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

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Yes, I know that. Really, she showed me her work this morning, and I can’t imagine why they aren’t throwing Letters of Mastery at her. Or Phadre, frankly.” He thought about it for a moment. “Their work is almost the same, so why are they giving her a hard time?”

  “I think it’s because he’s doing magic, and treating it like it’s science. She’s doing science, and bringing magic into it.”

  Veranix stopped in his tracks. “All right, how the blazes are they not throwing Letters of Mastery at you, by every saint?”

  “Do you see a lot of Napolics going to school here?”

  “I don’t see a lot of Racquin either, but—”

  “We aren’t even going to get into that.” Her face went tight and she kept walking toward the library steps. “This is not the time for this conversation.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” Veranix said. “There’s no conversation beyond mission, is there?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I mean . . . I mean, what are we doing?”

  “We are going to the library to find out what, if anything, Jiarna and Delmin had discovered.”

  “That isn’t what I mean!” He could jump into a fight or over the side of a bridge without a care, but trying to actually talk to Kai about . . . anything other than doing that would make his courage fly apart. “Look, when the Blue Hand came into your carriage house—”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I need to know what you—” was all Veranix got out when the library doors opened, and Delmin stuck his head out.

  “Oh, you’re here. I thought I heard you.”

  Veranix really wanted to knock Delmin in the teeth right then.

  “Prankster got away from me,” Veranix said. “Another assassin got in my way.”

  “Another?” Jiarna stuck her head out the door. “As in, a different assassin from some other occasion with an assassin involved. You’ve had call to deal with more than one assassin?”

  “Welcome to the world I’m in, Miss Kay,” Veranix said with a flourish.

  “As in, just now, tonight, someone was trying to kill you.”

  Veranix went into the library. “Well, she was trying to kill me, and then our friend started a stampede of every horse in Cantarell Square, and she actually helped save people.” On the shocked looks of the other three, Veranix shrugged. “I was as surprised by this as anyone, frankly.”

  “I don’t think this is something I can be involved with,” Jiarna said, striding down the hallway.

  “You are involved.” Kaiana went after her. “In case you forgot, someone tried to kill you tonight.”

  “That’s not true,” Jiarna said. “He tried to kill everyone in the room I happened to be in.”

  Veranix jumped in front, startling Jiarna. “And now you’re on the team. What have you and Delmin found?”

  “You do this—the three of you do this—on a regular basis?”

  “I do not,” Delmin said.

  “Yes, I do,” Veranix said.

  “Why, by Saint Jesslyn? No, don’t tell me. I do not want any part of this. All I wanted was to get the professors to agree to adjudicate my Letters Defense.”

  “You involved yourself, Jiarna. Now you’re in. Fortunately, I do the heavy lifting, and take the heavy beatings.”

  “How heavy?” Delmin asked.

  “I’m probably bruised all to blazes right now.” Veranix opened up his shirt to show them.

  “Blazes, Vee,” Delmin said. “You’re going to get killed doing this.”

  “Not tonight, though. And if I can help it, no one else here will. So what did you two find out?”

  “That he—the Prankster, if that’s what you want to call him—came through the library in the past few days and took things from the archives,” Delmin said.

  “What sort of things?”

  Jiarna spoke up. “Part of the archives—the deep stuff, not the regular books—involve records on every Defense of Letters for the past fifty years. Even the defenses that failed. The defense packet gets meticulously copied—the defense, the rebuttals, the critique. Even research and correspondence.”

  Veranix wondered who would have the time to do that sort of thing. Maybe that’s what the librarians did. “All right. And this matters why?”

  “Because my research has brought me through many of these files, trying to find anything I could that had covered the same ground. I didn’t have access to the failed defenses, but I found reference to a student from a few years ago whose work caused an accident at his defense.”

  “Work like this Prankster’s?”

  “I’m not sure. It was definitely along the lines of the integration of science and magic. I discovered them going through the correspondences of Professor Jilton.”

  “Who is Professor Jilton?” Veranix asked. She had mentioned him the other day.

  “Probably the foremost expert on Integrated Mysticism in all of Druthal, who teaches at the Royal College of Maradaine. He’s studied all of it—magic, miracles, Psionics—”

  “Not real!” Delmin immediately said.

  “Kept quiet by the government, suppressed by their own secret Circles.”

  “You’re giving those theories credence?” Delmin asked, incredulous. “Secret circles of telepaths and psionicists working for Druth Intelligence?”

  “If you’ve read the testimonies—”

  “Not the time for this,” Veranix interrupted. “You were talking about Professor Jilton. He teaches this stuff over at RCM?”

  Jiarna made a meek shrug. “Or taught, since he’s gone on a long sabbatical. He had exchanges with the failed student, because in the other letters I read he made reference to him.”

  “By name?”

  “I think so, but I don’t particularly remember.”

  Veranix wanted to scream. “You don’t remember?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t memorize the name of a failure who was mentioned in passing in a handful of hundreds of pieces of research I did, Veranix. Which was why I came here to look for those letters right rutting now.”

