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

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  Colin had a dying stick on his hands.

  Blazes.

  There was no way Benvin came here without backing of his own men, and as soon as Four-Toe got out that door every Prince, Dog, Kicker, Orphan, Boy, and Knight in the square would probably descend upon the place, and if there was a dead stick—a stick lieutenant, no less—in the center of that mess, the rest of the sticks would probably burn it to the ground, and then do the same all over Aventil.

  Colin grabbed Benvin by his green-and-red coat and hauled him over the bar, then jumped over it himself.

  “You can’t . . .” started the bartender. Colin shut him up by punching him the throat.

  “What’d you give him?” Colin asked.

  “Not . . . not . . .”

  Right, it hadn’t been Benvin’s drink. Colin had drunk the lieutenant’s beer, and the stick had drunk . . .

  The reverend’s.

  “You poisoned the blazing priest?”

  The bartender was too busy gagging to give any response.

  A sudden slash of a knife got Colin’s arm. Not too deep, but it hurt like blazes. The damned kid was trying to have a go. When he made another slash, Colin snatched his wrist and took the knife away. “None of that.” He smacked the kid across the head for good measure on top of that.

  “There a back door through there?” he asked the kid, pointing toward the kitchen.

  “Ain’t talking, Prince!”

  Two more smacks.

  “Door?”

  “Rot in blazes!”

  Colin threw the kid over the bar and grabbed Benvin’s nearly still body, dragging him back to the kitchen.

  “Think, Tyson, think,” Colin muttered. What would Vee do? He was so blazing smart. How would he save a poisoned man?

  Get out the poison. Make Benvin sick.

  Colin looked around the kitchen. A greasy little hole with a stove and pots and racks of supplies. Colin grabbed one jug off the rack and sniffed it. Vinegar.

  Over by the stove was a dish of salt. Colin grabbed it and dumped it all—surely five crowns or more worth of salt—into the vinegar jug and shook it up.

  Colin propped Benvin’s body up, tipped back his head and poured the salty vinegar down his gullet.

  If that wouldn’t make a man empty his stomach, Colin didn’t know what would.

  In a matter of seconds, Benvin reacted, and everything came back out of his mouth in a violent eruption.

  “Wha—wha—” he sputtered.

  Colin hauled him up on his feet. “Come on, Left.” Halfway out the back door, Benvin threw up again, and then again in the alley. Colin tried to get him moving after that, and found a hand on his throat for his trouble.

  “The blazes you trying to pull, boy?”

  “Saved your rutting life, stick,” Colin said. “Rabbits poisoned you.”

  The stick loosened his grip. “Not me. I drank the rev’s.”

  “I know.”

  He looked back to the door, where the sounds of the fight could still be heard. “We need to slam this down.”

  “We, mate?” Colin snapped. “Am I a deputy now?”

  “Shut it, Prince.” He let go. “I’ve got work to do.” He stumbled to the mouth of the alley.

  “You’re blazing welcome!” Colin snapped.

  “Be glad you aren’t in irons,” Benvin said. For a moment he stopped and looked back at Colin. “You’d do well to get any Princes out of the square, if you can.” Then hand pressed against his stomach, he lurched into the street.

  Colin went out after the stick, though he could tell by the shouts in the air, as well as the whistles of the sticks, that it was probably too late to take Benvin’s advice.

  Kaiana had gotten the server Veranix had pulled out of the dining hall sitting and awake. His face was a mess, but he was alive, and if he was in pain, he was bearing it well.

  Veranix was out the door, chasing the man responsible. That was what Veranix had to do, of course. Which meant cleaning this up was her job. No one else was going to do it. For all she knew, everyone else in the dining hall was dead.

  She looked into the dining hall, steeling herself for the horror she was about to see.

  The floor was littered with people—moaning, wailing, covered in boils and pustules. The only people on their feet were Delmin, Phadre, and that girl—she the best off of the three of them. She helped prop Delmin up as they gingerly walked on the table toward the door.

