The Thorn of Dentonhill

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  It felt good to do that.

  “I deserved that, I suppose,” Veranix said.

  “You think so?” Colin hissed.

  “Yes, I do,” Veranix said. “I didn’t mean to get involved in anything tonight. Things just . . . happened.”

  “You didn’t mean to?” Colin asked. He couldn’t believe it. “You are involved, cousin. That mess down there, every bit of mess in Aventil tonight, that is all about you. The trouble you are starting.”

  “I didn’t start it!”

  “No?” Colin slapped Veranix across the face, who did nothing to stop him. “Hitting Fenmere’s dock shipments? Going after his dealers and bosses? What did you think would happen?”

  “I thought I’d be hurting him!”

  “You hurt him, he makes trouble here. You get it? And I bet you were the Uni kid who got beat up last night by, what, Hallaran’s Boys?”

  “I—I needed to tell the constable something! I woke up in the ward with him already hovering over me!”

  “And that was just brilliant!” Colin was boiling now, unable to hold it in. “Because when it comes to protecting Uni brats, the sticks really know to only hassle one gang over here. Like they really care which of us did it. Of course, none of us did it, so the Boys are fuming over someone setting them up!”

  “I know, I know,” Veranix said.

  “Right, because now you’re sneaking in the Turnabout, I saw. Are you that stupid?”

  “I was just—”

  “Just what? What was that, some magic trick? Make yourself look different? That’s not a place for you!”

  “It’s a free city.”

  Colin pulled up his sleeve. “That is a place for people who know what’s on their arm. People who know what they stand for. People who know who has their back. People who give their own.” He grabbed Veranix’s arm, pulling up the sleeve. “What’s on your arm, cousin? What do you stand for?”

  “You know I can’t—”

  “I know nothing about you,” Colin said. He shook his head. Time to lay it all out. “Do you really understand what happened here, with our fathers? My father started trouble, and when the heat of it came, he told his little brother to run. So your father ran, to keep Fenmere from going after him. People here loved your father.”

  “So did I.” Veranix said.

  “So did I! And so did my father. Long after the mess, my father was a broken man, and he made me swear, swear to Rose Street that I would do anything for yours if he came back. And just about every Prince out there would do the same.”

  “I know that!” Veranix’s voice cracked. He was still such a boy.

  “Then you should know the one thing your father wanted was that you stayed safe, out of this mess. You aren’t part of this.” He drove his fingers into Veranix’s chest. “Get out of Aventil, Uni brat.”

  Up until this point, Veranix had maintained a hint of a smirk on his face, a sign that underneath their fighting, everything was actually fine, he would apologize, and things would be as they had been.

  That smirk melted away, and Veranix’s gaze dropped to his feet. He said nothing, didn’t move, for what felt like an impossibly long time. Colin wasn’t about to give any ground, give Veranix another word. He just wanted him to go.

  The silence was broken by the peals from Saint Julian’s. It was nine bells.

  Veranix glanced back in the direction of the church, a flash of fear and concern washing over his face. He gave a last look at Colin and leaped off the roof, changing again into a vague shadow, a hazy outline of a man gliding down across the street and over the Uni wall.

  Colin’s legs buckled from under him, and he dropped down, almost slipping off the edge of the roof. He sat, stewing in rage and grief. His street. His own cousin had brought Fenmere’s heat right to his street.

  He had known for years, from the moment Veranix first told him he would go after Fenmere, that the heat would burn him back. He should have put a stop to things before they started.

  This was the end. If Veranix wanted to cause more trouble, he would take the heat on his own.

  Colin had half a mind to let Fenmere know exactly who the Thorn really was. Not just pointing him at the student on the Uni campus, but letting him know exactly who that boy was: the son of Cal Tyson.

  Colin stopped himself, barely aware that he had already gotten to his feet to take action. He couldn’t go that far. Writing off Veranix was one thing, but he couldn’t actively betray him.

