“All right,” Colin said. “We ready to do this?”
“What happens if he doesn’t show?” Deena asked.
“Then you’ll have ruined your hair for nothing,” Colin said.
“Ugh,” Deena said. “Smells like I shoved my head in a flowerpot.”
“Worse fates,” Colin said.
“Let’s hope we don’t find one.” She opened up the fur-lined Red Rabbit coat to show she had filled its inner pockets with knives. “The Rabbits had a blasted good idea with these coats, I can tell you that.”
“See where it got them,” Colin said. “I’ve wasted enough time. Let’s go to the church.”
Minox had found the events of the day troubling, but he could not explain to Inspector Rainey exactly why. They had a solid lead on the future location of the man who, as far as anyone could prove, was responsible for the attack on Lieutenant Benvin. They were putting together a plan of action to capture this man, one that was strategically sound. Everything was proceeding in what should be considered an ideal manner.
Except Minox knew it wasn’t right.
He couldn’t prove it, though.
The theory that there were multiple Thorns was solid, but lacked evidence. The theory that one of them was the true Thorn, and the others were acting in ways opposed to his goals had no basis in anything other than Minox’s intuition.
And Jace’s. He could see it in his brother’s eyes as the plan was discussed. Jace had had his own experience with the Thorn. His attempts to bring that up had been shot down quite strongly by Sergeant Tripper.
“Look, the point isn’t just what he did to the Left—”
“Allegedly,” Jace said.
“Yeah, sure. We’ve got a good pile of additional charges we can put onto the Thorn. And it’s our job to catch these guys and iron them. The Thorn will get his trial, and the City Protector and the People’s Advocate can hash it out.”
As much as Minox was uncomfortable with the plan, he couldn’t argue with that point. There were elements he did try to argue. They were technically going to break the sanctity of the church. Tripper argued that the priest had asked Yessa to bring in the Birds, and, through Yessa, they were invited. It was sophistry, but sophistry that had enough legal teeth to suit their needs.
“All right, tell us how this looks,” Inspector Rainey called from behind the makeshift curtain they had hung in the middle of the apartment. She emerged, now dressed in disguise as a Deadly Bird—leather corset over her white blouse, a belt with several knives on it, her hair up in elaborate braids, and an absurd amount of makeup on her eyes. It was an effective costume.
“Acceptable,” Minox said. He would have preferred that they all could wear Constabulary riot gear, but there was no way the disguises would have worked that way. The Deadly Birds were known for flamboyance, especially in dress. Rainey and Corrie were taking a risk, but they were well aware of it.
“Bloody well better be rutting acceptable,” Corrie said, coming out behind her. Her costume was far more outrageous, with Linjari-style short pants and stockings, and a blouse that left her arms and collar quite exposed. She also wore excessive face paint, with green and red streaks around her eyes and temples. There was something fitting about the fact that his sister, even in this absurd costume, would make a point of sporting the Constabulary colors. She had armed herself with a pair of handsticks.
“It’s fine,” Jace said, looking down at the floor.
“And if you laugh, I take your teeth.” This was Pollit, having volunteered to back up Rainey and Corrie in disguise. If he had any reservations in dressing as a woman, he didn’t express them. In fact, he argued hotly that someone from the Aventil house had to be in the church with Rainey and Corrie, and that he was the best one to do it. Pollit’s outfit was far more conservative than either Rainey’s or Corrie’s, but still accentuated the feminine features that Pollit normally took distinct pains in hiding. A pair of crossbows hung at his hips. Pollit also wore a short coat, despite the heat, to hide the mage shackles he was carrying.
“No, looks good,” Tripper said. The man glared at Jace, Wheth, and Saitle, as if to make it clear that none of them were to give Pollit any trouble. Though Minox also noticed a flush that came to the sergeant’s cheeks when Pollit first came out.
None of Minox’s business, not relevant to the case.
“All right,” Tripper said. “Specs, you take point going into the church, with Corrie and . . . Pollit.”
“Where’s your snitch going to meet us?” Rainey asked.
“A block from here, Tulip and Tree. For her sake, stay in character the whole time over. You’ll be going through territory that’s contested between the Orphans, Knights, and Princes.”
Wheth added, “Knights and Princes should give her and you a pass if you’re going to the church. But if they think you’re sticks . . .”
“Then it’s fair game,” Rainey said.
“I’m walking into a rutting church wearing this,” Corrie muttered.
Minox didn’t want his sister to feel uncomfortable in this venture. He was already feeling enough of that. “If you want to wear something else—”
“Nah, Mine, it’s fine. I got to look the part. But not a word to Ma, either of you.”
“Sworn to the saints,” Jace said.
Tripper continued. “Once they’re in, the rest of us take our spots. Jace and Saitle, whistles at the ready at the two intersections. You all just bring in the patrol if things turn left, nothing else. Hear, Jace?”
“Heard.”
“Wheth, you take the roof of the shop across from the church, crossbow at the ready. I’m in the alley below you.”