  Delmin audibly gasped.

  “Can we not be so dainty when lives are at stake?” Kaiana asked.

  “I know lives are at stake, but I do not understand why it is on us to deal with it!”

  “Is someone else in a position to take care of it?” Kaiana looked at Delmin, and then the rest of the group. “I mean, let’s not fool ourselves here. This Prankster, though he may have failed his Letters Defense, clearly has an impressive set of talents. Is there anyone more qualified to take care of him besides Veranix?”

  “I’m not saying that at all,” Veranix said.

  “I am. He is beyond the campus cadets, he is beyond Constabulary or the Aventil street gangs. And we’ve seen the lengths he’ll go to. We’re only alive because the two of you were fast thinkers a few hours ago.”

  “I suppose that is true.” Jiarna took the compliment with a slight smile. “But there’s nothing else we can do right now. As I was saying, the letters from Professor Jilton are gone.”

  “So the Prankster stole them?”

  “Perhaps. We’ve gone through some other materials, and there are pieces missing throughout the library—including several defense packets. All of which tie to my research topic.”

  “All things that might have given us a tie to who is he, in other words?”

  “Essentially. I don’t know what else I can do.”

  “I might know how,” Delmin said quietly.

  “Sorry, what?” Veranix asked.

  Delmin swallowed hard. “I think I know how to figure out who this guy is.”

  “All right, then, let’s have it.”

  “Well, I don’t have it right now. It’s also kind of a long shot, and it’s going to take me a litt
le time.”

  “How long?”

  “Let me think, all right? I need to do some research. But we probably should not forget that tomorrow, you have an exam, I have an exam, and we need to be on hand for Phadre’s defense.”

  “Where is that, exactly?” Jiarna asked, feigning a casual interest.

  “I don’t know right now,” Delmin said. “When I have more information, I will share it with you all. But you’ll have to excuse me that I place not failing out of school at a slightly higher priority. And so should you.”

  That was aimed with a stern finger at Veranix’s chest.

  “That’s fair,” Veranix said.

  “Glad you think so.” Delmin paced a bit around the library antechamber. “Look, we’ve all had a ridiculously hectic night, and maybe we should all just go to our respective beds and figure things out in the morning.”

  “Presuming our bed hasn’t been gassed out.” Veranix chuckled.

  “Yes, presuming that.”

  “Mind you, I’d like to think I’ve given this Prankster at least a bit of pause before he strikes again,” Veranix said. “I mean, for the most part, I didn’t embarrass myself out there. I did give him something of a walloping when I was able to get a shot in.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Kai said, though she sounded rather patronizing. “Though I’m surprised no one from Protocol has hunted us down for our clothes.”

  “Clothes!” Veranix almost shouted it. “Del, let me get a good look at you.” Using Delmin’s clothes for reference, he magicked his outfit back to a dress uniform.

  “You can’t use my courses sash!” Delmin said as soon as Veranix finished. “You did not make those marks.”

  “Fine,” Veranix said, making the sash vanish in a whiff of magic. “Mine got destroyed in the attack.”

  Jiarna shook her head and made for the door. “I’m deeply regretting getting involved with you people.”

  Veranix followed after her. “Hey, listen, I . . . I want you to know I really appreciate how you’ve helped. Things in the dining hall would have gone a lot worse if it weren’t for you.”

  “I knew what to do, that’s all.”

  “I know. What I’m trying to say is . . . you made me take you here tonight to get your Letters Defense the support it needs. I don’t know what I can do now to help you with that, but if you need anything, just ask.”

  “I will, don’t doubt that.”

  “I don’t. Just now I’ll help you because I want to, not because you’re blackmailing me.”

  She gave him a slight smile. “Good to know.” With a tip of her cap, she left.

  “So now what?” Kaiana asked from over his shoulder.

  Veranix held the door open so they could leave. “That depends. Delmin, when can you get me that name?”

  Delmin sighed. “Our exams are in the morning, and Phadre’s defense is at two bells. Add in the legwork I’ll have to do, let’s say I can have it by six bells.”

  Veranix nodded. “Kai, I need a favor. I presume you still have a stash of the money we’ve taken from Fenmere’s dealers.”

  “The expenses fund?”

  “I’ll need a new bow by midday. Arrows as well. There’s a bowyer up in Keller Cove on Craskin Street—”

  “Keller Cove? There and back by midday as well as doing my job?”

  She was right, it was too much to ask. He would have to do it himself, between his exam and Phadre’s defense. It’d be tight, and he’d not have a chance for lunch, but he needed a bow out there. If he ran into Bluejay or Blackbird or anyone else, he needed to be fighting at full capacity. “You’re right. Just leave the money at the bottom of the Spinner Run. I’ll take care of it.”

  She sighed. “How will I know what to get?”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  As the three of them walked through to Almers Hall the various patrols of cadets occasionally stopped them, but let them go just as quickly. Their dress uniforms probably contributed to that. Veranix gave Kai a quick crash course of what she’d need to know. The bowyer he was sending her to made a high quality product, so the main thing he was worried about was pull strength. Knowing Kai’s arms were probably stronger that his own, he advised her to pick something that she could draw and hold for several seconds without pain.

