The Thorn of Dentonhill (27 page)

V
ERANIX HAD SEARCHED
up and down throughout Aventil, with no luck in finding Kaiana. He even asked shopkeepers and strangers, but no one had seen anyone who looked like her. One man had offered to get him a young Napa girl for twenty crowns. The man backed off when Veranix threatened to thrash him.

His search brought him to the front steps of Saint Julian's Church. Desperate for any kind of guidance, he went inside.

In the first part of the church, through the large wooden doors, was the life-size statue of Saint Julian, depicted as a shield-bearing pilgrim, to protect the innocent as he was said to have done. Theological history was another subject in which Veranix's studies were less than what they should be. Surrounding the statue, scattered and pinned at the base, were tokens of prayers, small wooden carvings or brass figures, representing whatever it was people were hoping Saint Julian or God would help them with. Most of the tokens were in the shape of a heart or a coin: love and money, the most common of prayers. Two old women were kneeling at the base as well, muttering their prayers.

On the other side of the room was a coin box. Veranix went over to it and dropped a half-crown in.

“I don't have a prayer for Saint Julian,” Veranix whispered. “But today is the day of Saint Senea. Look after my friend, Saint Senea. The law is on the side of the man who sacked her, but I don't know a more righteous soul than hers. Please protect her tonight. Intercede on her behalf. Help her to . . . help her, like she has always helped me.”

“Don't see many students in here,” said a man's voice behind him. Veranix startled, and turned to see the priest. Young enough that his face had few lines, and his fair hair hadn't begun to whiten.

“We mostly go to the Campus Chapel, I suppose,” Veranix said.

“Who is the patron saint of that chapel?” the reverend asked.

Veranix had to think for a moment to answer that. “I don't think there is one. It's more vaguely toward all the saints. Students come from all branches of the church.”

The reverend shrugged, as if the idea disappointed him. “Did you come seeking something more specific?”

Veranix glanced back at the statue. “I'm not sure the Humble Prince can help me today.”

“Why did you come here, son?” the reverend asked.

“Looking for a friend,” Veranix said. “I don't know where she is.”

“Perhaps she went home.”

“She lost her home today.”

“So she needs a new one.” The reverend nodded thoughtfully. “You do know we have no sisters' cloister here. You could try Saint Arrianne's in North Colton.”

“I don't think she will take holy orders.” Veranix laughed. “She's not the type.”

“What type is she?” the priest asked.

“Loyal,” Veranix said.

“Loyalty is a pillar of virtue,” the priest said, pointing to the statue. “Saint Julian was most noted for it. Loyalty is often rewarded.”

“Not if you have to be loyal to more than one thing.” Veranix started down the steps.

“Are these loyalties in conflict?” the priest asked.

Veranix stopped, his heart suddenly pounding. “I'm—not exactly. But they don't exactly work together that well either.”

“A man can serve two masters. Or more,” the priest said. “You study several courses at school, yes?”

“Quite a few,” Veranix said.

“And each professor you have considers himself your only master. You must serve each of them.”

“It does seem that way,” Veranix agreed. “But one in particular takes precedence.”

“Of course. When the time comes for you to discover what loyalty takes precedence for you, you will know.” Six bells rang above them. “The hour is late, son. If my knowledge of University rules is correct, you do need to be back by the sunset, yes?”

“Not exactly,” Veranix said. “But I should keep looking for my friend. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” said the priest. “For the donation.”

“The least I can do, Reverend,” Veranix said.

“Then the blessings of God and Saint Julian be with you,” the priest said. He retreated deeper into the church, and Veranix returned outside.

The sky was starting to get dark, but there was still plenty of activity in the streets. Shopkeepers were gathering up their goods, bringing them inside for safekeeping. People were heading home, or to the taverns. Young men were racing about, tacking up sheets of paper along any surface they could stick them to.

Another paper job,
Veranix thought with wry amusement. He wondered if Colin was going through the trouble of showing him further disapproval. He went to look at one of the pages.

Across the top of the page was a picture of a thorn.

He ripped the page off the wall and looked at it closer. It was definitely a message for him. At the bottom of the page was a blue mark, a hand in a circle. The center of the page was a scale, with a bag and a crown on one side, and a figure of a man and a woman on the other.

It clicked in his mind as clearly as if it had been written in plain prose. The Blue Hand Circle, and with them Fenmere, wanted to trade the rope and cloak for someone. Two people, a man and a woman. The rest of the message made it clear that they wanted to meet at the fish cannery at midnight to make the trade.

A man and a woman.

Kaiana.

Deep in his gut, he knew it meant Kaiana. They had figured out his identity, and they knew to take her to get him. Then who was the man? Was it Delmin? Could it even be Colin?

Veranix barely realized he was running, running as fast as he could, back toward campus. He didn't know what he would do. He didn't even have the cloak and rope. He couldn't make the trade.

He bolted past the south gate, past the two cadets at guard with barely a wave. They waved back but did nothing else. He pounded up the walk toward Almers Hall, bursting through the main doors. He charged up the steps, pushing past several people, ignoring a few startled complaints. He didn't listen or care. He didn't stop until he reached his room, where Delmin sat, quietly reading.

“Delmin!” Veranix shouted, his heart leaping up on seeing his friend. He raced over, grabbing Delmin by the shoulders. He looked him over, searching for any signs that he had been hurt. “You're all right?”

“Yes, I'm fine,” Delmin said. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Well, they . . . I thought . . .” Veranix paused for a moment. His head was still racing, still swimming. “Maybe they don't know, then.”

“They don't know what?” Delmin asked.

“They don't know for sure who it is,” Veranix said, half to himself.

