And stupid.
Then sneaking into the Turnabout, spying on him. What was he trying to do? Was he trying to prove something? Veranix was getting too clever, too overconfident, too damn magical for his own good.
Saints, what a mess Veranix had made. That was clear just from the fact that Casey was here, in the Turnabout, handling things personally. Colin almost never saw him anywhere but his basement office. He would have only taken such direct action if he had gotten word from Vessrin himself. And, blazes, Vessrin, the “King” of Rose Street, was almost more legend than man at this point. Colin hadn’t laid eyes on him since he was a kid.
Colin swore under his breath. Rile and Beck had their Boys under control for the moment, and the Princes, while they all had their backs up, weren’t about to move without a nod from Old Casey or one of the captains. Colin knew he wasn’t about to give that nod.
“You all best get back to your own flops,” Colin told Beck. “Before this burns up.”
“Already full of embers,” Beck replied. “If I have boys who’ve been cracked and wagonned, then someone is going to pay for it.”
“Who are you going to make pay?” Tooser had stepped up, facing down the Boys. “You gonna crack the sticks back? Or the Uni?”
“Might as well crack Fenmere!” said another Prince.
“Only the Thorn doin’ that!” one of the Boys said. Colin couldn’t tell if the guy was proud or angry about it.
“What’s this about a Thorn?”
A constab lieutenant stood in the doorway, a pack of sticks backing him up.
“What’s it to you, stick?” Beck asked.
“Anything you barrel of rats do is my business,” the lieutenant said, eyeing the whole room. He wasn’t from this neighborhood. Didn’t even sound like he was from Maradaine. If Colin had to guess, he was from an eastern archduchy.
“You the new left in the neighborhood?” Colin didn’t know this particular stick, but he had seen the type before, who looked at everyone on the street as the same. Rose Street Princes or Hallaran’s Boys, Toothless Dogs or Red Rabbits, Waterpath Orphans or any other Aventil gang, this guy couldn’t care less. Street cleaner. Every few months a new one of them came to the neighborhood, usually from the north side of the city, thinking they were going to be the one to change things.
They never lasted that long. This lieutenant would be no different.
“That’s right,” the lieutenant said, tapping his brass badge. “Lieutenant Benvin.”
“Hear you all are rounding up the wagon, left,” Colin told him.
“Been some trouble down here, boy,” the lieutenant said. “We need to make sure you all aren’t causing any more.”
“Who’s causing trouble?” Colin asked. “We’re all having a few beers, enjoying our evening. That a crime, left?”
“Depends on how you enjoy.” Lieutenant Benvin walked over to Colin and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat. He opened up the coat and pulled out one of Colin’s knives. “What’s this?”
“That there is my right, left. Ain’t I a free Druth Man?”
“Right now you are. You think that lets you carry this?”
Colin grinned, baring his teeth. “It is the right of every free Druth Man to have arms and carry them on his person to protect himself from those who would impose false authority on his honest life.” Colin may not be a Uni boy, but he knew that part of the Rights of Man like the ink on his arms.
“And this is your honest life?” the lieutenant asked with a scoff.
“I think maybe you and your sticks should be on your way,” Colin said.
“Don’t think you can tell me what I should do, boy.”
“Make a push, then, left, see how long that lasts you.”
Rile and Beck stood at his shoulder. The other Princes and Boys took their places as well. The two gangs would as soon tear each others throats out as look at each other, but against the sticks they would let that all drop.
The sticks behind Lieutenant Benvin all moved away from the door. The lieutenant didn’t flinch.
“You got a charge on any of us?” Beck asked.
The lieutenant pointed to Beck and the rest of the Hallaran’s Boys. “Why don’t you take yours and go back to your own flops now?”
“We were just about to do that, left.” Beck whistled to his Boys, and they all filed out of the Turnabout. The sticks all scrambled out of their way.
“We still have a problem?” Colin asked.
“We’ll see,” the lieutenant said. “It’ll be nine bells soon. Let’s make sure all yours are off the streets before curfew.”
“What are we, Uni brats? There’s no curfew in the streets.”
“Let’s pretend there is,” the lieutenant said.
“This won’t roll, left,” Colin said.
“We’ll see, cap.” The lieutenant gave quick salute to Colin, cocksure and mocking, and walked out of the club.
“Back to it all, boys,” Old Casey told the various Princes. Everyone slowly went back to their tables. Casey waved Colin over.
“The blazes was that all about?” he asked when Colin sat down.
“New left in Aventil, using this Uni brat thing as an excuse to try and crack us all.”
Old Casey shook his head and took a long pull off his beer. “Uni brat brings in the sticks, the Thorn brings in Fenmere, and we’re squeezed in the middle.”
“That’s life on Rose Street, ain’t it?” Colin forced himself to laugh, to show Old Casey it was nothing to worry about. Of course Casey was worried, he was here, in the Turnabout, dealing with this, instead of farming it out to one of the minor bosses like Hotchins. As far as street level Princes were concerned, Casey was as high up as things got.
“What’s the word over at Waterpath?”
