“Scored a point, got kicked out, but we got hold of the drug.”
“So we know who’s selling?”
“Not that simple. It’s . . . it’s not effitte. But it’s still dangerous.”
He nodded. “Then we’ll get this as well.”
She smiled. “Jiarna is working on a plan.”
“Good.” His eyes were closed, he was almost out. “Wake me when we’re going to get the bastards.”
Chapter 23
SATRINE HAD TO take command of the situation when the whistle calls were finally responded to. Lockwagons and footpatrol and Yellowshields rolled into the church square, and Satrine was the closest thing to an authority in the area. Fortunately, no one questioned her authority, despite her outrageous costume.
She had to do it with a Yellowshield nearly attached to her leg. She barely sat down long enough for the poor man to dress her wound. She made the Yellowshields focus on Corrie and Pollit. Pollit was mostly dazed from getting the shackle knocked across his head, but Corrie had an open gash on her hairline. The only reason why Satrine hadn’t arrested the preacher was because he—despite his own bleeding nose—had leaped onto Corrie to stem her bleeding.
Tripper, Wheth, and the cadets had had their hands full with the Knights and Orphans, many of whom scattered once the wagons had rolled in. Satrine had let that Orphan captain Yessa slip off into the night, despite her better judgment. That had been the deal, and she recognized that the girl was an asset to Benvin’s squad as long as she was on the streets. It wasn’t her place to remove that. Besides, that girl was about the only one who hadn’t attacked anyone.
“Has anyone seen Welling?” she asked once the Yellowshield let her walk away. “Sweep the area until we find him.”
“He chased after the Thorns,” Wheth said. “I saw that when I came down from my perch to help the sergeant. I didn’t see what happened to him next.”
“Which way?”
Wheth led toward the mouth of an alley, where she came upon an incredible sight.
Three women—actual Deadly Birds, she presumed from their dress—were wrapped in an absurdly giant chain, struggling to get free. A fourth lay dead on the ground from arrow wounds.
And Minox Welling—he lay on the ground, eyes shut, peaceful expression on his face. As if he had simply decided to take a nap once he caught these women. He was breathing, and despite the torn-up uniform and cuts and bruises on his face, there was something oddly serene in his expression. In their months together, through many bizarre circumstances, this was one of the strangest things she’d seen.
“Go get a Yellowshield,” she told Wheth, and he ran off.
“Welling?” she asked, shaking his shoulder.
He opened his eyes. “Inspector Rainey?” he said calmly. “Are you injured?”
“Yes, but—” She was surprised by the serenity in his question. “I’ll be all right, I think. You?”
“I’ve had a singular experience, which I will need to process.” He sat up. “I presume we can process these arrests, so this endeavor will not be a complete loss.”
“The Thorn escaped,” she said. “Both of them.” Though one of them—the true Thorn—had protected her and the others from the fraud, despite their attempts to apprehend him.
“Yes, he did. Both of them.”
“You saw them? The real one and the fraud?”
“As I said, Inspector Rainey. A singular experience.”
He was keeping his own counsel for the moment. She was used to that. “You couldn’t have done . . . this on your own.”
“And I do not claim that. Nor can I claim, in good conscience, that I have acted in full accord with my office.”
She decided not to let him dance around it anymore. “Did you let the Thorn go, Minox?”
He thought for a moment. “Strictly speaking, to let him go, I would have had to have him under my authority. That never occurred.”
“You’re convinced of his innocence.”
“I am convinced, beyond any shade, that he is not responsible for the attack on Lieutenant Benvin.” That was an interesting specification.
She sighed. “You aren’t the only one.”
“Your own singular experience?”
“Arrows from the imposter, coming for my throat. And Corrie’s. But the Thorn stopped them.”
Welling’s eyes lit up. “Did he put himself at risk for your safety?”
She thought about what happened. It had all been a bit of a blur. “Yes, I think so. Even after Pollit slapped the mage shackles on him.”
“He was—” Welling thought for a moment. “Remarkable.”
Wheth came running back over with a Yellowshield. “Who’s hurt?”
“I should probably be checked over, as I took quite a few blows to the body and head,” Welling said. That was unusual for Welling. He usually resisted any medical ministrations beyond the most obviously necessary. “Mister Wheth, make sure these three get put into a lockwagon, and call for a bodyman for the fourth.”
Satrine walked out of the alley with Welling and the Yellowshield. “So, is this it? Are we done with Aventil, at least for this investigation?”
“I am loath to say yes,” Welling said as he sat down on a Yellowshield cart. The ’shield started checking his eyes and ears while he spoke. “Strictly speaking, we have not achieved anything resembling closing our investigation. We may have eliminated the Thorn as a suspect, but we are not closer to apprehending or even identifying a proper one. But perhaps the arrest of wanted assassins fulfills the requirements of the hollow victory you spoke of.”
“And a bunch of Orphans and Knights.” Jace had approached, adding this insight.
“Hardly remarkable in this neighborhood.”
“The question is, do we go back to Inemar tomorrow?” Rainey asked. “No offense, Jace, but I’m rather done with Aventil.”