  If he did that, he wouldn’t be worthy of the ink on his arm.

  Colin shimmied down a drainpipe to the alley floor. The streets had gone quiet; word of the sticks’ informal curfew had gotten out. Colin didn’t like it, but he figured it wouldn’t last for more than a few nights. Things like that never did. Sticks and their heat really were the least of his worries.

  He decided it would be best to play the night cautious, though, and pulled down his jacket sleeves. Shoulders up, head down, he went out into the street, walking at a brisk pace to the flop under the barbershop. Hopefully the rest of his boys made it back there safely.

  Chapter 14

  VERANIX LANDED ON the soft grass, just a short space from the carriage house. His magical shrouding, even in the red glow of the nearly full blood moon, left him unnoticed. At least, he didn’t hear a cry from any of the cadets, and he had to presume that the sight of some unknown thing soaring over the walls into campus would have gathered some attention.

  He had gone too far, and had lost Colin. Had it been helping against Fenmere’s goons, or sneaking into the Turnabout? Or setting the constabulary on the neighborhood?

  Or had it been simply that Colin had only been indulging him as long as he didn’t cause real trouble? He had never wanted Veranix to really go after Fenmere, really break the man. Colin was comfortable with how things were, and he had wanted Veranix to be comfortable with it too.

  That wasn’t going to happen, not as long as Fenmere was alive.

  Veranix slipped into the carriage house. Kaiana was reading under a dim oil lamp, Nevin’s journal lying casually at her feet. She looked up at his entrance, eyes darting nervously.

  He realized he was still shrouded, and dropped the disguise. Kai startled, and then relaxed.

  “You missed curfew bells.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m going to hold on to the cloak to get back into the dorms.”

  “Fine by me,” she said. “Delmin came in, wanting to see the rope.”

  “You let him?” Veranix wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He trusted Delmin, but he remembered his friend losing control the moment he had touched the rope.

  “I didn’t let him touch it!” Kai laughed. “He just looked at it. He did ask an interesting question, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why a rope and a cloak?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Delmin seemed to think they were crafted with a very specific purpose in mind.”

  Veranix hadn’t thought of that. “Did he have any idea what?”

  Kai shook her head. “You’ve got to get out of here, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. Any luck with the decoding?”

  She held up a scrap of paper for him to see. “This is the code key. You’ll be able to work out the rest of the journal with it.”

  “You didn’t decode it?” he asked.

  She scowled at him. “I figured out the key, Veranix. That was a lot of work.”

  “I know,” he said defensively. “I appreciate it.”

  “Good,” she said. “Anyway, you now have the tools to figure it out, but it’s up to you to do it. I am tired. Unlike you, I need my sleep.”

  “I need mine, too,” Veranix said.

  “Then go and get it,” she said. She started going around the carriage house, blowing out lam
ps. Veranix tucked the paper in the journal.

  “Kaiana, really. Thanks for . . . for everything you do,” he said falteringly. He was about to tell her about what happened out in the neighborhood, what happened with Colin.

  “Are you going to cry or something?” she asked mockingly. She blew out another lamp.

  “Oh, shut it,” he said. The moment was broken, he didn’t want to get into it now. “A bloke tries to say how he feels.”

  “And he feels like crying,” she said, laughing. “Get gone, already.”

  “Aye, miss,” he said, shrouding himself again. “I’d hate to further hurt your virtuous reputation.” He slipped out the door before she said anything back and dashed across the lawn.

  Colin reached the flop without incident. Jutie, Hetzer, and Tooser were already waiting, sitting on the floor playing cards around a few lamps. They all got on their feet when Colin came in.

  “Cap, we thought you got pinched,” Jutie said.

  Hetzer snorted. “I never thought that.”

  Tooser came up and closed and latched the door. “Crazy night, huh, boss?”

  “Complete mess, is what it was.” He dropped down on the floor. “We got anything to eat in here?”

