The Imposters of Aventil

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “And you’re going to protect Sotch?”

  Colin shrugged. “I don’t like her, but I still believe in the Pact. And the whole point of that was, no matter what’s happening inside Aventil, nobody gets to come from outside and mess with it. So against this imposter, I’ve got Sotch’s back.”

  Veranix didn’t quite know how to respond to that. Quite a few of the Aventil gangs—even many of the Princes—would see him as someone from “outside.”

  “All right,” he said. “Signal me if you hear anything. I’ve got sales creeping onto campus, so I’ve got my own trouble.”

  “Keep sharp,” Colin said, taking Veranix into an embrace. “Stay away from Deadly Birds.”

  “Not advice I’d have thought I’d need,” Veranix said.

  “All right, get out of here,” Colin said, breaking away. “Get out there.”

  Veranix put his facade back up. “Keep sharp, yourself.”

  “Always,” Colin said.

  Veranix left the room and climbed up to the clock tower, collecting his weapons. He probably would need them, especially if the Constabulary spotted him.

  Minox Welling, Inspector Third Class of the Maradaine Constabulary, found his way to Lieutenant Benvin’s special task force squad room. The able-bodied members of the squad sat in quiet contemplation. While Minox had never received a proper introduction, thanks to Jace he was already well versed on who they were.

  Sergeant Trinnit Tripper was the ranking member of the task force with Lieutenant Benvin out of commission. Ten years of footpatrol, most of that in Dentonhill. From a southern Druth family, still with a strong Linjari accent. Smart and dedicated—they all were smart and dedicated, of course, that was why they were on this task force—but with a file jacket full of reprimands. Most of those, from what Minox had determined, were due to a failure to hold his tongue when a superior did something foolish. He had also tried to expose graft and bribery in the Dentonhill house, which resulted in his transfer and subsequent ostracism in this stationhouse. Sergeant Tripper had few friends outside of this room.

  Patrolman Kendall Pollit was another unique case, and from Minox’s understanding, one which required some delicacy. Had Minox not been informed by his brother, he would have presumed that Pollit was a woman dressed in disguise as a man. “That ain’t rightly it,” Jace had said. “Far as any of us are concerned, Pollit is a bloke. It ain’t some pretend or disguise for Pollit. Rest of the house gives us sewage, gives Pollit sewage, but the Left said everybody has the right to be who they want to be. Makes a strange kind of sense to me.” Minox had found himself agreeing with that principle—an Uncircled Mage who stayed in the Constabulary could hardly think anything different.

  Patrolman Gummen Wheth was relatively fresh out of his cadethood, from a family that emigrated from Ch’omikTaa. Ch’omiki immigrants had much in common with Racquin, having fled their home country in fear of war and oppression. Unlike the Racquin, who had some cultural connection with the Druth and could sometimes pass in appearance—such as Minox’s mother—the Ch’omik stood out strongly. With umber brown skin and thick black hair, Wheth was probably the singular member of the Constabulary in the entire city with his heritage.

  Minox sometimes wondered how Jace ended up with this group. Lieutenant Benvin had collected outcasts, and they rewarded him with loyalty. In what way was his brother one of them?

  How much is Jace like me? Minox wondered. The Inemar Constabulary House might not have had a Benvin, but fortunately Captain Cinellan recognized talent and capability in whatever form it took. Which was why Minox, outsider even before he discovered he was a mage, was where he was, same as Inspector Rainey. Her impressive skill for investigation combined with her unbreakable tenacity made her the best partner he could hope for. She came into the room at his side.

  “So what’s the word, specs?” Tripper asked. “You finished with the questioning?”

  “For the time being, I’m satisfied that I’ve gotten what is worthwhile from the witnesses.”

  “I imagine so,” Tripper said. “Seemed pretty straightforward.”

  “It would probably seem that way,” Minox said. “Many of them gave practically the same testimony.”

  “Right?” Tripper said. “And you talked to Saitle, right?”