  “Kai!” Phadre said. “Don’t step on the floor. You’ll get stuck.”

  She looked down at the floor. Some substance—thick like tar—was covering it.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  “Cadets and Yellowshields, fast,” the girl said. “But they won’t be able to do much without getting rid of that tar first.”

  “You have any ideas?” Delmin wheezed out.

  “I’ve used up most of mine,” she admitted.

  The moans and wails started to change into cries for help.

  “We need to do something,” Kai said. She looked down at the one server. He was barely able to move. “I’ll be right back.”

  She ran over to the main doors to find the cadets wandering inside, looking quite confused. “Is something going on?” one of them asked.

  “There’s been an attack,” she told them. “Many people are hurt, possibly dead. We need as much help as you can get.”

  “Yes, my lady,” one of them said, saluting her. He nodded to his friend and ran off.

  Kaiana could get used to that.

  The other one followed her back to the dining hall. “Saints and sinners all,” he muttered. At this point, Veranix’s escort—Jiarna, that was her name—had gotten Delmin off the table and to a safe part of the floor. Phadre had made his way back toward the High Table, all the while calling out toward the kitchen. No one seemed to be answering back there.

  “How much damage did this fellow do?” Delmin asked, as Jiarna nearly dropped him on top of Kaiana. He draped over her, and she dragged him out onto the floor.

  “Veranix chased after him,” she whispered. “Is he out of his league?”

  “I have no idea,” Delmin said. His eyes barely focused on her. “Kai? I may have found my limit for magic tonight. Or wine. Or the two combined.”

  “Yes, I think so,” she said. “But what about Vee? If he magicked the fog away, he’s probably already weak. Can he—he wouldn’t have had a chance to get his weapons.”

  “He didn’t magic it away,” Delmin said. “Well, he did it, but Jiarna knew what he needed to do.”

  “How?”

  Delmin shrugged. “She knows things. I need to close my eyes.” He did just that.

  Jiarna was moving about the table, checking each seated person as best she could from her vantage.

  “You,” Kaiana said, pointing to Jiarna. “Come here.”

  “I’m busy,” Jiarna said. “If you didn’t notice the crisis . . .”

  “I noticed. I noticed you came out all right. Unlike the rest.”

  Cadets and Yellowshields came pouring into the hall. Orders were shouted, and they got to work getting the injured off the floor. Two helped Jiarna off the table, despite her mild protests, and put her at the door by Kaiana.

  “I also got real help,” Kaiana said. She grabbed Jiarna by her sash and pulled her out into the hallway.

  “What are you—let me go—stop it!” Jiarna struggled, but couldn’t break Kaiana’s grip.

  “We are going to talk, you and I,” Kaiana said.

  “Look, I’m sorry your escort found me more interesting to talk to . . .”

  “Saints, I couldn’t care less about that,” Kaiana said. It had stung while it was happening, but her perspective had shifted since then. She pushed Jiarna to the floor next to Delmin. “He says you kn
ew how to make this mess go away.”

  The girl managed to jut out her chin proudly, despite being on the ground. “That’s right. I knew how.”

  Kaiana knelt down close so she could get in this girl’s face. “So let me understand something. You bully my friend so he takes you to this event. An event that happens to be attacked by this prankster, and you just happened to know exactly how to deal with this thing.”

  “I wouldn’t have known how,” Delmin mumbled.

  “Right,” Kaiana said. “You knew, though. That seems very convenient to me.”

  “Convenient? What are you talking about?”

  Delmin opened his eyes a little. “It was weirdly specific.”

  Kaiana had enough of this smug girl’s attitude, and grabbed her by the chin. “Very simple. Did you have a hand in this?”

  “What? No!”

  She looked genuine, not that Kaiana completely trusted that. “So that guy who ran out of here, the one Veranix went after, he’s not your accomplice?”

  “No, he’s not—and get your hands off me.” She batted Kaiana away. “Why are you even—why would Veranix chase after him?”