  “There’s some ham and cheese in the larder,” Jutie said.

  “Go get it.” He pulled off his boots and tossed them over by the door. “Sticks causing trouble, Hallaran’s Boys and the other gangs. And Fenmere had his goons hassling in Gemmen’s store!”

  “That ain’t right,” said Hetzer.

  “Damn blazes that ain’t right.”

  “Good thing the Thorn straightened them out.”

  Colin got on his stocking feet and smacked Hetzer. “Is that what you think happened out there?”

  “Blazes, yes!” Hetzer’s eyes flashed with anger. “We would have gotten creamed if he hadn’t have shown!”

  “They only were there because they wanted him!” Colin shouted. “We’re only getting heat from Fenmere because of him!”

  “At least he’s out there doing something to Fenmere!”

  Colin threw up his arms in frustration. Hetzer was a good bloke, but he could never see the bigger picture. That was why a guy like him would never make captain.

  “You think it’s trouble?” Tooser asked.

  “I think Old Casey told me to keep an eye on this Thorn business,” Colin said. “We got a real problem with what happened out there.”

  “What’s that?” Jutie asked. He brought over a plate with the cheese and some ham. Colin cut off a slab of the meat and gnawed into it before continuing.

  “Let’s think, boys. Just for a moment, actually think things through to their logical ends.”

  “We ain’t stupid, cap!” Hetzer snapped.

  “I know, boys. So, Fenmere’s thugs come across Waterpath, and shake some shopkeepers about the Thorn. A few Rose Street Princes come and defend their turf. They scuffle, and who shows up and takes sides with the Princes?”

  “The Thorn.”

  “When news of that hits Fenmere, what conclusion do you think he’s going to draw, Hetz? What would you think?”

  “That the Thorn is working with us,” Hetzer said.

  “Or he’s one of us,” Jutie added.

  “Exactly,” Colin said. He had a few more bites of cheese. It was getting hard and sour. “Anything to drink in here?”

  “Jug of cider I bought this morning,” Tooser said.

  “Bring it here,” Colin said. Tooser poured out a cup, and Colin washed out the taste of the cheese from his mouth. “If Fenmere’s men are already crossing and hassling just because they want to ask some questions, you can bet your arm that they’ll bring a hard boot down on us if they think we have the Thorn.”

  “Bring the hard boot,” Hetzer said. “We’ve been living like we ought to be afraid of it too damn long.”

  “That what you want, Hetz? You want to tell Old Casey and the other men in the basements that? You remember the last guy who said, ‘Bring the hard boot’? What was his name?”

  Hetzer met Colin’s eyes, blazing with anger and fierce pride. “Den Tyson, captain. And he was right!”

  Colin looked away from Hetzer’s intense gaze. “My father broke the neighborhood standing up to Fenmere. I’m not going to be the guy who breaks it again. And I’m not going to let the Thorn do it either.”

  Jutie stepped up, putting himself between Hetzer and Colin. “All right, cap. What do you want to do about it?”

  “Jutie, drum up some paperboys. Hetz, Tooser, you go down to Harkie the printer and put some squeeze on him. Do it decent, though, tell him it’s a legit job with silver for him.”

  “You’re gonna throw down silver on this?” Hetzer asked.

  “Tonight the line at Waterpath was cracked. We want to keep the line held, it’s worth the silver,” Colin growled. “Rest of you, roust up anybody who can be wallpainters.”

  “We’re gonna paper and paint?” Tooser asked. “What we gonna say?”

  “Something that says that Rose Street rejects the Thorn. He ain’t one of ours, and we don’t want him.”

  “Bit much, you think?” Tooser said.

  “You can do it,” Colin said. Tooser wasn’t that smart, but he was clever when it came to a paper and paint job. He could always come up with a picture that sent the message. “Spread word to the other gangs in Aventil, they’d be wise to do the same.”