  “Welling,” Rainey said lightly. “It’s technically against protocol to discuss this with them.”

  “Protocol, but not regulation,” Minox said. “But what is regulation, is that as part of our investigation we are empowered to utilize facilities and personnel at the stationhouse our investigation is centered at. I believe that this squad room and these officers would serve well for those ends.”

  Rainey gave him one of her looks, which he knew meant she was skeptical of his plan, but was not going to gainsay it.

  “We did talk to Cadet Saitle,” she said. “His testimony was scattered, but fundamentally in line with a majority of the ones we heard.”

  “Right, then, that pretty much settles it, don’t it?” Tripper said. “We’ve got cause for full searches for the Thorn. We’ve already got a fair amount of legwork—”

  “It isn’t settled,” Minox said.

  “But you just said—”

  “That Cadet Saitle’s testimony was in line with most of the rest. And the testimony of many of the witnesses was remarkably similar. They all reported the ‘Thorn’ filling the street with magical smoke, then coming out and attacking Lieutenant Benvin and the others.”

  Tripper looked at him incredulously. “Then what, sir, is the blasted problem?”

  “There’s the testimony of Delmin Sarren.”

  “Who the blazes is he?”

  Jace spoke up. “He’s the one who protected the lieutenant. The magic student.”

  “So?”

  “He explicitly noted that the smoke was not magical in nature. He knew it.”

  “He’s a magic student, so?” This was Wheth. “I mean, he’d know, no one else in the crowd would. Makes sense.”

  “True,” Minox said. “But Mister Sarren also did not identify the assailant as the Thorn.”

  “He’s a Uni kid,” Pollit said. “He might not know about the Thorn like the locals.”

  “Perhaps,” Minox said. He decided not to mention that Delmin Sarren himself was quick to point out that he did not identify the assailant as the Thorn. That was crucial. It was clear to Minox that Mister Sarren knew—not suspected or didn’t want to confirm, but knew with complete certainty—that the assailant was not the Thorn.

  That certainty made Mister Sarren a very interesting witness.

  Jace spoke up. “So what do you need from us, Mi—Inspector?”

  Inspector Rainey answered. “We’re going to want to go over all the lieutenant’s work, and get up to speed with the details here in Aventil.”

  “No, look,” Tripper said. “We appreciate you all coming out here to help us, but you asked your questions, you told us your opinion. We’ll handle it from here.”

  “We’re not done, Sergeant,” Minox said. “And it isn’t yours to say.”

  “And it ain’t yours to dig through the Left’s files!”

  “Trip—” Pollit said. “I don’t think it’s like that.”

  “The blazes it ain’t,” Tripper said. “We shouldn’t need these folks going through our business when we should be dragging the Princes in here.”

  Minox glanced at his notes to refresh his memories of the various gangs in the neighborhood. “Why the Rose Street Princes?”

  Wheth provided the answer. “Left was pretty sure they were protecting the Thorn, or he was one of them.”

  “Is that just some sort of ‘roses have thorns’ thing?” Inspector Rainey asked. “Or is that based on something hard?”

  “Kid we ironed and sent to Quarry few months back,” Pollit said. “Prince who helped the Tho
rn, and refused to talk about him. We offered him a deal to finger the Thorn, wouldn’t take it.”

  “Not surprised,” Jace muttered.

  Minox knew Jace was keeping something to himself—it would be obvious, even if Minox wasn’t already privy to the information. Jace had absolutely no suspicion of the Thorn in this case, or as someone the Constabulary ought to be pursuing. The Thorn had saved Jace’s life during a stampede of mad horses, and due to that, Jace couldn’t believe the Thorn would do anything like attack Lieutenant Benvin.

  Minox couldn’t believe it either. But it was clear Sergeant Tripper was already set in his opinion, and he was willing to make the facts fit his theory.

  “This is what I believe, Sergeant,” Minox said. “That we are not dealing with the Thorn, but a deliberate imposter, someone who already held a grudge against the lieutenant and used the guise of the Thorn to be able to attack him in plain sight.”

