The Thorn of Dentonhill (8 page)

“As is our legal right,” Colin said. “We provide little services around the neighborhood, and people pay us as they see fit.”

“Swindle and scare people—”

“Protect the people, friend.”

“You're just common crooks!”

“Better than a common tanner!” Hetzer shouted, and the others laughed.

Wylon ignored them and moved closer to Jutie, his eyes imploring. “It's not safe out here, Juteron.”

“Not safe?” Jutie asked. He was boiling with rage, but all that came out of his mouth was laughter. “Wylon, how many accidents you see on the kill floor, eh?” Wylon's gaze dropped to the ground, he said nothing. “At least out here, I've got a fighting chance, hmm? I've got people at my back.” He held up his tattooed arm into Wylon's face.

“Jutie's got plenty of brothers, friend,” Hetzer said.

Wylon stepped back from the corner, still not looking up from the ground. With a nod, he finally said, “The family would still love to see you, Juteron. Anytime.”

“Maybe we'll all drop by for supper sometime,” Colin said.

Wylon glanced up at Colin, and turned away. He quickly mounted his pedalcart and rode off down the street.

“Honest work,” Colin muttered.

“I'll give him honest work,” Hetzer said. He took a few steps into the street yelling after Wylon. “Spend a couple days on Rose Street, you'll see some honest work!”

“Settle down, Hetzer,” Colin said.

Hetzer laughed, jumping in the street, and came back over to Colin. “Hear someone gave it to Fenmere real good last night.”

“Somebody hit him on the docks, that's what we hear. Big shipment.” Colin growled out the words. Jutie didn't get why Colin seemed so displeased with the whole thing.

“Blazes!” shouted Hetzer. A shop owner sweeping off his stoop glared over at them, and then turned back into his shop. “That's brilliant, Colin. That's what people should be doing. Hitting that bastard where it hurts him!”

“Is that why you're crowing?” Jutie looked across the street to see who called out to them. It was a group of Knights of Saint Julian, including the trash who was giving him trouble before. These guys looked like they had already been through the thrasher once: bloody heads, black eyes, torn clothes.

“Damned right,” Hetzer yelled back. “You Knights got a problem with that? You do, you shouldn't be on our corner!”

“Well, our corner just had a pack of Fenmere's goons looking for his merch!” The Knight captain led them, stepping off the walkway into the street.

“This becoming a thing in the middle of the day?” Tooser asked.

“Blasted well looks that way,” Colin said. “You Knights better get back on your block, you hear?”

“Our block has Fenmere, Princes. So now
your
block has Knights.”

Hetzer was now halfway across the street, closest to the group of Knights. “Hey, Jutie,” he called out. “Which one of these was giving you the eye before?”

Jutie pointed over. “The one with the dark vest to match his eye.”

Hetzer drew out a knife, pointed it casually at that Knight. “He's claiming you, friend. Unless you head on home.”

Tooser and Colin stepped off the corner, and Jutie followed them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few more Princes coming out of the flop over the Turnabout. The Knights were going to be badly outnumbered if they pushed.

“Maybe we should—” one of the Knights said.

“Don't think Fenmere's just gonna hit us, Prince,” the Knight captain said. “If he's on our block, he'll be on every block.”

With that, the Knights backed off down Vine.

Hetzer snickered and turned back to the corner. “Blazes of a day, ain't it, cap?”

Jutie looked over to Colin, who shoved his knife back in his coat and stalked off.

Crossing his way over the lawn to Alimen's office, Veranix glanced at the south wall of the campus. The wall was low here, made of crumbling stones. One could easily see over it, where there was a line of trees, and Lilac Street on the other side.

One of the trees had two cloths tied around a low branch, a red one and a white one. Most people, passing in a hurry across campus, wouldn't notice them. Even if anyone did notice them, they wouldn't think anything of them.

Veranix knew exactly what they meant. The white cloth was a signal from Colin, letting Veranix know that they had to talk.

The red cloth meant Colin was angry.

Colin was going to have to wait until lunchtime, though. After dozing off in lecture yesterday, Veranix couldn't miss a practical. Professor Alimen wouldn't stand for that, no matter how much he liked Veranix.

Alimen's office was at the top of Bolingwood Tower, as were his personal apartments. It was the traditional place for the University's Egracian Chair, the position Alimen held as the head of the Magic department at U of M. It held quite a bit of prestige, even if the department only had two other faculty, and at most twenty students at any given time. Bolingwood was the tallest building on campus, which meant that Veranix had to race up seven flights of steep stone stairs to reach the office.

“Only five minutes late, Mister Calbert,” Professor Alimen said. “For you, that's something impressive.” Alimen was not alone when Veranix entered. Two other men were in whispered conference with him. Despite being here for his appointed time, Veranix had the distinct impression he was interrupting something.

“My punctuality would improve if we held lessons on the ground floor, Professor.” Veranix gave his best winning smile.

Alimen chuckled warmly. “The stairs help keep my students in top condition. You're the only one who comes in here not winded, Mister Calbert.”

“I must be living right, sir,” Veranix said. The two men were looking at Veranix with dark, disturbing eyes. Veranix didn't like them at all. “If you're indisposed, Professor, I could return later.”

“Nonsense. These gentlemen are here to observe the lesson. This is Wells Harleydale, from the Circle of Light and Stone and on my right is Fenrich Kalas, from the Blue Hand Circle.” The two men couldn't be more different. Harleydale, despite his age, wore little more on top than a garish yellow vest, so the lighthouse tattoo on his chest was plainly visible. His hair was a wild mop of gray curls. He would have fit right in with the clowns from the circus. Kalas, though, was dressed in a deep blue gentleman's suit—an expensive one, with silver clasps on the jacket and waistcoat—including matching gloves and coach hat. His dark hair was cropped short, and he sported a disturbingly tiny mustache. Veranix found both of them disturbing.