  She left them as they reached Almers, where the prefects let them in with little problem.

  “You boys weren’t hurt too bad?” Rellings asked them as they reached the third floor.

  “It could have been worse,” Veranix said.

  “It was worse for plenty of people,” Delmin added.

  “Just glad you two are safe. Been through enough.”

  They went into their room and shut the door. “Is it my imagination, or is Rellings turning into an almost decent person?”

  “Well, in two days, he won’t be a prefect anymore. So he needs something to fall back on.”

  Delmin started to take off the layers of the dress uniform. “Is someone going to come get us out of these?”

  “Honestly, if they try tonight, I’m going to thump them soundly across the head.”

  “I like your plan. But I’ll need your help.”

  “Likewise.” Veranix came over to unclasp things on Delmin’s back. He had some difficulty raising his arm to reach things at the top of Delmin’s shoulder. “In fact, my right arm isn’t exactly cooperating anymore.”

  “How bad?”

  “Well, I don’t think anything’s broken, but it’s very stiff and twitchy right now. Help me out of these clothes.”

  Delmin started, and gasped more than once. Veranix was starting to realize how bad it was. “You’re sure nothing’s broken?”

  “I’m in a considerable amount of pain, but broken bones tend to be a couple notches past ‘considerable.’”

  “This is a very strange scale you use.”

  “Life on the ropes, you learn to live with pain.” A thought occurred to him. “Is there a circus playing somewhere in the city?”

  “I really wouldn’t know. Why?”

  “Because these two girls who attacked me—assassins, really—I think they’re circus girls. I mean, Blackbird, definitely, but probably Bluejay as well.”

  “Their names are Blackbird and Bluejay?”

  “Swear to the saints.”

  “Well, they blackened and blued you up pretty damn well,” Delmin said. “If I felt like your body looks, I’d be a weeping ball.”

  “I kind of want to be. But I’m going to have to push through, do my stretches before going to bed, or it’s going to be worse by blazes.”

  “I don’t even want to know.”

  “What’s worse is, I am famished.” It really was a miracle he wasn’t falling down on his face at this point.

  “That meal was a lot of nothing, wasn’t it?” Delmin laughed. “I mean, delicious, every bite. All eight bites.”

  “Please tell me you still have a secret stash of apples in your wardrobe.”

  “Apples, dried lamb, mustard, bread, and cheese,” Delmin said. He opened up the wardrobe and pulled out a crate. “This wasn’t my first formal dinner, you know.” He opened up the crate and displayed the bounty.

  “Thank Professor Alimen and every saint watching for blessing me with the smartest man on campus to share a room with.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  Chapter 17

  FENMERE WALKED INTO his sitting room to find it more occupied than usual for first thing in the morning. Corman and Gerrick were on hand, as was Mister Bell. The true surprise was Laira—Owl, as she preferred now. Such company before breakfast might indicate good news, but the looks on their faces did not portend that at all.

  “Things went wrong, I presume.”

  “Putting it mildly,” Ge
rrick said.

  “Well, it depends on your perspective, for some of it,” Corman offered.

  “How is there anything bright in this?”

  “A few ways, actually, if you look at numbers . . .”

  “Gentlemen, please, I haven’t had any breakfast yet. I presume there are multiple points of failure here to be presented?”

  “Then let me speak,” Laira said. “So far my girls have had two unsuccessful encounters with the Thorn. The fight with Bluejay made quite a commotion—”

  “I had heard about that, actually. I was quite amused by the whole thing.”

  “But he got away from her before her partner could close in. As can happen. Then last night he engaged with Blackbird. Circumstances were . . . different.”

  “Different how?”

  Bell interjected his opinion. “There was a whole stampede through Cantarell Square—”

  “Mister Bell, kindly keep your thoughts to yourself until I actually ask you to speak.”

  Laira cleared her throat and continued. “Briefly, due to other parties, the situation put innocent lives in danger. Blackbird abandoned her mission to save those people.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  Laira shrugged. “My primary concern when I bring a new girl into my fold is skill. That means I will occasionally find myself with girls whose moral foundation isn’t ideal for this work. Blackbird has no trouble killing her assigned target, or even those who interfere with her assignment—”

  “She thumped some Princes who jumped in.”

  “Thank you, Mister Bell.” Fenmere gave him a look that he hoped would put the man in his place. Surely Bell knew how precarious his position was since the Thorn kept embarrassing him? He must realize his main value was as bait at this point. Perhaps he did, and that’s why he was being more brazen. Fenmere had to admit, he could respect a bit more spine in the man. That didn’t change things, though.

  “The point being, Blackbird is the type who takes action if innocent lives are in danger. As is the Thorn, apparently . . .”

  “Are you about to tell me they worked together to save a little girl and her puppy? Some honey-sweet story like that?”