  “Because that’s what he does,” Delmin said. He chuckled weakly. “Give him a test to study for and he freezes up. But if he can solve a problem by punching it in the face . . .”

  “Wait, wait . . .” Jiarna said. She looked hard at Kaiana. “You mean you . . . of course. The carriage house girl. Well done, miss. You fooled me.”

  “If you’re fooling me,” Kaiana spat out. “If Veranix gets hurt out there, I will take it out on your bones.”

  “Fine, fine,” Jiarna said, pushing her way back up on her feet. “Really, he just ran out after the . . . remarkable.”

  “That still doesn’t explain how you knew how to fix it.”

  Jiarna looked down to the ground sheepishly. “I didn’t really know how, not exactly. But copper has magiochemical properties of dispersal, and salt for cleansing, and water is a universal medium for numinic activation.”

  Delmin was on his feet, popped up like a weed. “What did you . . . how do you even know that? I’ve never even . . . magiochemical properties?”

  Kaiana was glad that she didn’t have to feel dumb on her own there.

  “It’s what I’ve been researching. Among other things. The research on this stuff is minimal, frankly, but I’ve managed to figure a few things out.”

  “Research?” Kaiana asked, though it was less a question and more a random thought. “So you’ve found some information about this . . . this sort of thing. Yes?” She looked to Delmin. “I mean, what she came up with and how these attacks were done involve the same principles, right?”

  Delmin screwed his face in thought. “Well, I’m not sure. But it might be a start.”

  Phadre came out the door with a pair of Yellowshields, who were carrying a stretcher with Professor Alimen on it. The poor man, he looked awful. His legs were covered in burst pustules, and he looked like he could barely keep his eyes open. Despite that, he reached out toward her and Delmin.

  “Children, you’re well? So much . . . I don’t even . . .”

  “We’re fine, sir,” Delmin said. “Fast thinking on Phadre’s part kept the three of us safe.”

  “Well done, Mister Sarren. I might just pass you on your practicals. And I could see that Mister Calbert took extraordinary measures, but . . . where is . . .”

  “He went for help, sir,” Kaiana said. “He’s fine.”

  “Good, good.” He rested his hands on his chest. “I’m so sorry this evening was a failure for you, children.”

  Phadre looked to Alimen and back to Kaiana. “I’m going to go with him to the hospital ward. Is that all right?”

  “It’s fine,” Kai said. “Take care of him.”

  “Thanks.” He gave a glance at Jiarna, holding it just a bit too long. Eventually he just said, “Copper. Brilliant.”

  “I think the brilliance can spread around,” Jiarna said.

  The Yellowshields carried Professor Alimen away. Phadre gave a quick wave and followed after.

  “Well, that saves us that trouble,” Kaiana said. Best Phadre goes off so she didn’t have to plan this behind him. “Delmin, go with her. Go through her research—”

  “Hold on a moment!” Jiarna said.

  “Go through her research,” Kaiana emphasized. “I’d bet crowns against horse teeth that our prankster read the same books. Maybe you can get a clue who he is.”

  “How would that work?” Jiarna snapped. “For all we know he’s from the other side of the country.”

  “No, Kai’s right,” Delmin said. “This is something personal. Whoever this fellow is, he either studies here now or used to. Come on.”

  Jiarna cocked her head at Kaiana. “And what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to see if I can help Veranix before it’s too late.”

  Jutie knew Colin was keeping quiet about something. He’d only been a Prince for about a year, but that year was by Colin’s side, sleeping just a few feet from the man. Colin had plenty of secrets, plenty of fingers in stews all over town. That was clear. And that was his business; he was the one with stars on his arm, after all.

  For the past month, though, at least part of what he was hiding was the Thorn. Ever since Hetzer died, Jutie had on more than one occasion entertained the idea that Colin actually was the Thorn, and even considered that it was Hetzer, having faked his death or something.

  The Thorn certainly seemed like a Prince, as far as Jutie saw. Thrashing with Fenmere, thrashing with the Rabbits. But he was also shorter than either Colin or Hetzer, so those theories were out.

