The Alchemy of Chaos: A Novel of Maradaine (Maradaine Novels)

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “No,” Laira said, biting her lip. After an awkward pause, she sighed. “It was a family with a little girl. I’ve heard nothing about a puppy.”

  “I paid you for this?”

  “I am fully reimbursing you Blackbird’s portion of the fee, regardless of the rest of the outcome.”

  Gerrick spoke up. “I presume you have taken steps to prevent this sort of thing from happening.”

  “Steps?”

  “Removed this Blackbird from your employ, perhaps with some permanence?”

  “I’m not one to waste resources like that. However, she is currently incapacitated from her encounter. So, in addition to your reimbursement, I will keep Bluejay on the hunt for the remaining two days, as agreed, and at no further cost, I will assign Magpie to join her.”

  “Magpie?” That didn’t sound especially lethal.

  “Don’t worry, Willem. She doesn’t have any moral code at all.”

  “I trust in your judgment, Laira. I wished everyone in this business handled failure with your grace and professionalism.”

  “Then if I have your leave?”

  Fenmere gave a signal to Thomias to take her to the door, and gave a final exchange of pleasantries before she went.

  “Can someone tell me why this isn’t a disaster?” he asked as soon as she was gone.

  Bell trepidatiously raised his hand.

  “Yes, speak already.”

  “The whole business did create a mess in Aventil, including a near riot among most of the gangs. Knights and Rabbits, mostly, but everyone was in the mix. Plus that stampede. People are saying the Thorn caused it.”

  “He caused it?” Fenmere asked. “I mean, we know he’s a mage, but he caused a stampede? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Is it possible?”

  Gerrick and Corman shrugged. “I suppose when magic’s involved, anything is,” Corman offered.

  “Even magic has its limits, Corman.” Fenmere made a mental note to look into the options for new magical allies, now that the Blue Hand were gone. Preferably some who didn’t have the same mad agendas as the Blue Hand. Pure, boring mercenary mages-for-hire were all he wanted. The Firewings were looking promising.

  Bell spoke up again. “That’s just what some people are saying. Including the sticks in Aventil.”

  “Well, that is some good news. Whatever happened, his support there is wavering. Anything else, Mister Bell?”

  “Yeah, well, between the two events with the Thorn, no one from the Rabbits has delivered on the money they owe us. I thought I should pay them a visit now, perhaps with some additional muscle.”

  “Agreed,” Fenmere said. The whole business with the Rabbits was little more than ruse, but even as a ruse, appearances must be maintained. The last thing he needed for that was for anyone, especially the Rabbits, to think they could get away with skimping him. “Take a few of the boys from the cannery. But be discreet. No need for a big show of crossing Waterpath this time around.”

  “The open glove before the knucklestuffer?”

  “This time, yes.”

  “Like the sound of that,” Bell said. The man was probably frustrated with his role of watchdogging the Thorn. Baiting the Thorn.

  “Well then, be about it.” Fenmere waved Bell away, who wasted no time making himself scarce.

  Thomias returned with tea. Fenmere sat back and sipped at it while looking at Gerrick and Corman. “So, what else is there to worry about? I’m not thrilled about the failure of this—Blackbird?—but we’re getting our money back, and it sounds like a fair amount of chaos was wreaked throughout Aventil.”

  “And Inemar,” Gerrick said.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “The stampede went through Aventil, down Waterpath, then along Lowbridge until it crashed into the bridge itself. Fatalities were surprisingly low.”

  “And the Thorn is being blamed for this?”

  “Not in any official capacity that I can tell,” Gerrick said. “We don’t have many contacts in Constabulary offices outside the neighborhood, but from what we’ve determined, it’s more whispers and implications. Mind you, outside of Aventil, most authorities are unconcerned if the Thorn is a real person or not.”

  Corman added, “In Aventil there are at least a few on the Constabulary who wish to throw the Thorn in Quarrygate.”