  “That’s just absurd,” Tripper said.

  “Why?” Inspector Rainey asked. “Anyone with a cloak and bow and a few tricks from a chemist’s shop could do what the killer did.”

  “But the Thorn—”

  “The question is simple, Sergeant,” Rainey said bluntly. “Do you want to get the man responsible for Benvin, Mal, and Saitle, or do you want to whine about the Thorn?”

  Tripper looked like he was going to shout at Rainey for a moment, but then pulled back. He glanced about the room, finally locking eyes with Jace. Jace gave him a little nod.

  “Pol,” he said quietly. “Show the inspectors what they need. I’m going to get some tea.”

  He stalked out of the room.

  “Well,” Rainey said, taking a seat at one of the desks. “Let’s get to work.”

  Things required Kaiana’s attention.

  That had been the theme all day, which she had been expecting. The Tournament was giving her and the grounds staff more than enough work repairing the damage done by the previous day’s events and the night’s revels. The south lawn was a mess, flower beds trampled on, and at some point in the middle of the night a group had managed to uproot one of the trees.

  The tree had been her priority, and with a few workers and a lot of rope, they got it back upright. She hoped that with some care it could be saved. Most of the roots were still intact, and getting it back in the soil might just keep it alive.

  “Something you need to see, Miss Nell.”

  Kaiana sighed, having almost gotten the tree to stand up on its own. The young worker—she had forgotten his name—stood earnestly over her.

  “What is it?” she asked, brushing the dirt off her knees as she stood.

  “Over at the bathhouses.”

  “In the bathhouses, or outside near the bathhouses?” she asked. She better not be expected to deal with inside the bathhouses. For one, it wasn’t the grounds, it was a building, and that should fall to housing or maintenance or some other department of the staff. For another, since the various athletes from all over Druthal had arrived, the bathhouses had more or less turned into a brothel. The usual division of baths between genders—what had always been polite custom rather than rule—had devolved into meaninglessness. When Kaiana had gone over the other day, she immediately observed coupling—and tripling and more—of flesh in every possible combination, and walked right out.

  So no bath for her until this was all over, and even then not until copious amounts of soap and vinegar had been applied to every surface.

  “I wasn’t told, Miss Nell. I just was told to fetch you, because you wanted to know about this sort of thing.”

  That got her attention. “Lead the way.”

  She was led behind the bathhouses, where Rennie and Lash were standing over three students—not U of M boys, but Kaiana couldn’t tell where they were from. This was in no small part due to the fact that they were only wearing their linens, and their bodies were still damp. They must have been in the bathhouses recently. Now they were sitting on the grass looking terrified. Rennie and Lash hovered over the three boys like a couple of thugs, holding their pruning tools like they were ready to beat the boys.

  “Here she comes,” Rennie said. “Now you boys are going to get the crunch.”

  So now they were her thugs. Kaiana wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  “What’s the news?” Kaiana asked, doing her best to sound authoritative. Rennie and Lash had clearly built her up as an authority to these boys.

  “We found these young men throwing some vials on the ground, can you imagine?” Lash said. “Miss Nell here has opinions about boys who do effitte on campus.”

  One of the boys burst into tears right away. All three of them were about Veranix’s age and build—tetchball players, likely—but this one had a younger face than the other two. He launched into a hysterical rant. “We didn’t mean . . . we just thought . . . please don’t make us go to our chaperones, we won’t do it again.”

  “Saints, boy, have some spine,” Rennie said.

  “Calm down,” Kaiana said, squatting down in front of the boys. He was still a mess of tears, and the other two looked like they might burst out at any moment. “So you all thought you’d get yourself buzzed on effitte, hit the bathhouses, and get yourselves polished up while flying?”

  “Something like that,” one of the calmer boys said.

  “You flying now?” she asked them, grabbing that one by the chin to look into his eyes. The pupils were huge and wide. He was fully in. Probably they all were.

