The Thorn of Dentonhill

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Professor,” Veranix started lamely.

  Alimen waved his hand dismissively. “I’m going to respect the Saint Day and not put you to task now. Though I’m sure it’s just a day without lecture for you.” He spat that last part out with resentment.

  Anger sparked again in Veranix’s gut, dancing as wild numina up his arm. He got a hold of it before it lashed out of him, focusing the energy as a cool, red flame in his palm. Alimen jumped back, defensively pulling in his own numina so strongly even Veranix could sense it.

  Veranix put all his attention on the flame, shaping it into an icon of a hooded woman. “Give me your blessing, Saint Senea. Put your eye upon me, protect me, as I act in the name of the right. Give me your strength, to fight against the unjust, to stand for the oppressed. If my body is broken, guard my soul and deliver it to stand before judgment, which I will never fear as I act in your name.” He released the image.

  Alimen’s eyes narrowed, and his own energy dispersed. “Do you know where that prayer comes from?”

  Veranix knew perfectly well. “From mages in the tenth century. Traditionally before execution for the crime of being mages.”

  “Glad to see you paid some attention in History of Magic,” Alimen said. “All right, go on. Blessed Saint Senea Day to you. Make good, safe use of it. I have quite a few things to attend to, myself.”

  “Yes, sir,” Veranix said, getting up and going to the door. “Thank you, Professor.” Alimen only grunted in reply. Veranix left and went down to the ground floor.

  Campus activity was returning to normal, though Veranix could sense energy in the air, a tension in the student body. Veranix went over to the carriage house, but found only a scowling Master Jolen standing outside. He didn’t bother approaching any closer, lest the groundskeeper take another opportunity to scream at him.

  He couldn’t see Kaiana, or do anything for her right now. He couldn’t go after Kalas or Fenmere. His leg was throbbing, and the last thing he wanted to do was push through the pain any more. His whole body hurt. He also was still covered in sweat, grime, and blood from the night before. He headed over to the west side of the campus, where the bathhouse was.

  The bathhouse was built on top of a natural hot spring, one of the few in the northwest of Druthal. Delmin had once rattled off the whole history of the discovery of the spring millennia ago, when Druthal had been a protectorate of the Kieran Empire, and the city had become a popular retreat for Imperial aristocracy. There had been a lot more to the story, but Veranix had completely forgotten it. What mattered to him was getting clean and refreshed.

  A valet approached him as he entered. “Good morning, sir. The baths, or other services?” There was a whole range of services available if one had the crowns to pay for it: barber, laundering, hot rooms, massage. The University bathhouse was renowned all over the south side of Maradaine, often used by the general public for these services. Students were permitted to use the baths for free, but anything else they wanted cost just the same.

  “Just the baths today,” Veranix said, heading over to the enclosed courtyard that housed the bathing pools. The room was lined with wooden benches around the outer edge, with several small baths and one large pool in the center. Veranix went to one of the benches and stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a loose heap.

  Veranix climbed into one of the small baths, grabbing the wooden bucket with soap and sponge that sat next to it. Patrons were expected to clean off in the small baths, and Veranix got to work scrubbing off the past few days’ worth of grime and dried blood. He paid special attention to the wound in his shoulder. It still looked bad, though the stitches were holding. Which was good, since Kaiana wasn’t going to be able to fix them any time soon.

  He hoped she would be all right. He promised himself that he would use whatever money he could spare, and whatever he took from Fenmere in the future, to help get her set up. He’d make sure she was safe, with a decent flop of her own. He laughed quietly. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have to move in with her.

  What did she mean, she had friends in the street? As far as he had seen, she hardly ever left campus.

  Deciding he was clean enough, he got out of the small bath and into the large pool. This was where the water was hottest. Veranix knew quite a few students who couldn’t stand it, but he relished it. Under the water, he stretched out his leg. There was still a nasty wound there, purple and swollen, but no blood or pus. The muscles were tight, but he felt sure it would heal well enough in time, given he let it rest for a while.

