The Thorn of Dentonhill (7 page)

“What happened?” Hannik asked.

“The guy stepped up and hit a shipment drop, is what we hear.”

“How big?” Colin asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“No one is talking numbers, from what we hear across the street. But the word is Fenmere is going to start cracking skulls to find this ‘thorn in his side.'”

“So he's going after this ‘thorn,' then?”

“And from what I hear, if he thinks the thorn is on this side of Waterpath, no truce is going to keep him from coming over to get him.”

Everyone groaned.

“I got to ask,” the Rabbit captain asked. “Anyone claiming this? Anyone know anyone who knows anyone?”

Colin put on his best dice game face. Nobody in Aventil needed trouble from Fenmere, and the last thing Colin needed was for any one of these folks to think he had any clue what might have happened. Or who it might have been. But he had a damned good idea indeed.

“No one?” The Rabbit captain shrugged. “Didn't figure.”

Hannik scoffed at the Rabbit captain. “You're only asking so you can turn your teeth once Fenmere's boys ask you.”

“We ain't never—”

“Rabbits always turn their teeth!”

“Rabbits gonna show you—”

“Enough!” the Reverend shouted. Everyone became silent. He said, much calmer, “Now, so we are clear, none of you claim this ‘Thorn' is with any of you.”

Four-Toe shook his head. “If he was one of ours, he'd blazing well know not to bring heat like that.”

“This is going to be trouble for everyone,” Yessa said. “Don't be surprised if you see some rattling out there the next few days.”

The Hallaran's Boys stood up, chests out. Hannik said, “They cross Waterpath to rattle us, they'll get what for.”

Yessa shook her head. “Easy for you. Fenmere's goons cross, it's Orphans and Rabbits who bear most of their rattle.”

“Princes feel it,” Jutie added. Colin glared at him, but that did nothing to hold back his swagger. “And if we find out who this ‘thorn' is, we'll leave him in a bloody heap in the middle of Waterpath.”

“More loyal to your enemy than a potential ally?” It was the priest who spoke. All eyes went to him. “A thief is no better for stealing from a thief, but is he not doing what you all wish to do yourselves?”

“Fenmere runs his neighborhood, leaves us alone,” Yessa said. “That's how it's been for years.”

“We've got our own to worry about,” added the Rabbit captain.

“You've been quiet,” the priest said to Colin.

“I ain't got nothing to say,” Colin said. “Fenmere got hit, and he's all steamed. Good to know. We'll watch ours.” He got up and went down the aisle. Jutie scrambled after him. He called out behind him. “I've heard everything I need to hear.”

Colin couldn't keep his anger off his face, so he was glad he had his back to the rest of the gangs. This was a very bad start to the day.

He was going to have to have a long talk with his cousin.

V
ERANIX WOKE UP
when someone pounded on the door.

“Bed check!” came a shout from outside the door. “It's dawn!” Veranix could barely move from his bed. Fortunately, Delmin got up and answered the door.

“Is this really necessary, Rellings?” he asked as he opened it.

“Periodic checks are part of the routine, Sarren,” Rellings said. He pushed his way into the room.

“Well, we're both here,” Delmin said. “Satisfied?”

“Morning, Calbert,” Rellings said, sitting down on the bed next to him. He tapped his finger on Veranix's temple. “Are you with us today?”

“Rutting well am, Rellings,” Veranix mumbled. “You must have better things to do.”

“Walk to breakfast is in ten, Calbert. I'm going to make a point of taking headcount this morning. And every morning from now on. Morning discipline has been sloppy of late.”

“Lovely,” Veranix said. “What do you study again, Rellings?”

“Law.”

“I need to switch to Law. Clearly, it's frightfully simple.”

“Ten minutes, kish,” Rellings said sternly, and he stomped out of the room.

“What did you do?” Delmin asked.

Veranix got out of the bed and searched around for his pants. “Do? Me? What do you mean?” Veranix realized he sounded too defensive.

“Because Rellings is on a tear!” Delmin looked angry, despite laughing. “You did something to him, didn't you?”

“To him? Nothing.” Veranix pulled his clothes on. “Believe me, I barely think about the guy.”

“Somebody chapped him,” Delmin said.

“Wasn't me.” Parsons, a dark-haired young man, came into the doorway. Eittle, his taller blond roommate, appeared behind him.

“Somebody pissed in his tea, I'll tell you,” Eittle said with a clipped, nasal accent.

“And we all get to drink it,” Veranix said. “I see we're all having a good morning.”