  “How’d you catch them?” she asked Rennie.

  “Lash and I saw that one throwing the vials out the window of the bathhouse,” Rennie said, pointing at the crying one. “So we grabbed his arms and pulled him out, and yelled to the other two that they better come out.”

  “Should have ran,” one of the boys said. “Stupid.”

  “Couldn’t leave Tensy.”

  “He was caught already. Now we all are.”

  “Roll your rutting hand, Gorm!” Tensy shouted over his tears. “This was your rutting plan!”

  “Was it?” Kaiana asked. “Well, we have to decide what to do with you boys.”

  “Who even is this napa?” Gorm snarled. “She ain’t a prefect or cadet or nothing.”

  Kaiana gave him the back of her hand, which made even Rennie and Lash gasp. “I don’t care for that term, Gorm.”

  “Say you’re sorry!” Tensy cried.

  “Sorry,” Gorm mumbled.

  “Now, we could just bring you all to your chaperones, and you’d be scrubbed from the games, for sure.”

  “Please, no,” Tensy said.

  Kaiana glanced over at Rennie and Lash, who seemed to be enjoying this game, perhaps too much. She didn’t trust either of them farther than the length of her arm, but she figured they would play along if they thought it was fun. “So, which one of you bought the stuff?”

  “It was Gorm!” Tensy said.

  “You rutting bastard.”

  “Well, you did!”

  “This is the last time I ever—”

  “Boys!” Kaiana barked, surprising even herself at how harsh she sounded. “I’m going to give you an opportunity here. First off, do you still have any of it?”

  “Yeah,” the third boy said. “It’s with our clothes inside.”

  “Lash, go with him to fetch it. And bring their clothes as well.”

  “Why do I have to—”

  “Lash!” Kaiana snapped.

  “Saints, fine,” he said, giving a glance over to Rennie. A glance that Kaiana interpreted as meaning that they had underestimated how she would handle being forced to be responsible for things. Maybe they wouldn’t be bothering her anymore. More likely, they would find a new way. He pulled the third boy up to his feet and trotted him over to the bathhouse entrance.

  “Rennie, take Tensy here and bring him
to the tool shed.”

  Rennie paled. “What are we going to do to him in the tool shed?” There was a strange tone to his voice, like he was both afraid and excited at the same time.

  Kaiana rolled her eyes. Perhaps she was playing the part a little too strongly. “He’s going to wait there, calmly. And so are you.”

  Rennie looked mostly relieved, but also slightly disappointed. He took Tensy by the arm and dragged him off.

  After a moment, Gorm jumped to his feet and tried to run. Kaiana grabbed him by the front of his linens and pushed him right back down to the grass. He struggled, but he couldn’t push back up strong enough to get on his feet again. He looked like he was contemplating the value of actually punching her, but then thought better of it.

  “So now what?” Gorm asked when he settled.

  “Now you tell me where you got it.”

  Gorm stewed for a moment. “I heard you had to go into Dentonhill. So I went over there, and looked around, found a lady who was selling. Gave her crowns and bought it. Pretty simple.”

  “Pretty simple,” she repeated. Too damn simple, that’s what it was. Dentonhill Constabulary probably didn’t even bother to crack down on it.

  “So what are you going to do, lady?”

  “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, Gorm,” she said, plan forming in her head. “You’re going to be the bait.”

  For the first time, he really looked scared. “What does that mean?”

  “I mean, while your friends are cooling their boots in the tool shed, you’re going to run an errand for me.”

  Chapter 7

  VERANIX RETURNED TO the carriage house to find everyone there waiting. Delmin sat on a crate, looking spooked and exhausted. Kaiana paced around, while Phadre watched Jiarna draw something on Kai’s worktable.

  “I take it there’s news,” Veranix said.

  “Vee,” Delmin said, coming over to Veranix and grabbing him in a strong embrace. “Good to see you.”

  “I’m fine, Del,” he said. “Blazes, it sounds like you saw more . . . excitement last night than I did.”