  “Where’s your head?” Deena asked.

  Jutie looked over to her as they walked back to the Uni gates. They had done quite a few walks, made some coin; it had been a good night so far. She was looking at him with concern, so it wasn’t a rebuke. He must have been staring off.

  “Stupid stuff is all,” he said.

  “What’s the stupid?” she asked.

  “Thinking about the Thorn. Like, what’s he up to right now?”

  “No clue,” Deena said. “Maybe he’s going to join Colin’s chat.”

  “I doubt that,” Jutie said. “I don’t think he’s the meeting type.”

  “You’ve seen him, right?” Deena asked. “Like, been right next to him.”

  “Yeah.” Jutie shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t anything special.

  Deena pointed to the gates, where a couple of Uni brats were walking out. “They look ripe enough. Should I take the lead?”

  “By all means,” Jutie said, offering them to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple green caps of Hallaran’s, and a brace of Knights, but they were working the gates cautious. Taking whatever pickings weren’t first swept up by Princes. Jutie wasn’t happy with that, but there weren’t enough Princes working the gates to get it all. That was a mistake, but he wasn’t a captain, and the other caps did what they pleased with their crews.

  Deena put on a big smile and strode over to the two brats: bloke and a bird, looking like they were ready to stoke a fire or two before finding a quiet corner to hide away in.

  “A beautiful night to you both,” Deena said, arms wide. “Finished your exams, did you?”

  “That’s right,” the bloke said cautiously.

  “Well done, well done.” She leaned in, lowering her voice to speak more intimately. “You did pass them all, you think?”

  “Think so.”

  “Then it’s cause for celebration. Wouldn’t you agree, my dear?” She addressed this to the bird.

  The Uni bird was a little more game than her companion. Matching Deena’s smile, she said, “I think I’ve earned it.”

  “I bet you have, dear.” Deena wrapped an arm around the blok
e’s shoulder, giving Jutie a sign to come a bit closer. Now the bloke was flanked by Deena and his bird, and he looked like he didn’t know if he should be enjoying this or not.

  “So, mate,” Deena said to him. “You want your lady here to have an excellent time tonight, I would hope.”

  “Of course,” the Uni brat said.

  “That, my friend, will take knowledge and coin. Now, you’re quite fortunate—”

  Deena wasn’t able to move to the next part of her pitch, because a series of bursts and pops came from the gates. A sheet of ice appeared on the ground, followed by a tosser sliding on the ice. He reached the end and kept running without a stumble.

  “The blazes?” Jutie said, only to see another figure leap over the wall.

  He didn’t have his usual gear, but Jutie knew the Thorn when he saw him. And the Thorn was going after the tosser.

  That meant the tosser was bad news.

  Jutie jumped and put himself between the tosser and the two Uni brats. They may not have agreed to a safe walk yet, but they had already engaged with them, so Jutie would keep them safe.

  The Thorn came down on the tosser, with only a tetchbat as a weapon. The Thorn was able to knock the tosser down with the bat, but things went to hell when a new bird came into the picture.

  Jutie hadn’t seen her before she made her move—astounding, given that she was dressed to be noticed. Dark gray, almost black, shockingly enough. Mouth and nose masked. Sleeveless shirtwaist and buttoned vest, so she wasn’t showing skin except her arms. Her arms were pure muscle, and she had gotten a rope around the Thorn’s bat.

  Jutie went for his knife, throwing true at this bird. The Thorn also let go of the bat, and it went flying at the bird.

  She leaped into a backspring, never losing grip of her rope, and dodging the knife and bat completely. When she was on her feet, she sent the bat flinging toward Jutie. He didn’t get a chance to dodge it; he took it straight in the chest.

  “Saints, Jutie!” Deena said. She went charging over, fists up, swinging at the bird like a bruiser. The Bird blocked each punch with absurd grace and speed, and then delivered a kick to Deena’s chin, getting her leg up impossibly high.