“Ain’t no word, not that I hear,” Colin said. “The Rabbits and the Orphans are getting pressed, and they’re taking it.”
“Do we have to make Waterpath our problem?”
“I really don’t think this is a bleed, boss.”
“And why do you think that?” Old Casey asked. His eyes narrowed. “You, of all the young ones on Rose Street, should know what happens when we don’t pay mind to the signs. You’ve got a name to earn, Colin. It was your father—”
“Don’t you get into it with my father, Casey!” Colin knew damn well what Casey was trying to do, trying to put his back up. It would work, if Colin let him.
Colin knew damn well that Aventil shattered and Fenmere got them all under his boot because of his father. He knew his own captaincy was earned despite his Tyson name, not because of it.
Every basement boss in the Princes knew they could rattle his hat by mentioning his father. His father the failure, who had done one thing right: protect his brother by sending him out of town when things were going bad. Everyone loved Colin’s uncle. Even folks from Hallaran’s Boys or the Waterpath Orphans would bow their head at the mention of Cal Tyson.
He was tempted to tell Old Casey everything—who the Thorn was, what he was doing, and let the bosses of Aventil do what they would with that. Blazes, if they knew he was Cal Tyson’s son, they’d throw him on their shoulders and parade him around town.
He bit his tongue. Veranix was screwing everything up, but that didn’t change the promises he’d made. He had promised his father that he would be there for Uncle Cal if he ever returned. He had promised his uncle that he would keep Veranix safe. He had sworn those things in blood, sworn them to Rose Street.
“What do we got to do?”
“We need to cool the air, that’s what we got to do. You were playing the streets legit today, right? Keeping the sticks from finding fault?”
“Damn right,” Colin said.
“Smart. We’ve got to do something to blow the heat from Fenmere, then.”
“That h
eat will blow over on its own, boss.”
“You really think so?”
Colin thought for a moment. Casey wasn’t going to let it drop easy, and he couldn’t look like he was sticking up too much for the Thorn.
“Yeah,” Colin said. “Let’s ride this heat a little longer, and if it gets any hotter, we’ll do something to blow it off.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet, boss!” Colin got up from the table. “That’ll depend on the heat.”
“Colin—”
“Trust me, boss. I’ve got it.”
Casey’s beer was empty, and he signaled over to Kint the barman for another. “You say you got, you got it. But if I hear of more noise, I want to know you’ve done something, all right?”
Colin sighed and nodded. “If we need to do something, boss, I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”
“Good man.”
“I better go check on the boys out in the streets. What with the sticks cracking down and all.”
Old Casey waved Colin off. Experience had showed Colin not to bother staying in Casey’s sight once the wave was given.
Hetzer was waiting outside. “Some mess out here tonight, huh, cap?”
“Some mess, all right,” Colin said. “Where’s Jutie and Tooser?”
“Hustling outside of the R&B. Should we go round them up?”
“Sticks are looking for an excuse right now,” Colin said. “Best not give them one.”
“At least let them use their excuses on the green caps, huh?”
“Sure,” Colin said, and led Hetzer down Rose Street.
Veranix scrambled out of the backhouse alley into the street, focusing his magic on blending into the surroundings. He didn’t think anyone noticed him.
He could hear a lot of commotion around the corner, in front of the Turnabout. The Hallaran’s Boys were clearing out one way, constables heading off the other. Looked like no blood was spilled, everything cooled down. Veranix was curious to find out exactly what happened, but he knew at this point, trying to satisfy that curiosity would only get him in deeper with Colin.
Colin was definitely mad at him.
Veranix scoffed. Colin would just have to get over it.
Someone walking past him looked around, confused. Veranix realized he was still shrouded, and his scoff must have sounded like it came out of nowhere. He slunk into the shadows and willed his appearance back to the ordinary looking man he was using earlier.
It was getting late, the curfew bells on campus would be ringing soon. The last thing he needed was for Rellings to have another excuse to dig into him.
He had only taken a few steps toward the University gate when he heard a scream. It had come from a few blocks up Rose Street. Possibly as far as Waterpath.
“Stop it! Stop it! Help!”
He turned and ran up Rose Street.
It was a woman’s voice, a shout of terror. Veranix had gone charging toward her, and was past Bush and nearly to Waterpath before he realized he was unarmed.
He stopped his run, his heart pounding. He wasn’t unarmed, of course, not really. Not ever. Especially not with the cloak on.
That would put him at risk. He’d definitely draw notice using magic. He shouldn’t be drawing notice. He promised Kaiana he wouldn’t get into trouble.
“Get your hands off of me!”
That was all he needed to hear.
There was already a crowd gathering at the intersection of Rose and Waterpath. Several gentlemen, well dressed for the neighborhood, were outside the general store on the corner, blocking the entrance. A woman, heavy-set with streaks of gray and a simple dress, was at the forefront of the crowd, trying to get into the store. Veranix wasn’t sure, but he thought she was the wife of the proprietor.
She made another attempt for the door, only to have the men push her back at the crowd. The people caught her gently, but none of them made any further attempt to help her.
“Just stay over there, missus,” said one of the thuggish gentlemen.