  The heat of the bath sank deep into his body, and he succumbed to it, letting it take him into a relaxing doze.

  Fenmere’s parlor was once again sullied by the presence of the Blue Hand Circle. This was becoming all too common, and Fenmere was troubled with how comfortable they made themselves in his home. He took solace in one small fact: their presence meant that they had failed. He drew every ounce of satisfaction out of it that was possible.

  “So you’ve come back,” he said as he bit into a plum. He had given his staff explicit instructions not to offer or deliver food to any of the Blue Hand on this visit. All four of them eyed the plum in his hands like dogs being kept out in the yard, denied entry to the kitchen. They sat on one side of the parlor, all on the couch save Kent, who paced back and forth behind them. Fenmere had long known how to tame dogs and spot which one most needed the whip.

  At this meeting, the whip was his authority, giving these mages a show of strength. He sat in his favorite chair, giving more of his attention to the plum in his hand than his guests. Gerrick and Corman stood behind his chair. Nevin and Samael both sat in a far corner by the fireplace; Nevin sharpened knives while Samael put together a new crossbow. Bell and a few more heavies stood by the door.

  Fenmere ignored all sense of propriety and let the juice of the plum drip down his chin.

  “We were ejected from the campus before we found the goods,” Kalas said.

  “And so you come back to me, hat in hand,” Fenmere said, wiping the juice with his sleeve. He looked over at the Blue Hand as they stewed in anger and naked hunger. “Why, Fenrich. You’re still wearing your hat.”

  “What’s this, Fenmere?” Kalas sneered.

  “I said you are coming to me hat in hand, and yet you still wear your hat. You are sitting in my parlor with your hat on.” He stared hard at Kalas, taking a savage bite into the plum.

  “Fenmere, we have—” was all Kalas got out. Fenmere pelted him in the face with the plum as hard as he could. Kalas might be able to turn him into a potato, but that felt good.

  “Do you see anyone else in here with a blasted hat on, Mister Kalas? No, by blazes, because it isn’t done! You come into my blazing house, you rutting well better take your blasted hat off and hold it in your blasted hand!”

  With slow, simmering deliberateness, Kalas took off his hat and held it in his lap with one hand. With his other, he wiped remnants of plum off his face and licked them from his gloved fingers.

  Silently, Lord Sirath reached out with his bony hand and took the half plum that sat on the floor and shoved it in his mouth.

  “Now, that’s better,” Fenmere said. “So you went to campus, tried to find your goods, and you failed.”

  “We are almost out of time, Fenmere,” Kalas said, looking around the room at all the men assembled. “We must have our things by midnight.”

  “That could be tough,” Fenmere said.

  “We have invested a considerable amount of money in you, Mister Fenmere.” Kalas got up from his seat and crossed over. “You should at least have the decency to show concern in our interests.”

  “Frankly, Kalas, I don’t even understand your interests. You came to me because I could get Poasian-made things into the city. You want to do some crazy magic thing and you need your crazy magic things on the day when the crazy magic is right. Great.” Sirath and the o
thers were all fuming now. Fenmere continued, “But your stuff got pinched. I hate it, but it’s part of business. The Thorn is going to pay for doing that. Maybe today, maybe next month, maybe in ten years. But I won’t let him go, believe you me.”

  “Doesn’t help us,” Sirath said.

  “Give me something to work with, and maybe I can help,” Fenmere said.

  Gerrick offered, “All we know is he’s somewhere on campus. We can turn Dentonhill upside down in a day, but the University would take more time. You saw yourself, Mister Kalas, it’s not that easy to search for something there.”

  “The girl,” Kent said.

  “What’s that?” Gerrick asked.

  “Nothing,” Kalas said. “He saw some dark Napa naked and he got far too excited about it.” Kalas gave an angry glare at the young mage.

  “It distracted me,” Kent growled. “Shouldn’t have let it, that was stupid.”

  “It was,” Sirath said.

  “She had our things. She had touched them.” Kent was worked up and red-faced. He shouted, “That dark beast had put her filthy hands on our things! I could smell it all over her, and I didn’t realize it because she tempted me with her wickedness!”