“Who what is? What are you on about?”

“They grabbed Kaiana. And someone else, I think,” Veranix said.

“Someone else? Why?”

Veranix showed him the paper. “Two people, male and female. I had thought it was you, if they knew who Kaiana was.” He shook his head. “Then they would know it was me. Who else might they take?”

“Well . . .” Delmin trailed off, looking like he wasn't sure if he wanted to say what he was thinking.

“What is it?”

“I was supposed to meet Professor Alimen at one bell after noon. He wasn't at his office. I had asked around, and no one had seen him. I didn't think much of it, but—”

Veranix nodded, his gut churning. Alimen gone all day couldn't be a coincidence. “I bet that's it. They took him too. They took them both, and they want the rope and the cloak in exchange for their lives.” He wanted to throw up. The two people who had done the most to help him, to protect him . . . they were both in danger now, because of him.

Delmin's eyes went wide, his face lost all color. “Who? That gang boss, what's his name, Fenson?”

“Fenmere. No.” Veranix thought for a moment. “At least, not alone. His thugs couldn't take Alimen.”

“So, who then?”

“The Blue Hand Circle, and that Lord Sirath.”

Delmin swallowed hard. “Lord Sirath? That mage who looks half dead already?”

“Who else could capture the professor?” Veranix asked. Delmin sat down on his bed. He looked like he was going to throw up. Veranix felt the same way. The professor and Kaiana had both put themselves at risk when the Blue Hand was searching for him. He hadn't asked them to, but they both fought to save him.

He had to do the same for them. Whatever it took.

He went to his trunk, opened it up, and pulled out the false bottom. His old gear, including his father's bow, was sitting underneath.

“What are you going to do?”

“I can't leave them,” Veranix said, pulling out his burgundy leather vest and soft boots. “I can't let Sirath hurt them, and I can't let him have the cloak and the rope.”

“Are you sure, I mean . . .”

“Delmin, you saw him. If his natural ability was amplified by the napranium, what could he do? What
couldn't
he do?”

“He'd be . . .” stammered Delmin, growing paler. “I'd say he'd be unstoppable, but he seems pretty unstoppable now.”

Veranix put on the vest and buttoned it up. His father's bow—his bow now—lay wrapped in cloth at the bottom of the chest, with all his father's oils and waxes. He bent down and placed his hand on it. He'd taken care of the bow whenever he had the chance, whenever Delmin wasn't around. It was good that he had, since he didn't have much time to get it ready for action.

“I have to try, though.”

Delmin squatted over next to him. “Try with what, Vee? You think you're going to be able to shoot arrows at someone like Lord Sirath?”

Anger burned through Veranix's skull. “What do you think I should do then? Just leave them?”

“No, no . . .” Delmin said. He put his hand on Veranix's shoulder. “I'm just saying . . . I don't even know what I'm saying.”

“Right,” Veranix said hotly. He strapped on the quiver, and pulled one arrow out. “I just need to take him by surprise. One good shot.”

“You miss, and he'll turn you to dust.”

“I won't miss!” he ranted. “Even if I do, I'll give him dust!”

Delmin suddenly burst out laughing. “What does that even mean?”

Despite his anger, Veranix couldn't help laughing as well. He laughed so hard he lost his balance and fell over. “I don't know,” he said, lying on the floor. “Sweet blessed saints, what a ridiculous thing to even—”

He stopped mid-sentence. He looked at the arrow still in his hand. An idea came to him. It was ridiculous, but it might work.

“That's exactly what I'll do.”

“Exactly what you'll do?”

“Dust,” Veranix said. “That's . . . how I'll get him.”

“Now you really are talking crazy, Vee.”

“No, I . . . I have a plan,” he said. “Delmin, I'm going to need your help, though. I need to find them before they're ready for me. Do you think you could track their
numina
wakes, or Professor Alimen's, and lead me to where they all are?”

“I . . . I don't know, Vee,” Delmin said. He looked nervous again.

“Alimen says you have the sharpest
numinic
senses he's seen.” Veranix hoped that would give Delmin the push he needed.

“I think I could, but . . .”

“Just get me there, Del,” Veranix said, putting his hand on Delmin's shoulder. “I won't put you in any danger.”

“Right,” Delmin said. He knit his brow, “Don't worry about it.” He swallowed hard. “For the professor, I'll walk into any dark pit you do.”

“Good to hear it, mate.” Veranix smiled. He bundled up the bow and arrows in his maroon cloak and charged out the door full of purpose. He crashed into Eittle.

“Watch it, Calbert,” snapped Eittle. He shook his head and stepped away from Veranix, raising his hands up defensively. “Sorry, I just . . .”

“I understand,” Veranix said. He hadn't seen Eittle since Parsons overdosed. “You doing all right?”

“Yeah,” Eittle said. He looked at Veranix and Delmin. “You two going to see it? I wasn't going to at first, but it's so rare, I figured I ought not miss it.”

“See what?” Delmin asked.

“The Winged Convergence,” Eittle said. Veranix and Delmin both gave blank looks. “You know, Namali is full tonight, and at one bell after midnight, it passes in front of Onali, which is at a quarter full waning. So Namali looks like it has white wings.”

“Winged Convergence,” Veranix said, nodding. It took him a moment to remember that “Namali” and “Onali” were the proper academic, Old Imperial names for the Blood Moon and White Moon. “Right, right. Of course. Alimen wants us to see it from Bolingwood Tower, so, that's where we're going.”

“Good place to see it,” said Eittle, managing a weak smile. “You all right, Sarren? You look like you're going to throw up.” Veranix turned to look at Delmin, who was pale and clammy.