“I was up already,” Eittle said from the back. “If Rellings wants his little walk to breakfast, let's line up. I'm starved.”

“Same here,” Delmin said.

“You two are always hungry,” Parsons said.

“I'm a mage,” Delmin said. “I don't know what Eittle's excuse is.”

“They're stingy in the dining hall, that's what,” Eittle said. “I tell you—”

“Bet a crown he says ‘back on the farm' next,” Veranix said. Eittle was a farmboy from up in Patyma somewhere. Veranix constantly had to remind himself behind that backcountry accent and doughy face, there was a mind of absurd levels of genius, matched by his humble nature.

“No bet,” Parsons said.

Eittle's face fell. “Calbert, I thought country boys needed to stick together against these city folks.” Delmin and Parsons laughed. Both of them were Maradaine north-siders. Parsons came from money, possibly even minor nobility, but he never talked about it. He did mention his older brothers who all went to the Royal College of Maradaine, though.

Veranix smiled good-naturedly. “I've told you again and again, Eittle. Racquin caravaners aren't country folk. We're road people.” Among his friends in Almers, Veranix didn't bother hiding his heritage. His name made it all too clear, and there were only so many lies he could keep up with.

“Disreputable road people,” Delmin said.

“Maybe that's why Rellings hates you,” Parsons said. “He thinks you'll steal his sister and throw her in the back of your wagon.”

“Does Rellings have a sister?” Eittle asked.

“Does Calbert have a wagon?” Delmin countered.

“Don't all Racquin have wagons?” Parsons asked, his tone too dry to tell if he was joking or not.

“I'm going to show all of you the back of a wagon,” Veranix said, knocking Delmin in the arm. A loud bell rang out in the hallway.

“Every blasted kish better line up!” Rellings called.

“Come on,” Veranix said. “I'm starving too.”

Rellings counted through the line of students twice. There was a fair amount of grumbling from the crowd, but Veranix kept his own mouth shut. Whatever was bothering Rellings, he didn't want to draw any more heat than was necessary. He had enough to worry about.

Breakfast was a plateful of eggs and potatoes, with dark bread and tea, which Veranix ate greedily. He really wondered what kind of meals Eittle ate at the farm, because even with his appetite, this was a lot of food.

Delmin stared at a forkful of potatoes, his brow furrowed.

“Problem with your breakfast, Delmin?” Veranix asked.

“Thinking about something I read last night. Theory about the war with the Poasians.”

“And it's about potatoes?” Eittle asked.

“Actually, it is,” Delmin said. “Potatoes were brought over to Druthal from the colonies in the Napolic Islands.”

“Like Vee's stable girl?” Parsons laughed.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Parsons.” Veranix wondered how widespread the rumors about him and Kaiana had become. He didn't encourage them, even though it was better people believed that instead of knowing the truth. The rumors alone could create trouble.

“Of course you don't,” Parson said.

“Anyway,” Delmin said, “the theory is that Poasians invaded our colonies there because they wanted to cultivate potatoes themselves.”

Parsons shook his head. “Fifty years of war over potatoes?”

“Ain't what my grandfather tells me,” Eittle said. “He said it was just—”

“Was this something we were supposed to read for history?” Veranix asked Delmin, cutting off Eittle before he started on another long-winded war story about his grandfather. After three years together in Almers, Veranix had heard every story three times.

“No, I found it in the library.”

Parsons shook his head at Delmin. “Only you would go to the library for extra reading.” He turned to Veranix. “What's your plan for today, Vee?”

“Morning practicals with Alimen,” he said. “You?”

“Our own practicals,” Eittle said, “What's that stuff we're working with?”

“Quicksilver,” Parsons said, “We're on metals all semester.”

“Cleaner than last semester,” Eittle said, shoveling in more eggs. “I'd rather not cut open any more live animals to see how their organs work.”

“And yet, you keep eating as you say that,” Delmin said.

Parsons shuddered. “Quicksilver is creepy. I prefer vivisection.”

“I need to take some Natural Philosophy courses soon,” Veranix said. “I need at least two before I get my Letters. What should I take?”

“You've been stalling on them,” Delmin said.

“And you've been stalling on practicals,” Veranix said.

“I'm better with theory.”

Veranix nodded. “By the way, I need to go over that stuff from yesterday's lecture.”

“The stuff you slept through?” Delmin smirked at him.

“Shut it,” Veranix said, laughing. He looked at Parsons. “What should it be?”