“And I’ll be trailing the ladies from a discreet distance,” Minox said. Originally Minox wanted to be at the alley, but Tripper argued that whoever was there also needed to be carrying the other pair of mage shackles. Minox couldn’t do that and also use his left hand, a fact he discovered when he brought the shackles over from the Grand Inspectors’ Unit offices.
“You sure you can do that?” Tripper said.
“It’s where I want his eyes,” Rainey said. “Watching my back.”
“Fine,” Tripper said. “This is your show. Let’s get on it.”
All the Aventil constables took a brief moment, their heads down. Minox presumed it was a prayer or benediction, possibly a ritual with Lieutenant Benvin. He respected these officers and their need to acknowledge their bond, and said nothing.
He knew these were good officers at heart. That made this all so disappointing.
They all headed out, Inspector Rainey hanging behind.
“You’re not happy about this,” she said.
“Nor are you,” Minox said. “Though mostly because we are to remain on duty past midnight.”
“My caretaker at home isn’t happy about that. I’m mostly worried that this seems too neat.”
“A solution dropped into our laps? Indeed.”
“You’re more concerned if this is the right thing to do.”
“I’ve mentioned that we are technically violating church sanctity, for one,” Minox said.
“That isn’t what’s eating at you. You think we’re catching the wrong man here,” she said. She glanced over at Corrie and Pollit, already waiting for her to catch up. “Though I did tell you this morning how this case was going to end.”
She jogged off ahead to join the others in their ruse. Minox stayed back for a moment, checking his crossbow. It was loaded with blunt-tip quarrels. If the Thorn was to be arrested today, he would make sure that the man was taken alive.
Per Jiarna’s instructions, Veranix went about the day as normally as he could manage. He went to the tetchball match—which Pirrell won in a rout, twenty-three to six—and visited the tetchball squad over at Whisper Fox House around suppertime to give them his insights
on facing Pirrell tomorrow. His insights boiled down to Pirrell being strong and brutal in their style. Two of the Central Academy players were carried off the field. Veranix told them to be ready to get hit, and to hit hard and hit first, because the Pirrell boys weren’t going to be afraid to do the same. After that, he went back to his room to rest for a few hours. He needed to be at his best strength possible, in case anything went wrong.
It was already late into the hot evening when he casually strolled over to the carriage house. The campus was still active, but in a far more subdued way than the previous nights. Perhaps the revelers had cooled their ardor after heavy parties for several days, perhaps the dangers of the Aventil neighborhood had scared them into a calm. Veranix didn’t care, but he appreciated that he didn’t have to fight his way through the walkway.
The other four were already in the carriage house when he arrived. Delmin, Phadre, and Jiarna were all dressed oddly fashionable for the night, including Jiarna wearing a pageboy cap that somehow didn’t make her look ridiculous. Kaiana was wearing a simple blouse and skirt—hardly that fashionable, but she didn’t look too out of place compared to the rest.
Jiarna was sitting at the worktable, sorting the empty vials into groups, while Phadre and Delmin were tuning one of his devices. Kaiana was laying out Veranix’s Thorn clothes and equipment.
“Is your idea going to work?” he asked Jiarna. “You’ll have some way to track the effitte on campus?”
“It’s not impossible,” she said. “There are magiochemical properties in the residue of some of these vials. With a large enough sample, I should be able to determine what they are and how to best activate them.” She sighed. “I did spend much of the evening researching this.”
“No socials tonight,” Phadre said wistfully. “Though I think this secret match will make up for it.”
“It’s frightfully exciting,” Jiarna said. “There is a secret password and everything.”
“But you’ve learned how we get in?” Kaiana asked, taking the Hunter’s bow off the table.
“Oh, yes. We’ll be able to. We had to have a secret team name, though. We are the Defenders of Rationality.”
“So, you picked the name,” Delmin said.
“I most certainly did,” she said.
“Vee,” Kaiana said, handing him the bow. “Twenty practice shots, far wall. Right now.”
“Why do you want—”
“Because this is the bow you have to use tonight. That’s just how it is, so get accustomed to it.”
“All right,” he said, giving her a bit of a smile. She didn’t give anything back to him. He accepted that, no need to belabor things right now. Last thing he wanted was another argument over his priorities. He took the bow and started the practice shots. It was a heavier pull, hard on his arm, but after a few arrows he adapted, putting the arrows where he wanted them.
“Now that’s what we needed in Archery,” Phadre said behind him. “U of M was one of the lowest-ranked in this one.”
“You know the rules about mages competing,” Veranix said, taking another shot.
“How did you ever learn this?” Phadre asked.
“My father,” Veranix said. “He was a trick-shot performer in the circus, and before that . . .” Veranix faltered, not sure how much of his father’s history in the Aventil streets he needed to share right now. Blazes, it wasn’t like he knew it all, either. “Before that he was a soldier in the island war.”
“Whose father wasn’t?” Phadre asked genially. “Blazes, I’m the first Golmin in four generations not to serve.”
“Good with that bow?” Kaiana asked, coming up to them.
“Good enough,” Veranix said. He took one more shot to confirm, and then went to collect the arrows. “Though the Hunter definitely has more arm strength than I do.”
