Kaiana spoke up. “Like I said, I want you to be at your best out there. I remembered the rope acting strange the other night, and that’s why I wanted him to look at it.”
Delmin pointed at a part of the rope. “Right there the numinic flow is all over the place. It’s pouring and looping around and . . . I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Veranix could at least see part of what Delmin was talking about—at least, he could see how there was a hint of fraying, scratches from where Bluejay’s blades sliced the rope. “It got cut the other night.”
“Well, it’s—I didn’t realize how delicate the weaving work was. It’s far more intricate, and the slices caused damage in ways I can’t even understand.”
“I suppose asking if you can repair it—”
“Is utterly ridiculous, yes.”
Veranix knew he should have expected that answer.
“So he shouldn’t use it?” Kaiana asked.
Delmin shrugged. “Near as I can tell, it won’t work the way it’s supposed to. Instead of drawing numina to you, it’ll just clog up the flow of it. You probably felt that.”
“Kai’s right, something was wrong with it.”
Kai scooped up the rope. “Settled then. Neither of you touch this thing right now.” She almost laughed when she looked at Veranix. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
Veranix didn’t want to admit he almost felt that way. “I had gotten accustomed to it.”
Kai went down to the Spinner Run, leaving the rope behind, and came back up with a bow and quiver. “Well, get accustomed to this, now.”
The bow she had bought was a thing of beauty—he could tell just by looking at it that it was of finer craftsmanship than either of his old bows. He almost hesitated to touch it.
“Kai—how much money did you spend on this?”
“Ninety-three crowns, with the arrows.”
Ninety-three crowns was more than Kai had been paid all semester. “We had that much in the—and you just keep it here?”
“Most of it goes to the church and the ward.” By which she meant the Lower Trenn Ward, half hospital and half sanitarium, where the half-dead victims of effitte overdoses were cared for. People like her father and his mother.
He took the bow and quiver, slinging the latter over his shoulder. The weight was good, balance was perfect. Wood was likely yew, from northern Druthal. Taking position on one end of the carriage house stable, he drew an arrow and pulled it back. Draw weight was ideal.
He took the shot at the far wall. Then another, and another. Walking to the wall, he had put them in a tight grouping, right where he wanted.
“Good?” Kaiana asked.
“Perfect,” he said.
Her smile lit up the stable.
Pulling out the arrows and replacing them in the quiver, he went back to take more shots. “Tell me about getting that name, Delmin. Because I’m told there is now a death toll.”
“I don’t know the name yet. But I know who does know it, and where that person is. I can go after Phadre’s defense.”
“Will it take long?” Veranix kept shooting.
“It’s a bit of a hike, and then however long it takes there, and then back. I don’t even know.”
“I’ll go with you, then.” He knocked out arrows as fast as he could. “This is really excellent, Kai.”
“Good,” she said. “So, I don’t think you should start your hunt from here. Especially if you still have assassins after you.”
“Right. Blackbird already saw me come from campus, so I should at least not take any more chances along those lines.”
“I certainly would appreciate not having assassins or anyone else come here looking for you. I live here. There’s a flop for rent above a laundry and press shop on Tulip.” She took the bow and quiver from him. “I’ll have your things squared away there by this evening.”
“You’ve enough money still?”
“Enough for that,” she said. “But you might need to get back to smacking around effitte dealers this summer.”
“I do not want to hear this,” Delmin said. “Aren’t you going to have other duties over the summer?”
“Whatever Professor Alimen wants,” Veranix said. “He’s been hinting about me doing something for the Grand Tournament of High Colleges.”
“Hinting what? We can’t compete.” Rules about magic students competing in any athletic competition were almost absurdly strict.
“I just do what I’m told,” Veranix said.
“That is the opposite of truth.”
“So,” Kai said. “Bow, quiver, arrows, staff. Cloak, boots, vest, and the rest of the outfit. No rope.”