“It has its charms.”
“I don’t know about your investigation,” the Yellowshield said. “But I’d like to get both of you back to the stationhouse ward, if not Lower Trenn. He’s got a bruise on his temple that warrants further observation. And you, lady. How are you even standing up?”
“Painfully,” Satrine admitted.
Jace added, “One of the other ’shields wanted to bring Corrie in for the same reason. Though she has a duck egg swelling on her head.”
“I consent to that,” Welling said. “And I think you should let yourself be brought in as well, Inspector Rainey.”
“It’s already one bell in the dark, so why not,” Satrine said. “Jace, you’re unhurt?”
“Followed the rules this time, specs,” he said. “Stayed out of the fracas.”
“Hope for him yet,” she said to Welling.
“Go directly home,” Welling said to Jace. “Make sure Mother knows Corrie and I are fine and not to worry. Then get some sleep. Don’t come in until nine bells in the morning.”
“So you want me to lie to Mother.”
“I want you to make sure she does not worry.”
“Lie.”
Welling chuckled lightly. “As you see fit.”
“Veranix, wake up.” Delmin, shaking him.
“Is there class?” Veranix asked, wondering why he was sleeping on the floor.
“Still summer, fool,” Delmin said.
Veranix opened his eyes. Carriage house. Now he remembered.
“We been here all night?”
“Jiarna’s been at it all night,” he said. “We’ve been napping, but . . .”
“What?”
“Colin is here.”
“Oh.” Veranix looked around. Jiarna was still working at her table, with Phadre and Kaiana looking over her shoulders. Colin stood to the side, looking like he had spent the night in a sewer tunnel. “How is that all going?”
“J
iarna says she’s just about ready, but she’ll need you.”
“All right,” Veranix said. “Give me a minute.” There was something in Colin’s energy that made it seem as if he wanted to talk privately.
“I’ll be right over there,” Delmin said, going back to the table. Colin came over, furtive glances at the rest. As he came close, it was clear his hands and shirt were spattered with blood. He had clearly gone through something during the night.
“You look like blazes,” Veranix said.
“You as well,” Colin said. “Who’d your face tangle with?”
“The Hunter, some deadly Birds—”
“Then you’re lucky to still have a face.”
Veranix grimaced. “The Hunter still got away. Plus I had a group of constables pretending to be Birds.”
Colin raised an eyebrow. “You going to have more of a stick problem?”
“I have one, period. I don’t know how I could have more of one.” Though Inspector Welling didn’t stop him from getting away. He could have, but didn’t. “Though you should know, the sticks pretending to be Birds? That was set up by Yessa.”
“The Orphan captain?” Colin scowled. “The blazes you go to her for?”
“Priest’s idea. A bad one.”
“I’ll say. Blazes, Yessa is snitching to the sticks?”
“Maybe,” Veranix said, hands up. “I wouldn’t swear it. She might have been tricked or something.”
“Orphan problem, not mine,” Colin said. “All right, I’ve got real news to tell you.”
“I hope it’s good.”
“It is, but you won’t like it all. The Jester isn’t an issue anymore.”
“What?” Veranix couldn’t believe it. “When, how?”
“I tussled with him, took him down. He’s still alive, but he ain’t happy about it.”
“I’m . . . thank you. So who the blazes was he?”
“Some wandering bow-for-hire, or minstrel. Or both.”
“For hire?”
“Hired by Bell.”
“You mean Fenmere.”
“From what I gathered from this guy, Bell isn’t in Fenmere’s good graces. Maybe this was a play to get back in. But he wanted the Rabbits done, wanted you disgraced. So he found this guy.”
“From what you gathered?” Veranix wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details.
“Don’t worry about it. Or the rest.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Bell. Don’t—I’ve got it. I’m going to pay him a little visit.”
“You are?” That meant Colin was going to cross into Dentonhill. Walking those streets with the Rose on his arm was a huge risk for him to take.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Veranix glanced back over to Kaiana and the others, finalizing Jiarna’s strange plan. “I’ve got enough to handle.”
“But if you need it—if it can help you, I can give you this. The guy, and all his toys, are at a house. Number nineteen Branch. Maybe give him to the sticks, get them off your back.”
“Leaving me with just the Hunter, Birds, and a campus filled with some strange drug.”
“Effitte?”
“No. I—I don’t even know. But I can’t let whatever it is come in here, any more than I would effitte.”
“All right,” Colin said. He grabbed Veranix and pulled him into an embrace. “You keep yourself together, cousin.”
Veranix hugged him back, and he wondered just what Colin was planning. “You too. Don’t do anything too stupid.”
“I know,” Colin said. “That’s your job.”
He broke off, heading over to the worktable. He peered around, clearly making Delmin and Phadre a bit uncomfortable. Jiarna, of course, was unfazed.
“Hey, shags,” Colin said to Delmin. “No matter what, ride him like a pedalcart this year. Full marks, you hear?”
Delmin smiled. “I’ll tie him to the desk.”
“You kids—I wish I had a crew of Princes like you all. I’d own the streets.”