  “That’s what you want,” Hetzer said crossly, “pass some silver.” Colin handed him a few coins.

  “Get out there and do it. I need some sleep.”

  Delmin had dug through every book with references to napranium that he had been allowed to carry out of the library, starting with the dry Compendium of Mystical Materials to the obscure Tsouljan Secrets of Magic to the bizarre Brenium’s Northern Travels. That last one made Delmin swear to himself that he would never go to Waisholm or Bardinæ. He had been so engrossed that he hadn’t noticed the curfew bells had rung and Veranix had yet to arrive.

  He didn’t realize that until Rellings threw open the door. “Curfew has passed. Where is Calbert?”

  “I—I’m not sure,” Delmin stammered out. “I haven’t, er, that is, I don’t know . . .”

  “What don’t you know?” Rellings casually looked around the room, moving the blanket on Veranix’s bed, gently pushing a paper or two aside on Veranix’s desk.

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since this morning!”

  “This morning? In the hospital ward?”

  “Maybe he went back there,” Delmin offered. “Blazes, if I had gotten hurt like that I wouldn’t have left.”

  Rellings raised an eyebrow. “You think I didn’t consider that, Sarren? You think I didn’t have someone run over to the ward and check if one of the students under my charge was lying up in there?” He crossed over to Delmin’s desk. Delmin was shorter and skinnier than Rellings, and sitting down he was dwarfed by the prefect.

  Delmin gulped loudly. “And he isn’t there?”

  “No, he isn’t there.”

  Delmin sprang to his feet, in no small part to get out from under the prefect’s towering gaze. “Maybe, then, he’s succumbed to his injuries somewhere!”

  “What?”

  “Yes!” Delmin said, he realized with a bit too much enthusiasm. “Hurt like that, surely his strength would have given out on him. He might have been unable to get all the way up to the third floor, Rellings. Did you think of that?”

  “No,” Rellings said. He puzzled on that for a moment. “I really hadn’t.”

  “That’s very insensitive of you,” Delmin said, moving out of the room into the common area. He kept talking, his mouth acting almost of its own accord. “I mean, someone in Veranix’s condition is in serious need of assistance
, and are you looking to help him? It doesn’t seem that way.”

  “That’s not fair, Sarren.” Rellings stalked after him. “It’s exactly because of what happened to him last night that I’m—”

  “What, Rellings?” Delmin asked. “Looking for a chance to bust him down?” He could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow. He didn’t even know what he was saying to Rellings, he just kept talking, hoping vainly that Veranix would show up any moment and end the whole ridiculous thing.

  “I’m responsible for—”

  “I know what you’re responsible for, Rellings. You are responsible for all of us in here. Like Parsons.”

  The veins on Rellings’s forehead bulged, and he ground his teeth, making his next words almost unintelligible. “What happened to Parsons—”

  Delmin quickly threw up his hands defensively. “Might have been inevitable. But because of that, Veranix went out looking for a doctor, and because of that, he ended up in the hospital ward, and maybe now because of that, he might be lying somewhere in need of help!”

  Delmin was amazed at how convincing he made that speech sound, since he could see Veranix just outside the window of their room.

  Chapter 15

  VERANIX WAS ABOUT to magically pop the iron grate off the window of his dorm room when he noticed the door was open, and he could see into the hallway. And people in the hallway could see into the room.

  Fortunately, the only person apparently looking into his room was Delmin. Unfortunately, Delmin was talking to Rellings.

  Very briefly, his eyes locked with Delmin’s. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let him know that he could be in a lot of trouble.

  He swung around on the thin ledge, getting out of the line of sight, and shrouded himself again, in case anyone on the ground was looking up. The only people who would be were prefects or cadets, and neither one would be good for him right now.

  He had never tried magicking sound to his ears through glass. He imagined it was going to be harder. He slowly reached over to the window and touched this glass gently with a couple fingers. He pulled in a trace of numina, and eased it through those fingers into the room.