  Fenmere mused. “I can’t decide if I would find that satisfying.” There was something pleasant to the idea of the Thorn being captured, unmasked, and thrown in a deep hole. It would certainly break the spirit that had been building in Aventil since he emerged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was connected to the Rabbits, and all this action against them is so much theater.”

  “There is another matter,” Corman said. “It ties to the new chemist.”

  “Is he asking for more time and materials again?” After months of searching they seemed to have found someone who could master the Poasian process of distilling the sap of the effitssa plant into effitte. If it wasn’t for the processing aspect of the drug—a secret his Poasian contacts kept tight—he would have been growing effitssa in hothouses right here in Druthal, and been able to make effitte without having to worry about further smuggling operations. Not to mention, there would be no need to keep playing nice with his Poasian partners over in the islands.

  This chemist—a wiry nebbish named Cuse—seemed capable enough, though he kept making excuses and delays. In his favor, he had been able to make a version of effitte that Fenmere’s experts agreed was high quality, even if the color was wrong. Unfortunately, making it also cost ten times the amount he could sell it for. Cuse swore that with a bit more time he could get the cost down, but he needed further raw materials for his research.

  “No, he is not. In fact, he’s gone.”

  “He’s what?”

  “Gone. Missing. It looks like the lab we set him up in had been wiped clean. Nothing left in there at all.”

  “We had four men keeping watch over him!”

  Gerrick nodded. “And they’re dead.”

  “How the blazes could this happen?”

  “We’re still trying to determine that.”

  This was wholly unacceptable. “When did this happen?”

  “We last checked in with them a week ago,” Gerrick said.

  Corman added to this, “I went there last night. Near as I could tell from the bodies, they’ve been dead several days at least.”

  Several days. Which meant someone was able to stage a quiet attack on his property, steal equipment and a person away, and not even get noticed. In his neighborhood. No one, not even the Thorn, had managed something that audacious.

  “For future reference, gentlemen, this is the sort of thing you wake me up for.”

  “Of course, sir. I’ve put people on it, trying to find out just what happened. I did consider involving Constabulary, even. At least, specific people.”

  “No, I don’t want that. Keep it with our own. Tight circle. In fact, let’s keep it as need-to-know as possible.”

  Gerrick raised an eyebrow. “You think this was something internal?”

  “I can’t imagine something like this could happen without someone turning on us.” He didn’t need another complication. There was enough iron in the forge right now—Red Rabbits, Thorn, new mages, opportunity to move in on Tyne’s operation in Keller Cove, more special packages the Poasians wanted to send in. He shouldn’t have to flex his own authority in his Dentonhill. “In fact, is there anyone who needs a good lesson right now?”

  Corman nodded. “Allsairs has been coming up short. Only marginally, but still.”

  “Good. Let’s make a point of not letting that slide anymore. Our boys shouldn’t ever be too comfortable.”

  “We’ll take care of it,” Gerrick said, picking up his valise. “We’ll leave you to your breakfast, then.”

&n
bsp; The two of them left.

  Fenmere went off to the dining room. Maybe this afternoon he’d personally visit some of the other captains. Remind them who the blazes was in charge of this neighborhood.

  In morning light Colin was finally able to get a look at himself in a shop window reflection. The new cut on his face was going to scar badly, that was clear. He’d almost look like a Waterpath Orphan. Of course, he was lucky. Once things had turned left, at least three Princes—Arrick included—had gotten killed. None of his crew, thank the saints. Tooser had had the sense to keep the rest of them in the flop and throw the double. It probably had broken Tooser’s heart to do that, but he had made the right call. Fighting Rabbits on Rose Street was one thing. If the Rabbits had gotten into their flop, that would be the worst breach possible, save getting into the basement of the Turnabout.

