The Thorn of Dentonhill (24 page)

“All right, what's the drop?” Hetzer asked.

“It's in the satchel, for your cap, if he's the right one,” she said.

“If he's the right one?”

“I need to see him to know,” she said.

“That's convenient,” Hetzer said. “Jutie, did you check her out at all?”

“Well . . .” Jutie said.

“Stupid,” Hetzer said. He went over to the bird, who was giving him a hard glare. “You think you can just walk in and see the cap, eh?”

“Thought I might,” she said. She didn't flinch as he got closer, her eyes locked on him. He reached over and tried to take the satchel from her. Just as his fingers touched the handle, her fist swung out, cracking him across the jaw. “This isn't for you, Prince.”

“You got iron and spit, Napa,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “No doubt about that.”

“Most Napa girls do,” she said. “We're soldiers' daughters.”

“Question is, you got a knife hidden on you? You got ink on your skin?”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

“You want to see the cap, everything. Put the satchel on the ground.”

“You don't touch it.”

“Course not, bird,” he said. “Just put it down and open it up.” She did so. It looked like it just had cloth in it. “You looking to be a laundry girl or something?”

“Maybe,” she said. “But not for you.”

“Fine,” Hetzer said. “Now take off the boots.”

She glared at him, but didn't give him any lip about it. She pulled off one boot and held it upside down, showing nothing was hidden in it, and dropped it on the ground. Then she did the same with the other. She sneered at him. “You want anything else? You need to check me completely?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he said. She was a pretty one, with a strong body. He certainly wanted to see more of it.

“Fine,” she hissed. She started unlacing her blouse.

“That's enough,” said Colin, coming out from the back.

“Cap, we were just—” Hetzer said.

“I know what,” Colin said. “You looking for me, girl?”

The Napa girl crossed over and looked Colin over, examining his face closely. “Yeah, I'm looking for you.”

“I know you, girl?”

“Not me,” she said. She went back over to the satchel and closed it up. “We have a mutual friend.”

“Who would that be?” Colin asked. Hetzer noticed the two of them both glanced at him and Jutie nervously.

“I think you know,” she said. She tossed the satchel over to Colin. “You need to keep that safe for him.”

“I don't need to do anything for him,” Colin said, his voice rising.

“Say that if you like,” she said. “Doesn't make it true.”

“Why the blazes should I do it?” Colin said, looking at the satchel in his arms.

“Because he needs it to be hidden,” she said. She gave another glance at Jutie and Hetzer. Hetzer had no idea what this was all about, but Colin obviously did.

“Is this as much heat as I think it is?”

“I think so,” she said. “But you keep it quiet, and the heat won't need to come here.”

Colin frowned at her. “He told you to give it to me?”

“He told me to hide it,” she said. “I knew you'd be the safest place.”

Colin shook his head. “Fine. But he's got to stay low from now on.”

“I'll keep him safe,” she said.

“Get your boots on and scat.” He returned to the back room, still holding on to the satchel.

“You heard him, bird,” Hetzer said. He didn't get any of what just happened, but the girl made her drop. She was already putting her boots on. “Unless you want to stay for something else.”

“Not a chance, Prince,” she said. “Unlatch the blasted door.”

Hetzer gave a nod over to Jutie, who scrambled over to open it. As soon as he did, the bird was out and gone.

“What the blazes was all that?” Hetzer asked.

“I'm not sure,” Jutie said.

“Yeah, well, next time don't let a pretty face make you stupid, Jutes.”

“I . . . I don't think I—”

“It's all right,” Colin said, coming back out. He still was holding on to the satchel. “Let's go get some breakfast, all right?” He didn't look at either one of them as he went to the door.

“Sure thing, cap,” Jutie said.

“And this whole business didn't happen. Clear? Not to the other boys, not the other caps, not the bosses, not no one.”

“Sure thing,” Hetzer said.

“Swear on the street, Hetz,” Colin said. That took Hetzer by surprise. Colin rarely invoked that, but that meant this was serious business. That was the most sacred thing Colin could tell him.

“I swear it on Rose Street,” Hetzer said. “Quiet as a knife.”

“All right,” Colin said, going up and out to the street. Hetzer followed after him. The whole morning felt wrong to Hetzer. Starting the day like this made his guts churn. Today was not going to be a good day.

T
HE NEXT DAY
was Saint Senea Day. Saint Days meant no classes. On the minor Saint Days, Veranix and Delmin would go to the morning services in the campus chapel, followed by joining fellow students for cider and cards, or going to a house social at the women's college. Major holidays, like Fenstide earlier in the month, or Terrentin or Quiet Night, the University would organize a more formal event.

Saint Senea Day was minor, and surely the faculty resented having another holiday so close to Fenstide. Veranix knew from experience the chapel services would be nearly empty. Very few people honored the Saint of Righteous Outlaws.

But as far as Veranix was concerned, Senea was
his
saint.

For Saint Senea Day, to start, Veranix had decided to sleep, at least late through the morning. He felt this was a fine plan, one that honored Saint Senea, rest well earned doing righteous works of outlawry. Come sunset, he would perform appropriate acts of gratitude at the chapel.