Veranix buried those feelings and straightened his posture, reaching out to shake hands with the two men. “Veranix Calbert,” he said. “It's an honor to meet you both.” Harleydale returned Veranix's handshake with warm vigor, but Kalas acted as if the physical contact was an imposition he had to endure. A memory sparked, and he turned to Harleydale. “Light and Stone. You were involved in—”

“The Circle Feuds a few years ago,” Harleydale finished for him. “A most regrettable incident.”

“Series of incidents,” Professor Alimen said under his breath. That was still selling it softly. In 1212, five different Mage Circles, all over the city, fought in the streets. Viciously. Savagely. Mages weren't the only casualties, as plenty of bystanders were also killed.

Veranix bit his lip to keep from saying anything. It was almost laughable. No brawl between the Rose Street Princes and the other Aventil gangs had ever had that much collateral damage. From what Veranix could gather, not even in 1194, when Fenmere rolled the whole neighborhood and Aventil fractured—not even then did innocent people get badly hurt. Yet Colin and his Princes were hounded, and Mister Harleydale and other Circle members walked about unmolested.

“Really, Alimen,” Kalas said, his voice full of open contempt, shaking Veranix out of his reverie. “This is your top student? I don't see anything about his aura that impresses me that much.” Veranix's eyebrows went up at hearing that.

“Top student in practical exercises,” Alimen said. “Quite remarkable when it comes to practical application. His study of theory . . . still requires attention.”

“Hmph,” Kalas said. “As does his punctuality. Perhaps I should have just gone to the Royal College of Maradaine, instead.”

“If you wish, Kalas,” Alimen said. “I was simply giving you the courtesy of meeting Mister Calbert.”

“Your courtesy overwhelms,” Kalas said. “I thought you had a gifted bloodhound in your stable as well.”

“I have a student who has exceptional talent in sensing
numina
,” Professor Alimen said. Veranix could hear him gritting his teeth as he said it. “But he is explicitly bonded to another Circle already.”

“Pity.”

Veranix thought the professor must have been talking about Delmin, but he wasn't promised to any Circle yet. Was he just flat-out lying to keep Kalas away from Delmin? Veranix could hardly blame Alimen for that.

“Where do his strengths lie?” Harleydale asked. He was walking around Veranix, looking him up and down as if inspecting a horse he would buy.

“Practical innovation.” Veranix held up his chin high. If these mages wanted to check him out, he'd give them his best.

“True,” Alimen said. “Mister Calbert has been quite clever in how he shapes magic.”

“He has good tone,” Harleydale said, groping Veranix's shoulder.

“Thank you, sir.” Veranix thought this disturbing. He didn't know he was going to get pawed over by anyone today.

“Yes, well,” Alimen said. “Perhaps we should begin, yes? I thought we would do the Vase Exercise.” Veranix was confused. Alimen appeared to be showing him off to these two, but the Vase Exercise was one of his worst.

“If you say so, sir,” Veranix said.

“I really don't need to see that,” Kalas said. He went to the door.

“I guess I'm not being recruited by him, then,” Veranix let slip.

“The Blue Hand Circle does not recruit,” Kalas said from the door. “We invite. Exclusively.”

“Must be very exclusive. I've never heard of you.”

“Veranix!” Professor Alimen said sternly.

“We do not need to shout our name,” Kalas said. “A whisper will do. Good day, Alimen.” He left the office.

Alimen let out a deep exhale. “What a horse's ass.”

“I wasn't going to say it,” Harleydale said. “I've never liked him.”

“I was about to say it,” Veranix said.

“You shouldn't, Mister Calbert,” Alimen said. “Blue Hand is a very small Circle, but they are powerful.”

“Couldn't prove it by me,” Veranix said.

“Your professor means they have a lot of money, young man,” Harleydale said. “Money makes the University pay attention to them.”

“I was just being polite,” Alimen said. “I was surprised as anyone he came out here.”

“I'm just glad he's gone,” Harleydale said. “If you ask me, the Blue Hand are especially odious. A little boys club, if you get my drift, and they all nearly worship their leader. Disturbing man. I only met him once and it was two times too many.”

“Wells, let's not be petty.”

Harleydale sighed dramatically. “As you wish. Are you ready, Mister Calbert?”

“Of course, Mister Harleydale. I'm more than happy to demonstrate my skills to you, but—and correct me if I'm wrong, Professor—I'm pledged to Lord Preston's Circle.” And he was more than happy to keep things that way. He didn't understand much of anything about Circle law or politics, or how that allowed Harleydale's Circle of Light and Stone to not face any charges after the Circle Feuds. That was the whole point of Lord Preston's. They were strictly academic, and stayed neutral in any sort of Circle politics.

“Not exactly pledged. Nothing is official until induction.”

“Which can't occur in any Circle until after I get my Letters of Mastery,” Veranix said, ignoring the implications of what Professor Alimen said. He didn't even want to think about what might or might not happen after receiving his Letters. “That is still over a year away.”

“At least, if not more,” Alimen said pointedly.

“Then, forgive my impertinence, but . . . why are you here, Mister Harleydale?”

“Light and Stone want to know who to have their eye on early. Like the Blue Hand Circle, we are small, and we are not in a position to place potential students in the Universities with a pledge for later induction. We are not a moneyed Circle like Lord Preston's.” He gave a knowing smile to Alimen.

“We invest in the future, old friend,” Alimen said, smiling back.

“Would that we could as well, Gollic,” Harleydale said. That was the first time Veranix had heard anyone use Professor Alimen's given name. “Please, continue with your lesson as if I were not here.”