  Colin had knocked down at least three Rabbits. Maybe dead, he didn’t check. Constabulary whistles sent everyone scattering, and Colin found himself crashing in a flop he’d never been in before. It was a Prince hole, but a real slop of one. The kind of place where folks rarely bothered to find a backhouse when the corner of the room will do just fine. The Princes here were . . . not the type who were ever going to make captain. But they had roses on their arms, so they were his brothers and sisters. Some of them had been hurt in the fight, and one bled out before the night was over.

  The streets were pretty damn quiet when Colin came out. Shopfolk were at work, but everyone went about their business with their heads down. No chatter, no laughing, no friendliness.

  It was like walking through Dentonhill.

  Sticks were on the corner, but their attention was on the bodywagons, still cleaning up the mess from last night. They didn’t waste time with him, didn’t even look twice.

  First he checked on his folks. They were fine, thanks to Tooser, but Jutie was chafing to get out on the streets. The rest of them had the sense to stay in. Colin took Jutie with him to the Turnabout, though. Easier than arguing with him.

  The Turnabout was near empty. Hotchins sat alone, at the only table not knocked over. The only other soul was Kint, behind the bar, making a futile attempt to clean up the mess back there.

  “Saints, Colin,” Hotchins said as they came in. “The blazes went on out there last night?”

  “All kinds of madness,” Colin said, sitting with him. “What have you heard?”

  “Heard? I didn’t have to hear nothing. A whole passel of Orphans and Knights came in here, ready to crack skulls. They did a damn fine job of it, too, until sticks came pouring in. They dragged near everyone in the place out the door in irons. So what the blazes did you do?”

  “What did I do? I didn’t do anything but follow the preacher to a meeting to keep the peace.”

  “Well done, Tyson. A wondrous peace we have here.”

  “This isn’t my fault! The Rabbits brought this down, poisoning the Constabulary Left! Everything went to blazes from that!”

  “The lieutenant? You mean Benvin?”

  “Yeah, Benvin!”

  “He ain’t dead, I can tell you that! He’s the one who dragged everyone out of here.”

  Colin shut his mouth. No need to share that he saved the stick’s life. After a hard stare from Hotchins, he said, “Maybe it wasn’t a great poison, but it was enough to blow up the peace table.”

  “So why are Orphans and Knights coming after us?”

  “I ain’t got a reason for you, boss, other than the whole Pact seems to be torn to ribbons.”

  Hotchins turned to Jutie. “You got an idea, kid?”

  “I don’t know much, boss,” Jutie said. “I wasn’t in the mess at all.”

  Hotchins pointed to the bruise on Jutie’s head. “How’d you get walloped like that, then?”

  “That was from the bird who was trying to kill the Thorn.”

  “The what?” He shook his head, and then signaled to Kint. “Beers and bread, now.”

  Kint sighed and got to work, despite his bar being in shambles.

  “All right, lads, you two are going to tell me every damn thing that you know happened on the streets the past couple nights, and we’re going to go over it again. Then we’ll all go talk to Casey, and you’re going to tell him everything exactly like you told me. Got it?”

  “Got.” Colin grit his teeth. Kint came over and dropped beers and biscuits in front of them.

  “Good. Now, kid, let’s start with you. Tell me about birds going after the Thorn . . .”

  The main problem Veranix had during his Rhetoric exam was that every ounce of his body ached. It took all his willpower not to moan and whine while he wrote argumentative essays on how building war-effort factories and workhouses in Maradaine’s underserved western neighborhoods was ultimately detrimental to the quality of life for Maradaine’s impoverished. Strictly speaking, the terms of the exam allowed one to make arguments on either side of the debate, but Veranix was familiar enough with Professor Chentlan’s personal politics to know what arguments to make to stay on his good side.

  Veranix finished the exam with only a few moments left on the clock, and after a hardy shake of thanks from Professor Chentlan—a good, jovial fellow if ever there was one, and Veranix was glad he hadn’t been present at the dinner the night before—he made his way out of the exam hall without letting anyone see how much pain he was in.