“No rope,” Veranix said, more than a little worried. The rope had literally saved him from Bluejay. If he was really going to go out there to get the Prankster, risk Bluejay or anyone else after him out there, he’d have to be in top form. No room for mistakes.
“All right, then,” Kai said.
There was a knock on the door.
Kai quickly put the weapons under a tarp, and then went to answer it.
Phadre was there, with a paper in hand.
“Oh, morning, gents,” he said. He clearly wasn’t expecting to see Veranix and Delmin, and Veranix was nearly certain he was covering up his disappointment in not getting Kaiana to himself right now. “Good to see you. Will save me the trouble of hunting you down later. How are you feeling, Veranix?”
“Well enough.”
“Right, well, I didn’t see you after the whole . . . well, you know. Really well done in there, implementing Jiarna’s idea. You saved a lot of people. The professor noticed.”
“I trust he’s fine.”
“Well as can be. He can walk, but his legs did get . . . I can’t rightly describe it. There were nasty boils, and . . . it was quite unpleasant, but he’s bearing it.”
Veranix was glad to hear that. “Well, we’ll see him at the defense. Two bells?”
“Yes, and it’s in the lecture hall, where Alimen teaches his theory classes.” He chuckled nervously. “Presuming nothing else happens. We’ve had quite the poor luck, eh, gents?”
“Quite,” Delmin said. “Maybe we should all have lunch, then? Leave Kai to her work?”
“Yes,” Veranix said. “Capital idea.”
“Right, yes,” Phadre said. He gave another uncomfortable laugh. “But, well.” He fidgeted with the paper in his hand.
“Is that something you need to give me?” Kaiana asked.
“No. Well, yes.” He held it out to Kaiana, extending his arm as far as possible, as if he were afraid she might hit him. “I know it’s an imposition, but if you could . . .”
She opened up the paper and gave a quick look. “I can take care of this.” Her tone was guarded, neutral. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Don’t worry about it, then.”
Kai’s tone of voice left Veranix nothing but worried.
Phadre, on the hand, seemed relieved, exhaling deeply before clapping his hands together. “Yes, then. Lunch, indeed.”
“Go, all of you,” Kai said. “I’ve got plenty to do.”
Veranix tried to hang back and get one last word in. “Kai, I just—”
“Go.”
The carriage house door slammed behind them, as the three stood out in the hot spring sun.
“Come on,” Delmin said. “We stand out here too long, the cadets will get suspicious of us.”
Chapter 18
BELL HAD BEEN TOLD to take a few boys and figured four qualified as “a few.” He brought his cannery overseers, the guys who went about on collections in the blocks around Necker Square. Good lads he trusted, but not ones he would ever bring directly to Fenmere. These guys, they would never talk to anyone higher than Corman, and that wou
ld only be if they were in trouble.
No strutting going into Aventil. It didn’t suit them to look like a passel of Fenmere’s heavies crossing Waterpath. No need to call attention to themselves, not until they reached the Trusted Friend. Just five guys walking along with the regular foot traffic of Carnation. They didn’t even walk together, Bell letting the rest take the lead. Each would go into the Trusted Friend on his own—it was a Rabbit hangout but they would serve any folk who came along, as long as they weren’t from another Aventil gang.
When Bell got there, the place had fewer Rabbits than he was expecting. Blazes, with his four guys, they were pretty evenly matched.
And Keckin and Sotch were nowhere to be seen.
“Where are your captains?” he asked the two Rabbits nursing ciders at the closest table. “Keckin and Sotch, or any others.”
“Ain’t any captains here right now,” the Rabbit said. “Maybe a few over in Quarrygate. Some . . . elsewhere.”
“I didn’t ask who was here,” Bell said, coming over and leaning on the table. “I asked where they were.”
“Blazes, I don’t know.”
“Keeny, check his memory.”