It wasn't even nine bells when his plan was ruined. Delmin charged into their dormitory, slamming the door behind him.

“Get up!” Delmin shouted. Veranix recognized the tone of panic, and was immediately awake and alert. Delmin was pale and sweaty, his breathing labored.

“What, what is it?” Veranix asked.

“There's . . . there's . . .” Delmin gasped. He was too winded to get the words out.

“All right, calm down,” Veranix said, getting to his feet. “What happened? Fire? Or worse?”

“Worse,” Delmin said. He caught his breath. “Campus is about to be locked down on emergency curfew.”

“Emergency curfew? In the middle of the morning on a Saint Day?” Veranix was shocked. Emergency curfew was one of those things students talked about in hushed whispers, one of those things everyone feared, but it never actually happened. It was a protocol in case something or someone dangerous was believed to be on campus. All students were restricted to dorms. Campus gates were shut. Cadets and prefects patrolled walkways and lawns.

Delmin nodded. “I think it's for you.”

“Me? Why do you—”

Bells clanged in rapid succession from every direction. That was the sign. Veranix scrambled to the window. Outside, cadets were running across the lawn, ushering people into buildings.

“What happened, Del?” Veranix asked. He grabbed a shirt and put it on.

“Well, I went to Alimen's office. I wanted to ask him about properties of napranium, you know, learn more about the stuff and . . .”

“Right, and then?”

“When I got there, there were four men in his office with him. All mages, and I mean I could see the
numina
flow just bristling about them. These guys are major players. They were telling him that they knew their goods were somewhere on campus, and that there was a thief who had brought the stuff here.”

“Their goods?” Veranix asked. “You mean . . .”

“The rope and the cloak, I'm sure,” Delmin said. “They didn't say so explicitly, but they didn't need to. Professor Alimen was arguing with them, but . . .”

“Wait, first. All mages, right? No thugs or muscle?”

“I don't see how that matters, Vee!” Delmin said.

“It matters in that these are not Fenmere's men. They're his buyers. The ones who were supposed to get these things in the first place.”

“So?”

“So, none of them have seen me as the Thorn. They don't know . . .”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Delmin said. “Anyway, they insisted that Alimen lock down the campus so they could search for the thief.”

“And he agreed?”

“Not readily,” Delmin said, “but they told him he didn't want to make an enemy of the Blue Hand Circle, and . . .”

“Blue Hand?” Veranix asked. “I met one of those guys before, in Alimen's office. He was a jerk.”

“Well, now there are four of them, and none of them are guys you would want to trifle with. Are the things here, though? I have a plan.”

“No, they—what plan?”

Delmin smiled a bit. Veranix recognized the look on Delmin's face. It was the one he had whenever he thought he was being especially clever.

“The way I see it, those Blue Hand men are gifted enough to track
numina
flow to the things.”

“You said you couldn't see anything strange when I used them.”

“I couldn't, but by themselves, they stand out. Even if you hid them underground, I would think one of them is good enough to spot the irregularities of them.”

“Kaiana,” Veranix whispered. He went out into the hall.

“I haven't even told you the plan.” Delmin ran after him.

“So, what is it?” Veranix asked as they both went down the stairs. Delmin pulled something out of his pocket and put it in Veranix's hand. It was a lump of cold metal, and Veranix immediately felt dizzy and winded. He stopped walking, taking a moment to regain his equilibrium.

“Dalmatium?” Veranix asked.

“Put that with the goods, and they cancel each other out. No strange
numina
flow to track.”

“Del,” Veranix said, his eyes widening, “That's brilliant. How did you . . .”

“It was on Alimen's practice table,” Delmin said. “I swiped it when he was arguing with the Blue Hand mages.”

Veranix laughed. “We'll make a thief of you yet.”

“No, thanks,” Delmin said. “But you have to get to the things before they do. How are you going to do that with the curfew on?”

“Remind me, Delmin. We're restricted to where?”

“Dormitories and dining halls, during meal times.”

“Right,” Veranix said. He headed down to the main door. As he predicted, there was a prefect at the door. It wasn't Rellings, at least. Veranix went to the door, walking like he had no intention of stopping.

“Hey,” said the prefect. “Curfew lockdown, kish.”

“Breakfast, prefect,” Veranix said. “We still get to eat.”

The prefect raised an eyebrow. “A bit late on that. Breakfast ends at nine bells.”

“Not nine bells yet,” Delmin said.

“Maybe two minutes from,” the prefect said.

“Come on,” Veranix said, pointing to Delmin's scarf. “We're magic students. You know we can't miss a meal.”

“Should have gone earlier.”

“I slept in,” Veranix said.

“Your problem.”

Delmin leaned in to the prefect. “Listen, what would you rather have, two annoyed, hungry mages, or two mages who owe you a favor?” The prefect thought about this for a minute, and then opened the door. He pulled out a whistle from his coat pocket and gave it two sharp blows.

“Two coming over,” he called out to another prefect standing outside Holtman.

“Two coming, aye!” the other prefect called back.