Before anyone could respond to that, he slipped out the door, one last salute to Veranix as he went into the dawn.
It hit Veranix like thunder. He might never see his cousin again.
“We’re ready,” Jiarna said. “Veranix, I need you.”
Time to go to work.
Minox didn’t sleep much, partly because the night doctor on duty at the Aventil stationhouse made a point of waking him at regular intervals. There was, apparently, a medical cause for this that Minox neither understood nor cared about. He was more concerned about Corrie. She had been lucid, even jovial, but the welt on her head was grossly swollen. The doctor insisted she rest, and he made arrangements for a Yellowshield cart to take her to a proper ward hospital. Minox had to spend some time arguing to send her to Ironheart in Inemar before the doctor finally relented.
Inspector Rainey had dozed off once she was given a dose of doph for the pain in her leg. It was the same leg she had injured months before, so the long-term effects would not slow her down any more than she already had been by that incident. He was impressed by how well she had borne the pain, kept going on with her duty despite the injury. Not surprised, but impressed. Inspector Rainey always impressed him.
Minox’s lack of sleep was not just due to the doctor’s ministrations or his concern for his sister and partner. There was also much to think about throughout the night, specifically about the Thorn.
There was no mystery left about the Thorn himself, at least his identity and intentions. He had seen both with his own eyes.
Veranix Calbert, magic student.
A good young man, dedicated to right, if not to law.
It was this insight he had made into Mister Calbert’s character that had caused him the most consternation. By law, now that he knew the Thorn’s identity he should be dedicated to gathering enough evidence to make an arrest. His own statement of witness would not be proof, but it would be enough to acquire writs and perform searches and compulsions. With those, it was likely any Constabulary inspector worthy of their vest could gather enough physical and testimonial evidence to make a proper case.
But that would not be right. Veranix Calbert did not deserve to go to Quarrygate, or worse.
Once the doctor had started ignoring Minox, he went down to Lieutenant Benvin’s squad room to pore over his files once more. Everything the lieutenant had on the Thorn, which was mostly speculation. Minox had read through these files several times already, but before he was focused on what the Thorn was doing, not why.
The why took shape quickly. Willem Fenmere. The Thorn was obviously attacking the man’s empire of effitte, smuggling, prostitution, and corruption, a festering wound in the Dentonhill neighborhood. Minox had long taken a passing interest in Fenmere, despite it being out of his usual jurisdiction. But the Dentonhill Constabulary was hopelessly in the man’s pocket. Minox even suspected his cousin Edard was too deeply embroiled in such things to be fully trusted.
No one in Dentonhill Constabulary could be trusted to enact legal justice on Fenmere. It would never happen that way.
It could only happen—
These were dangerous thoughts Minox was having. He pushed them out of his mind.
“Hey, specs.” Officer Pollit knocking on the doorframe. He was back in his usual attire, no sign of his disguise or activity from the night besides the bruise on his face. “Why aren’t you in the infirmary ward?”
“A bit of research,” Minox said. “Though I may be wasting my time. Why are you here?”
“Looking for you. It’s the lieutenant. He’s awake, and he’s already biting to jump out of bed and get to work.”
Chapter 24
“ALL RIGHT,” Veranix said. “That’s definitely not effitte.” In the light of morning, the stuff was a pale grayish-green. The v
ials were the same kind that the effitte would come in, but it didn’t look or smell the same way. “You really didn’t need to tell me that.”
“Yes, I know,” Jiarna said. “I’m starting with the givens, and then we work from there. I just want to make sure you’re following.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“Now, these three vials—” She pointed to ones she had labeled with a different code than the others. “Those three are the ones that Kaiana got directly from the boys who admitted to buying effitte in Dentonhill.”
“Which led me to the trap.”
“Incidental,” Jiarna said. She took a moment, adding, “Not that it wasn’t troublesome for you, but it doesn’t tie directly to my point.”
“This isn’t a Letters Defense,” Veranix said.
“We’re engaging in a bit of academic rigor in this moment,” Phadre said. “We’ll want to document it all, at least for our own records.” He tapped on one of his journals. “This sort of work—”
“The point!” Veranix said.
Jiarna took over. “Those three vials are our control. We know they held effitte. And the magiochemical properties of the residue is completely different from all the other vials, which match that of our full sample.”
“So the real problem on campus is this green stuff, not effitte.” He caught a harsh look from Kaiana for a moment. “Which is still a problem, yes.”
Her face softened. “I wasn’t sure if that registered with you.”
“Whatever this stuff is, whatever it does, we should find who’s selling it and knock them down.”
“What it does,” Jiarna said. “I have some theories. Theories supported by data, but still just theories.”
“Data?” Delmin asked.
“First, observation. We saw someone take Substance Green One—”
“That’s what you’re calling it?” Delmin asked.
“It’s a useful moniker.”
“You don’t get to name anything,” Veranix said. “But please continue.”
She scowled. “We saw one of the athletes at the crownball game take it, and then act with significant aggression toward Kaiana.”
The Imposters of Aventil Page 32
