Nevin's journal, he might get the chance. “I'm going to skip lunch.”

“Not even,” Delmin said, grabbing Veranix by the lapel of his coat. “I don't think you understand the kind of damage you've been doing to yourself. You can't skip any meals.”

“But—”

“No!” Delmin pulled Veranix toward Holtman. Lowering his voice, he added, “I swear, if you worked on studying half as much as you've put into that journal, you'd have full honors.”

Veranix ate as fast as he could, and despite Delmin's disapproving looks, went back to working on the journal. He reached a portion regarding the
effitte
delivery drops. Dates, times, and places. This he had to get decoded.

“You're not skipping history,” Delmin said.

“I'll come,” Veranix said. “But I may need to borrow your notes afterward.”

Delmin all but pulled Veranix to the afternoon history lecture, where he pretended to take notes on the reign of Cedidore II, a king mostly known for his utter insanity, while decoding the journal. Professor Besker droned on about Quarantine and the Druthal Wall. Veranix remembered the circus performed next to the Druthal Wall, as going along the Sauriyal Canal was part of their usual travel circuit. The wall was nothing, a decayed pile of stone.

He realized he was transcribing notes about a drop that was going to happen. He looked back at what he had written out to confirm. The drop was tonight at one bell after midnight, for one thousand crowns' worth of
effitte.

“One thousand?” he whispered in surprise.

“One thousand what?” asked the student next to him. He looked down at his own notes in panic, as if he had missed a key point.

“Nothing,” Veranix said. “I just . . . nothing. Never mind.”

“Shh,” Delmin whispered. He gestured to Professor Besker, who had paused briefly to note the disturbance Veranix had caused. Veranix smiled and gave a show of attention.

“Opiska was freed, though mostly out of convenience,” Professor Besker went on. “The final piece finally broken off the shattered kingdom. Cedidore II willfully completed the work that Shalcer began out of incompetence.”

Veranix scowled. It was a huge drop. He couldn't figure out how much
effitte
that would actually mean, and then back to the street value of it. Hundreds upon hundreds of doses. Hundreds of people who wouldn't get their brains melted. Hundreds of lives saved.

Nevin was still alive, though, and he must know Veranix had the journal. He'd cancel the drop, for sure. Or be ready for Veranix. It'd be a huge risk.

But if he didn't cancel the drop, and Veranix stopped it, it'd be one thousand crowns out of Fenmere's pocket.

That was reason enough to risk going out there.

He just needed to know where “out there” was, exactly. Last part to decode.

Veranix went through, checking each letter carefully. O-s-c-a-n-a-p-a-r-k. Oscana Park. Made sense. North side of Dentonhill, relatively close to the docks, and far from any prying eyes that mattered. On the off chance Constabulary did catch someone, it was public property. Nothing to tie to Fenmere.

Oscana Park was a big place, though. More letters. S-t-a-t-u-e-o-f. Statue of someone. The park was full of statues. N-i-y-o-l-c-d-w-s. Niyolcdws? That didn't make any sense. Veranix checked through the last letters again. N-i-y-o-l-c-a-r-m.

“Niyol Carm.” Veranix said upon completion.

“What did you say, Mister Calbert?” Professor Besker's full attention was on Veranix. As was the rest of the class. Besker tapped his walking stick impatiently while glaring up at Veranix.

Veranix's mind went completely blank. No suitable lie came to him. So he just told the truth. “I . . . uh, I said Niyol Carm.”

“Niyol Carm?” Besker's eyebrow went up. “Is there a reason you are a full seven and a half centuries behind the rest of us?”

“It was . . . just something that crossed my mind.”

“Yes, well join us in the part of history that we are studying today. The year we are on is 765. What is the era we are discussing, Mister Calbert?”

“The, um, Centuries of Darkness and Light?”

“An answer I find far too poetic for my taste, Mister Calbert. It would be correct if you were taking a Literature course, but sadly, you are not. We are in the Shattered Kingdom, Mister Calbert, specifically the Possession Wars. And in 765, who is the king of Druthal?”