  “Well,” Fenmere said. “That was helpful. And a disturbing look into the mind of your young friend.”

  “So, she had our goods,” Kalas said. “We’ll go get her, then.”

  “Perhaps I should send my men this time.” Fenmere pointed to Bell and his boys. “Take the other young mage with you. He seems less excitable, and he’ll be able to help you find the girl.”

  “Right,” Bell said. He limped over and tapped Forden on the arm. “Let’s go.” Forden shrugged and got up from the couch.

  “Bring her to the warehouse we’ve set aside for our friends,” Fenmere called out as Bell and the others headed out. “The rest of you should head over there, get everything ready. Tonight is your big night, isn’t it, Lord Sirath?”

  “Yes,” Sirath croaked as he got up from the couch.

  “I’ll come out there to make sure everything is going well, but first I’ll be heading to lunch.” He got up and went to the door of the parlor, and with the subtlest of gestures had Gerrick and Corman follow him. He turned back to Sirath and Kalas, who looked ready to eat the furniture. “You all don’t have membership at the Ullman Club, do you? Shame. The roast lamb is divine.”

  Kaiana didn’t know how much longer she would be able to stay on campus, and she had no idea where Veranix was. She had tried to get into Almers, but the prefect at the door told her in no uncertain terms that no women, especially a “common strumpet” such as herself, would be allowed to enter. She asked if she could leave a note, but the prefect scoffed at her, casting his doubts on her ability to read and write at all. She left her handprint on his face before she left, which almost got the cadets put on her.

  She couldn’t leave him a message at the carriage house. She had full faith that Jolen would scour the place and burn anything he found of hers. She couldn’t get into the Spinner Run, either, not knowing exactly where the other end of it was.

  The simple truth was she didn’t have any idea where else Veranix might be. She cursed herself for not knowing more about where he went on any given day, even on a Saint Day. Would he go to the campus chapel? She had no idea.

  What had he told her last night? A show at Cantarell Square. Would he still go there, even with everything that had happened today? He might, if he thought I might be there.

  She could go look for him there, but she knew once she left campus, she probably wouldn’t be able to get back in. It was the only idea she had.

  Kaiana took her bag, an old canvas feedsack that held her few possessions, and went across the south lawn to the gate.

  “Child!”

  Instinctively she turned to the calling voice. Most of the professors on campus called her “child,” despite the fact she was as old as any of the students, and she didn’t lack in height or muscle. The magic professor, Alimen, was running over to her. She slowed her pace to allow him to catch her, but didn’t give him further regard.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” he said as he came up. He was breathing heavily, and bent over double to catch his wind.

  “Did you need something, sir? I don’t have much time before I catch a whipping.” Her words came out harsher than she intended.

  “Yes, child, about that—”

  “It’s Miss Nell or Kaiana, Professor. Preferably the former.” She had had enough patronizing for one day.

  He looked surprised, and nodded, appearing to accept the chastisement. “Miss Nell, of course. Forgive me. I am deeply sorry for everything that has occurred today. You, unfortunately, got caught in the middle of things that never should have touched you.”

  “Happens all the time,” she said. She started to walk away. Alimen put a hand gently on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, but walked slower, allowing him to keep pace with her.

  “Be that as it may, I feel a certain responsibility.” He took a small purse out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Not a lot, mind you, but enough for you to pay rent for a few weeks. Enough to get settled.”

  “If the landlord doesn’t mind renting to Napa girls.” She immediately regretted saying that. “Thank you, though.” She took the purse cautiously.

  “It is the least I can do, given my role in your dismissal,” Alimen said. They approached the gate. “Normally, I would say it is no business of anyone regarding your relationship with Mister Calbert, but clearly—”

  “About Veranix, sir,” she said, hopeful. “I need to get a message to him, but privately. Could I ask you to—”

  “Deliver one to him without reading it?” he offered. He gave her a warm smile. “Of course, Miss Nell. An old man like me doesn’t need to read the secrets of young romance.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “I have some ink and paper here, it’ll just take a moment . . .” She started to rummage through her bag.