One of the boys came and grabbed the Rabbit by the scruff of his neck. Before Keeney could do anything, the Rabbit twisted out and jumped away from the table.
“Hey, hey, what the blazes? You ain’t gotta give me hassle. We’ve been through some stuff here.”
“Been through, been through,” Bell said. “And yet your caps, Keckin and Sotch, they made deals. Money is owed. Do you have our money?”
“Hey, I don’t know about that.” The Rabbit held up his hands. “You can’t put it on me.” His friend also got to his feet, backing away.
“Why?” Bell asked. “Deal was made with the Rabbits. You two have fur coats. Maybe we should take what we’re owed from you.”
“Leave ’em be.” From the door, an older man with four chevrons on his fur-lined coat. He was flanked by four of his own men. This wasn’t a captain. A boss above them.
“So you’re the one I should talk to.” Bell flexed his fingers and sat down. “Glad to have you here.”
“I got no cause to talk to you,” the Rabbit boss said.
“No, I think you do. See, I’m just here being courteous. Money is owed to us. So I’m asking nicely for the folks under your charge—namely, Keckin and Sotch—to make good on that debt. Or you do it yourself. I really don’t care how it’s paid. The important thing, to me, is that this doesn’t have to move beyond a courteous request.”
“You want courtesy?” The boss sat down opposite Bell. “Then, please, forget about any money, any effitte, any deal you feel might be in existence with Keckin and Sotch. It’s dead. Take your friends and go home now. While you still can.”
Bell was almost impressed by the audacity. “Maybe you don’t realize who you are talking to when you are talking to me. Right now, I’m not the man sitting in front of you. I’m not merely one guy here with four other blokes who could slap you around. Right now, you’re talking to Dentonhill. You are talking to Mister Fenmere. Do you grasp that? And if Mister Fenmere says there is a deal with Keckin and Sotch, and they need to make good, then it’s something you need to listen to.”
The boss reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a vial. He placed it on the table. It looked like the typical effitte vial, except the liquid inside was bright red instead of lavender.
“That is why you’re wrong.”
This boss seemed so blasted sure of himself. Bell was almost impressed. “And what is that?”
“We’re calling it ‘the Red.’” He shrugged. “Not the most original name, but it works. It’s as effective as effitte, more addictive, cleaner bite. Less trance with this stuff.”
“Of course there is.” Bell had heard this sort of talk before. Everyone wanted to believe there was a “safe” effitte, or some other sewage.
The boss clearly didn’t care what Bell thought. “And we don’t need to smuggle in a damn thing to make it. And we’re the only one who has it.”
“You really think so?” Bell asked. “Even if that isn’t a vial of sewage, how long do you think you’ll have before Fenmere—”
“All right, we’re done.”
Just as he said that, his boys jumped on Bell’s blokes, fast as anything, and pummeled them with thin dirks. Bell didn’t even have a chance to grab one of his own knives before his men were down on the ground. Hands came out of nowhere, grabbing Bell by the wrist and neck. His face was pressed onto the table.
“You are so stupid,” Bell said. “Do you have any idea what kind of fire you’re going to get?”
“I can imagine,” the Rabbit boss said. “Now, since I’m talking to Dentonhill, since I’m talking to Mister Fenmere, let me make something very clear. The Red Rabbits are through being kicked around by him. He comes for us he’s gonna find more of this. If he thinks he’s going to bring fire, we’ll burn him to the ground.”
“You all are crazy.” Bell grunted, struggling to lift his head off the table. “You really think you’re going to stand up to him. Better tried and were buried.”
“You have no idea what we’ve already done, or what’s coming.” The Rabbit boss walked out of Bell’s sightline. “Put him somewhere they won’t find him, until we’re ready. And clean this place up.”
Bell was ready to scream obscenities at them all. They weren’t going to get away with this.
A hood went over his head, and before he could pull away, his hands were bound behind him. Hands yanked him to his feet and dragged him out the back.