“Be aware for him tonight,” Kaiana said. “He’s been right with you the past two nights—”
“No, it’s the Deadly Birds he wants,” Veranix said. “That much is clear, he’s got an agenda that’s all about them. Blazes, that’s what I’ve got to negotiate with them.”
“So why is he dressed like you?” Phadre asked. “I mean, that’s the obvious question there.”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Veranix said, though the thought had been itching in his brain. The Jester, from everything Del and Colin described, seemed to be trying to use or sully the Thorn’s reputation in some way. The Hunter didn’t care about the Thorn, he just wanted the Birds.
That didn’t matter, though. Veranix just needed to solve the problems he could. First, make peace with the Birds, then the effitte infestation on campus. If he was very lucky, Inspector Welling would catch one of the imposters and solve two problems at once.
Kaiana took the bow and attached it to Veranix’s bandolier with his staff and quiver. “Suit up,” she said. “You’ve got a meeting to get to.”
“You all need to be off as well, yes?” Veranix said.
“I heard eleven bells a while ago,” Phadre said. “We should get going.”
Jiarna put her work away while Veranix finished getting dressed. “Should one of us be going with you?” she asked. “I mean, in case things go wrong, you shouldn’t be alone.”
“Like the other night,” Kaiana said. “I should have stayed near when you went into that den. Then maybe—”
“No, not for this,” Veranix said. “If things turn left, my best choice is to just get the blazes away. That’s easier to do if I’m on my own.”
“And that is what you’ll do?” Delmin asked.
“Like blazes it is. The last thing I want is to have a fight with the Deadly Birds. I will happily run away from that.”
“Good,” Kaiana said. She looked him over, now that he was fully dressed and equipped. “I think you’re ready. Good luck.”
“And to all of you,” Veranix said. “Especially you, Phadre. Crownball gets rough.”
“I won’t be playing to win, just to get them in the door,” he said. “No worries about me. Like I said, four generations in the army. I’m tougher than I look.”
“There’s our team motto,” Jiarna said.
“All right, no more time to waste,” Veranix said, shrouding into the background.
“If you aren’t back by two bells, I’m storming the church,” Kaiana called out.
“Damn well better,” Veranix threw back as he went off into the night.
Not that he was worried. He wasn’t charging into a fight this time. If all went to plan, this would just be a simple parley, and he’d be back home in an hour with no trouble.
Chapter 20
KAIANA DIDN’T KNOW how the students who had put this illegal match together had managed to get into the bathhouses, but clearly someone had dropped enough money in someone’s pockets to make it happen. Probably some of those social house kids. Saints knew they had the wealth to do it.
Jiarna led them to one of the side doors—usually only used by the bathhouse staff—and gave some special knock.
“How’d she learn all this?” Delmin asked Phadre.
“She listens to everyone,” Phadre said.
“Yeah, but how did she get them to tell her?”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Phadre said. “She has a knack for being able to hear several conversations at once and pick what she needs out of it. So if people are talking about it near her, she gets it all without seeming to pay attention.”
“Good ears,” Jiarna said, waiting by the door. “Someone’s coming.”
The door opened up, and a slack-jawed student peered out. “You got bait?” he asked.
“No, we’ve got the big fish,” she returned. He nodded and let them in.
They were led over to the bathhouse’s deep pool, where torches had been set up all around the perimeter of the water. Several groups of folks
, from all the different schools, were clustered around the edges.
A young woman—the social-house type—came up to them. “What’s your team?”
“Defenders of Rationality,” Jiarna said. The social house girl rolled her eyes.
“Who’s your player?”
“Me,” Phadre said.
“It’s ten crowns,” she said. “Winner takes the pot.”
“Ten crowns?” Delmin asked. He echoed Kaiana’s thoughts. This whole thing was limited to the wealthy students, clearly. Maybe they put this together just because the regular matches weren’t interesting enough for them. Or they needed some exclusive thing to set them off from the rest of the students.
“I got it,” Jiarna told the social girl, giving her some coins. “Tell Vee he owes me, though.”
“I’ll make sure he’s good for it,” Kaiana said.
“Oh, you will?” the social girl said, sneering at Kaiana. “Aren’t you a good thrall?”
Kaiana’s cheeks flushed with anger at that, but she didn’t let it move her, as much as she wanted to clock this girl in the teeth. The girl laughed and pointed to the pool.
“All right, boy,” the girl told Phadre. “Skiv down and get in place.”
They found a spot by the side of the pool, and Phadre started to strip down to his skivs. “The things we must do, hmm?” he said.
“Jiarna,” Kaiana said sharply, noticing her attention was mostly on Phadre, “remember what we need to keep our eyes out for.”
“Right,” Jiarna said, breaking her gaze away. She glanced around the other groups. “Once the match is going, we should move about as best we can, mingle.”
“Hey, hey!” the social girl yelled. “What’s this sewage you’ve got there!” She was pointing at Phadre.
“What do you mean?” Jiarna asked.
“On his arm, what is that?” She was pointing to his tattoo—the L and P in flames together.
“Lord Preston’s Circle,” Phadre said, holding it up.
“A rutting mage?” she screamed. “No, no, no. No jot on him.”
The Imposters of Aventil Page 28