“Get off my door!” she shouted.
“We’re just having a word with your husband,” he said, crossing his powerful arms in front of him. “Won’t take a click.”
“Where do you think you’re hassling?” The shout pierced through the crowd. The people split open, allowing two Princes to come forward. One of them took the woman gently by the shoulders while the other moved up to the gentlemen at the door.
“Step off, boys,” he told the man in front.
Princes getting involved. Good. Everything should be sorted without him having to step up. No getting noticed.
“You all step off, Prince.” The gentleman scowled and leaned in aggressively. “There’s only two of you.”
“This is Rose Street, friend,” the Prince said. “There’s never just two of us.”
“And that’s Waterpath,” said the gentleman, pointing across the street. “Want to guess what’s right over there?” These were Fenmere’s men, then.
“You really want to do this?” The Prince’s voice rose to a shout. “You’re gonna cross to hassle a shopman?”
“We’ve just got some questions.”
“You got questions, you ask us.”
The gentleman stepped forward, poking the Prince in the chest with a single finger. “When we’ve got questions for you, we’ll ask them.”
The Prince snarled and grabbed the finger, twisting it hard. The gentleman winced but didn’t give any further ground. His hand shot out to the Prince’s throat. The Prince pulled a blade and sliced the man’s arm.
The whole crowd went up like kindling, screaming and crying out, as the two Princes leaped at the gentlemen with knives and fists.
Veranix was about to jump in when Colin and another Prince came charging up.
“Rose Street!” Colin’s companion called out, and they dove into the fray.
More men came out of the building from the other side of Waterpath. This was turning into a full-on rumble, and Colin and his Princes were about to be outnumbered.
To blazes with getting noticed.
Veranix drew in as much numina as he could, and used it to jump over the crowd and place himself between the rumble and the new group of Fenmere’s men, at the same time changing his appearance into his usual outfit for going into the streets, including a hood over his face.
Fenmere’s gang all stopped in their tracks. “That’s him!”
“This is all for me?” Veranix asked. “I’m so flattered!”
Despite being in the midst of grappling with each other, the Princes and Fenmere’s men in front of the shop all stopped fighting and stared at him.
“It’s the Thorn!”
“It’s really him!”
“Get him, then!” one of Fenmere’s men shouted.
The group in front of Veranix all charged at him. He channeled more magic into his feet, jumping over them, sending another blast at their backs. Not strong enough to hurt them, just knock them to the ground.
“Yeah!” shouted a Prince, who took advantage of his sparring partner’s attention being on Veranix. His knife found its mark in the man’s back.
Veranix grabbed one of the men lying on the street and gave him a magic-enhanced toss back into the building he came from. Even with the cloak, that took more out of him than he expected. He was still getting used to just how much the cloak augmented his own abilities.
“Waterpath is your line!” Veranix shouted at the Fenmere’s men. “You don’t cross it. Not tonight, not ever!”
A cheer came up from the crowd.
Colin couldn’t believe it. They were cheering for him.
This was too damn much. Colin needed to end this mess right now.
His boys had made short work of the thugs outside the store. Fenmere’s goons were
far too reliant on fear in their neighborhood. When it came to a real scrap, they rarely held their own.
Colin grabbed one of them, senseless from his beatings, and threw him down on the street with the others Veranix had knocked down.
“Get out of here,” he shouted. He pointed at Veranix, standing far too confidently over the group of Fenmere’s thugs. “You want him, there he is!”
Despite the hood over his face, Colin could tell Veranix was surprised. It was only a moment, but it was clear.
Veranix quickly recovered, though, giving a quick laugh. “Of course, they have to catch me!” He saluted the Missus Gemmen, who had gotten into the door of her shop. Fenmere’s thugs had cleared out of there, and her husband was at the door, bruised but well. Then Veranix jumped up, far higher than any man could naturally jump, and was shortly on the roof of the tenement on the other side of Waterpath. “Have a good night!”
Then Veranix—“the Thorn”—was gone.
Bells clanged from down Rose Street. Of course the sticks would show up now.
“Scatter!” Colin snapped at his boys. They took off in every direction, and he did the same, running down an alley that would take him over to the Uni gates.
He scrambled up a backstair in the alley, climbing up over the top of a window frame and pulling himself up over to the top of the roof. This wasn’t his scene, he had never been much of a roofman or eave runner, but he could do it when he needed to. From up there, he was able to look back at Rose Street. People had scattered good, Princes and Fenmere’s goons alike, as well as the neighborhood folks. The sticks had no one to hassle besides the Gemmens, who wisely argued with the sticks from inside their own doors. He could see the new constab lieutenant looking around the intersection, clearly annoyed at not getting anyone to throw in the wagon. His own problem.
Colin turned around and went along the top of the building until he was at the Lily Street side, facing the Uni.
A vague shape came flying out of the night, landing with a soft thump a few feet from him. Colin had his knife out and was going at it, before it cleared into the form of Veranix in his school uniform. Colin was already swinging, and only had the chance to drop the knife and pull the punch slightly, knocking his cousin in the chest.
The Thorn of Dentonhill Page 16