Fine, let them have their moment right now. Before this was over, Fenmere was going to grind them up and paint the walls of Aventil with the paste of their bones.
Phadre was a sweating, distracted mess as they carted his equipment from Bolingwood Tower over to the lecture hall. Every few seconds he glanced over his shoulder, as if he expected someone to jump out at him.
Not that Veranix could blame him. Defense of Letters was stressful enough, add in how he had been in the middle of at least two of the Prankster’s attacks, anyone would be an explosion of nerves. He was amazed that Phadre could even walk straight.
“How long do we have to set these up?” he asked for the seventh time.
“Twenty minutes,” Veranix said, again. Which should be fine. They were all assembled and calibrated. Perfect. “You’ve got this.”
“So it’s twenty to two bells.”
Veranix was about to say it was thirty minutes to two bells, but a glance from Delmin told him to be quiet. Fine.
“Where do you want us to place what?” Veranix asked as they reached the lecture hall.
“Line the instruments up on the display desk,” Phadre said, eyes darting all over the room. “This is really it, hmm?”
“You’ll do fine,” Delmin said.
“Blazes, you’ve nearly got me understanding this,” Veranix said. “That, my friend, is an accomplishment.”
“I just hope we’ve accounted for all the variables. Positions of the moons, the sun.”
“Did you chart each of the inconstant stars?” a voice called from the upper galley. “Though I haven’t been able to isolate their individual gravity in terms of numinic shift.” Jiarna leaned forward out of the shadows.
“I could probably point to each one right now,” Phadre said. “Enevium and Kioxu are probably in a different place from our calibrations, but I think the effect would barely be in microbarins.”
“Eight point two microbarins, actually,” Jiarna said.
Phadre’s face went pale.
“I’m only joking,” Jiarna said suddenly. “Really, I have no idea.”
“Let him be, would you?” Veranix said. “Poor guy is about to—”
“It’s fine, Vee,” Phadre said. “I’ll . . . it’ll be f
ine. Just help me get the instruments in place.”
They placed each device—Phadre had names for each one, but they all went over Veranix’s head—and Phadre double-checked that they were set up to his liking. He then rolled out the slateboard and placed it to the side of the desk. Veranix and Delmin stepped back as he paced back and forth between the board and the desk.
“I think that’s it,” he said. “You know your parts?”
“I do,” Delmin said, taking a piece of chalk and standing at the ready by the slateboard.
“I’ve learned my cues,” Veranix said. “Promise I won’t improvise.”
“Good, good,” Phadre said. “Because I’m going to.”
Before Veranix could ask what he meant by that, a few professors came in the room. At least three of them were in the attack the night before, and they were being helped by some of the others. Professor Alimen came in on his own, though walking slowly.
“Mister Calbert,” he said hoarsely. “I’m gratified to see you are well. I’m given to understand we owe a great debt to your quick thinking last night.”
Veranix offered his arm to the professor. “Quick action, perhaps. I left the thinking to people much smarter than me.”
Alimen waved off his help. “And that alone is showing growth in wisdom. But you weren’t to be found immediately afterward.”
“Yes, well,” Veranix said, “with so many people in need of care, I thought it best just to get out of the way.”
“Still, I’m glad to see with my own eyes that you are unharmed.”
“I’m glad to see you on your feet, after . . .”
“Yes, well, it was an unpleasant experience.” Alimen leaned in and whispered, “Confidentially, I am cheating a bit with magic. Mister Sarren is surely aware. I may need all summer to truly recuperate. I will be counting on you, Veranix.”
“I’ll be here, sir.”
“Good. I should sit and stop drawing numina to hold myself up. I would sully Mister Golmin’s results. We can’t have that.”
He and the other professors took their seats at the front of the lecture hall.
“At your convenience, Mister Golmin,” Alimen said.
The Alchemy of Chaos: A Novel of Maradaine (Maradaine Novels) Page 23