  “That’s odd,” Alimen said. “There’s usually cadets watching the—”

  Kaiana looked back up at Alimen, but he wasn’t moving, not in the slightest. His mouth was half open, frozen forming the words. “Professor?”

  “That’s a handy thing,” said a deep voice behind her. Large arms wrapped around her body. Before they could gain full purchase on her, she lifted up one leg and smashed it down on the knee of the person grabbing her. She turned around, landing a hard punch in his chest. He staggered back, but he had three others with him, including one of the men who had come to the carriage house earlier. A mage.

  “Got some fight,” he said, grinning at her darkly.

  “Do it to her, too,” the one she punched ordered.

  “Can’t take a girl?” the mage asked. Before any of them could answer, she hurled her sack at the mage. It fell apart as it struck him, her belongings scattering on the ground.

  She wanted to run, but that would mean leaving the professor. He was still standing there, paralyzed and helpless. Her father hadn’t left her much, except for soldier’s wisdom. “Never leave a man to be taken,” was one of his favorite things to tell her.

  Even though she was a soldier’s daughter, and her arms were as strong as any man’s, she had never fought three men at once. These men were determined to take her quick and quiet. Despite her fight, six hands grabbed and held her, covered her mouth. The mage came over, and touched her forehead. With that, she couldn’t move at all.

  “Quick now,” the mage said. “Take them both.” She could still hear and see, feel every hand on her body as she was picked up off the ground. Before she knew what was happening, she was in darkness, tossed into the back of a cart, Alimen’s inert body next to her. The cart started moving. Kaiana couldn’t even force her throat to scream.

  Chapter 22

  CLEAN, relaxed, and in fresh clothe
s, Veranix made his way into Aventil. Unable to find Kaiana anywhere on campus, the only place he could think to look for her was in Cantarell Square, on the off chance that she went there looking for him. He didn’t want the day to pass without finding her, and starting to put things right for her.

  There were no cadets at the south gate, though he spotted two of them walking up the street, strikers and beers in hand. It was odd for both cadets to leave their post during their shift, but he’d seen it happen before.

  No local boys were outside the gates either. That was even stranger. It was a Saint Day, though, so it was entirely possible that there were plenty of students out in the neighborhood, keeping the street boys busy. Maybe even the Princes would go to services.

  Cantarell Square was bordered by a low brick wall, no higher than Veranix’s knee, with two marble statues on ten-foot plinths at opposite corners: Lord and Lady Cantarell, once Baron and Baroness of Aventil, when there was such a thing. In the center of the square, an ancient white stone fountain—long in disrepair—was one of the few remnants from the sprawling garden that had filled the land where the neighborhood now stood. Delmin had once told Veranix that the square was supposed to stand as a reminder of the generous donation of land the Cantarells had made, so that the city could continue to grow. Of course, the truth was the Cantarells were deeply in debt, and selling the baroness’s garden to the city was the only way to pay it off. The Square Players’ stage was built over the fountain, a hasty structure of several wooden platforms that could be easily disassembled whenever a city official decided it shouldn’t be covering the landmark.

  The square was full of activity, as the show was going on, and many Aventil vendors and street boys crowded along the edges to pick up the business that would come from the people watching. Veranix hoped that Kaiana would be easy to spot, even in this crowd.

  A huge burst of laughter came from the crowd. Up on the stage, the actors were performing one of Veranix’s favorite scenes from the play. Three Men and Two Wives was a ridiculous comedy in which a poor baron marries off his two daughters to rich merchants, but through a series of misunderstandings three weddings are promised with only two daughters to fulfill them. Every time the show played in Cantarell, Veranix tried to come out to see it. In the scene, the baron was disguised as a washerwoman, while one of his daughters was disguised as a gentleman, and neither recognized the other. The crowd laughed raucously, but Veranix could barely manage to look at the stage. He kept searching for Kai, and she was nowhere to be found.