“Yanno's plant life course is good,” he said. “Or Hester's astronomy class. You're always up late anyway.”

“Right,” Veranix said. Tower bells rang nine times. Veranix took a few last bites and gulped down the last of his tea. “Off to practicals.”

“History lectures after lunch?” Delmin asked. “You have done the reading?”

Veranix hadn't read yet, though the chapter to read was on Shalcer, the Idiot King. That sounded at least somewhat entertaining. “I'll read during lunch. See you there.” He brought his plate over to the steward and left the hall.

“Hey, Jutie! Hey, Jutie! Where you been?”

Jutie came up to the corner of Rose and Vine, where Hetzer and Tooser were both leaning against the building, keeping an eye on the street. “There was a church meet this morning, me and Colin went down to it.”

“Really?” Hetzer sounded a bit offended. Hetzer was an older Prince, and usually at Colin's right hand for anything. “He took you?”

“I was awake,” Jutie said with a shrug.

“We woke up and you were gone,” Tooser said.

“So where's Colin now?” Hetzer asked. He had stepped in closer to Jutie, his head cocked to one side.

“Don't know,” Jutie said. Colin had said something about getting a bite, and next thing he knew, Colin was gone.

“Slipped out from you?”

“He does that,” Tooser said. “He does that real good.”

“And, blazes, there was this one Knight, you know, he was giving me the eye, and I almost cut him right there.”

“In the church?” Tooser asked.

“Yeah, if Colin hadn't held me back. Knight deserved it, too. They've been trouble.”

Hetzer nodded, laughing nervously. “So what's the deal, what's the big meet for?”

“Some comer nipped Fenmere last night.”

“Serious?” Hetzer gave a low whistle. “Had to have been a good bit, you know? To make them all go for a church meet first thing?”

“Right on the docks, apparently,” Jutie said.

“Blazes!” Hetzer said. He was grinning wide, pacing back and forth on the corner. “That's what I'm talking about, you know? That's what somebody needs to be doing.” He punched at empty air. “Giving Fenmere his own right back, you know?”

“Like I said—” Jutie started. For once he had a piece over these two, and it felt good. Then he heard a voice he hadn't heard in months, and that all came crashing down.

“Juteron?”

Jutie turned to see exactly who he didn't want to see. His older brother Wylon, dressed in a heavy leather smock and smelling like the sewers. He sat on a skinny three-wheeled pedalcart, stopped in the middle of the street.

“Juteron, what are you doing?”

Hetzer stepped up to Jutie's shoulder. “Who's this, Jutie?”

“My brother,” Jutie muttered. Why the blazes was he even on this block?

“Brother?”

Wylon got off the pedalcart and stepped forward, giving a nervous glance over to Hetzer. “This is where you've been?”

“What's that supposed to mean, Wylon?”

Hetzer leaned in. “Yeah,
Wylon
, what's that supposed to mean?”

“We've been worried sick about you, Juteron,” Wylon said. “We didn't know where you had gone. I had no idea you would be hanging around with . . . trash.” He said the last word cautiously, as if he had to work up the nerve to say it.

Hetzer started laughing. “This bloke calls us trash, you hear that?”

“The man knows his trash,” Tooser said. He came over real close to Wylon, getting his nose in. “Based on how he smells.”

“But he's got such a nice pedalcart here, Tooser,” Hetzer said, running a finger along the metal frame.

“Get your filthy hands off my ride,” Wylon said.

“Your hands filthy, Hetz?” Tooser asked.

“I'm sure,” Wylon said.

“Course they are,” Hetzer said, getting close to Wylon. “I've got them covered with your mother's—”

“Hetz!” Jutie snapped. That was too damn far.

“Sorry, Jutes,” Hetzer said. “Forgot my manners. It happens around sewage like this rat.”

“Least I have a real job,” Wylon said. He brushed Hetzer away and turned back to Jutie. “You still could, too, you know.”

Jutie sneered back at his brother. He didn't need to hear this again. “What's this, at the tannery? Or the slaughterhouse?”

“Either one is honest work.”

A hand clapped on Wylon's shoulder. “Honest work, really?” Colin came up from behind, one arm wrapped congenially around Wylon. “That's a funny thing to say, you know. Honest how?”

“It's not breaking the law,” Wylon said.

“Who is breaking the law?” Colin said, giving Wylon a smile like a fox. “What laws are we breaking?”

“Four pieces of trash, standing on the corner, all of you armed . . .”