  Kaiana was waiting outside the hall.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m in an oddly unique situation today,” Kaiana said. “Campus has doubled their efforts at security, including employing professors, prefects, and university staff to safeguard against strangers infiltrating the campus.”

  “And this means you—”

  “Being as I am highly recognizable by, frankly, everyone on campus, I am more or less trusted without question. Come with me.”

  “Why . . .”

  “Watch.” They walked just a short distance before two cadets and a prefect approached them.

  “Where are you coming from, student?” the prefect asked.

  “Exam,” Veranix said.

  “I’ve been given special escort assignment,” Kaiana said. “He’s involved in a defense presentation later, and Professor Alimen wants eyes on him.”

  “Carry on, then, Miss Nell,” the prefect said, and then three of them walked off.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Kai said, “Everyone is calling me ‘Miss Nell’ today. It is bliss.”

  “Professor Alimen wants you to watch me?”

  “No, I made that up,” Kai said. “But they don’t know that. Let’s go.”

  “Have you heard anything about Alimen?”

  “They let him out of the ward this morning, walking well enough. And Phadre says his defense is still on for this afternoon.”

  So she had already talked to Phadre today. “Do we know where that’s supposed to be now?”

  “I don’t know about that; maybe Delmin does. He’s at the carriage house already.”

  “That’s where we’re going?”

  “I have a new bow for you. I presume you’re planning on using it this evening. I figured you’d want to at least get a feel for it for a bit.”

  “I do,” Veranix said. It was almost noon bells. Phadre’s defense was at two, so an hour with the bow, lunch, and then the defense. And after that, Delmin would have the name.

  “How are your bruises?”

  “I’ve been hurt worse.”

  “When?”

  “I think you underestimate the level of beating a life on the high ropes actually is,” Veranix said. What he went through last night, Grandfather would have called “warm up stretches.”

  “I just want—” She faltered, her voice cracking. She stepped off the path, going under the shade of a tree.

  “Kai, what is it?” He appro
ached cautiously, not wanting to make too much of a scene in the middle of the campus, certainly not when it was in such an intense lockdown.

  “Last night, I didn’t even realize until I went to bed that you just ran out there without even a thought to your own safety. No weapons, no cloak, nothing. What were you thinking?”

  “I was chasing the Prankster! I didn’t have time to gear up and stay on him.”

  “I’m sure it made sense in the moment, but . . .” She turned back to him, tears in her dark eyes. “God dammit, Veranix, I can’t have you getting yourself killed out there.”

  Veranix couldn’t stop the smile that came to his lips. “Good, because I can’t either.”

  “Don’t make a joke—”

  “I’m totally serious. Last night I was . . . stupid. But part of that was because I was just chasing this guy. Tonight—tonight, saints willing, I’m going to be ready to hunt him.”

  “Good.” She held her lips tight. He could see in her eyes that she wasn’t telling him something.

  “What happened?”

  “While you were taking your exam, there was another attack. In the Deans’ Tower. Some kind of smoke that then turned into fire—”

  “How bad?”

  She choked on her words for a moment. “At least four dead. One of the vice headmasters—Ballford—and an underdean and two secretaries. A lot more injuries.”

  He knew why she didn’t tell him right away. Because he would run off, all rage and no plan, to punch anyone he could in a futile attempt to find the Prankster.

  “Let’s go see this bow.”

  They reached the carriage house, where Delmin was crouched on the floor, the napranium rope laid out on the ground in front of him.

  “Why is that out like that?” Veranix asked. One of the most dangerous, valuable things in Maradaine, and they had it just lying around in plain sight.

  “I put it out so Delmin could look at it,” Kai said. “You know he can’t touch it.”

  “Yeah, but—” Veranix reached for it.

  “Don’t!” Delmin snapped, grabbing Veranix’s hand. “Something isn’t right.”

  “What do you mean?”