“I will collect on that favor, kish,” he told them. They nodded and dashed across the walkway between Almers and Holtman. As they reached the wooden double doors, held open by the prefect guarding it, Delmin turned to look back at Almers.

“Blessed Saint Justinia,” he muttered. “They're coming.”

Veranix turned his head and saw the group approaching Almers from the other side. Professor Alimen walked in front of them, the scowl he wore marking his obvious annoyance. Mister Kalas was with them, looking far too pleased with himself. Seeing Kalas made everything clear. He and his Blue Hand Circle were Fenmere's buyers, the ones the cloak and rope were for. Whatever the Blue Hand Circle wanted, whatever they were doing that required the items, it couldn't be good.

The two men behind Kalas were younger men, but clearly mages, wearing blue robes over their woolen suits. Veranix wasn't as skilled as Delmin at seeing
numina
flow, but these two were gushing wells of it. As strong as they were, they were nothing compared to the man walking in the back of the group. He gave the impression of being an old man, despite his bright red hair, walking slowly as if his withered body was too frail to move any faster. Veranix realized right away that was not the case. This man was the most powerful mage he had ever seen, pulling so much
numina
into his body the grass wilted under his feet.

Veranix stopped in the doorway, transfixed until Delmin pulled him in the building. Once inside, Veranix found himself gasping for breath, his heart racing. His skin was covered in a layer of sweat.

“Who . . . who was that?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“I don't know,” Delmin said, pulling Veranix by the arm. “I don't want to find out.”

“But you saw, didn't you?” Veranix said. He stumbled down the hallway. “You saw the kind of power he had, didn't you?”

“You have no idea,” Delmin said. He stopped and leaned against the wall. Veranix could see that his friend was at least as scared as he was.

“Del, you realize what a man like that, if he got the cloak and rope, what he could do? The kind of power—”

“He could crack the city in half,” Delmin said plainly. “And if he's the sort of man who does business with crime lords . . .”

“There's no way we can let him get the items,” Veranix said. “Come on!” He dashed down the hallway.

“How are we going to . . .” Delmin started, chasing after him.

“The other end of the Spinner Run,” Veranix said, “comes out at this storeroom over here. We can get to the . . .” He grabbed the doorknob and turned it. It didn't move. The door was locked. Instinctively, he magicked the door open, but nothing happened.

“Why isn't it—”

“The dalmatium,” Delmin said. “You can't do any magic with it. Give it to me and . . .”

Veranix had already kicked the door open. The dry wood around the lock splintered easily, and the door burst open.

“Vee!” Delmin gasped. “How . . . how can you . . .”

“Fix it,” Veranix said, going into the room. He went right to the trapdoor hidden behind the far shelf.

“Fix it? How do I fix it?” Delmin asked.

Veranix opened the door and got halfway into it. “You're a mage, Mister Sarren,” he said with a wink. “Figure something out.” He dropped to the dusty floor below, pulling the door shut with him.

The Spinner Run was completely dark. With the chunk of dalmatium in his hand, Veranix couldn't make any light. He ran down the hall on memory and sense of direction, brushing against the stone walls several times before he reached the other end. He felt around at the ground, searching for the hidden niche where he had stashed his gear. After several frantic minutes, he found it.

Empty.

He checked it three times. Nothing was there at all.

Blindly, he scrambled for the ladder at the end of the run, and raced up it. He knocked open the trapdoor and leaped out into the carriage house.

“Kai!” he shouted. “Kaiana!” He looked around frantically, not even seeing her.

“Shut your screaming mouth,” Kaiana hissed at him. She came around from one of the other stables. “You think you can get caught in here? They rang the bells for . . .”

“I know! That's why I'm here. The lockdown is so they can search for the cloak and—”

“For you,” she said. “Wonderful.”

“They don't know it's me, Kai,” Veranix said. He was in a panic, not able to think clearly. He came over to her, grabbing her shoulders. “But if they find it, it'll—”

“They're not going to find it here, though,” she said.

“It's gone,” he told her, “The things are gone!”

“I know that, Veranix,” she said calmly. “I've already moved them.”

“To where? Kaiana, where are—” Veranix was interrupted by several voices outside. Someone was opening the door.

“Blasted saints,” Kaiana muttered. With surprising strength, she grabbed Veranix by the shirt and pulled him into her quarters.

“Kai, what . . .” Veranix whispered. She shushed him, and as the main door to the carriage house opened, she shut her own door.

“I'm quite certain of it,” a voice outside said. “The
numina
trails are quite clear.”

“I'm surprised you didn't notice them yourself, Professor,” another voice said.

“I noticed nothing unusual.” That was Professor Alimen. “Nothing inconsistent with daily activity in a place where mages live.”

“Mages live in the carriage house now?” a sneering voice said. Veranix recognized it was Kalas.

“No, of course not, Fenrich.”

“Search it all!” a raspy voice hissed. Sounds of men searching the stables began. Footsteps came close to Kaiana's door.

“Stupid,” Kaiana muttered. Veranix wasn't sure what she meant, but before he could ask, she was already moving. She came up to him, tore open his shirt and pushed him onto her bed. A moment later, she had thrown off her own clothes and jumped on top of him, kissing him passionately.