The Alchemy of Chaos: A Novel of Maradaine (Maradaine Novels) Read online

  “Where are you going?”

  “One last check,” Rellings said, and he went back into the thickening haze.

  “Blazes,” Veranix muttered. “Come on, Benkins.”

  By the time Veranix made it to the lawn, almost every boy in Almers was there, gasping and wheezing. Other prefects were making head counts, trying to sort the boys out. The commotion had gotten the attention of the campus cadets, who were scrambling around, attempting to figure out what was going on.

  Veranix was finally able to breathe, and two other boys came and relieved him of the first-year. He noticed they were fourth-years, wearing the yellow-and-white scarves marking them as Medicine and Surgery students.

  “You all right?” one of them asked Veranix.

  “Fine,” he said, but his head was buzzing. He glanced back at the door. Rellings hadn’t made it back out yet.

  “Blasted Rellings,” he muttered, and he forced his legs to move back to the door, even though they were feeling like stone.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder: Delmin. “Don’t go back in there.”

  “Rellings is still in there,” Veranix said.

  “Cadets are doing a sweep,” Delmin said pointing to the group who were heading up the steps. “I don’t think you should go in again.”

  “I’ll be fine—”

  “Vee!” Delmin snapped. With an almost flailing hand, he grabbed Veranix by the front of his shirt and tried to pull him close, but all he managed to do was pull himself closer to Veranix. “I really think neither you nor I should go back in there. Understand?”

  What Delmin was saying got through Veranix’s skull. Something about the stench was magic. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Clear of most of the crowd, Delmin lowered his voice. “All right, tell me straight, Vee. You didn’t do this, right?”

  “Of course not!” Veranix said. He wasn’t even sure how to do something like this. The whole building was coated in a haze, like it was seeping from the bricks themselves, but sticking to it somehow. Even if he could figure out how to do such a thing, even if he had the desire, doing magic on this scale would exhaust him in seconds. “How could you even think that?”

  “I didn’t really, just . . . right before it hit, I sensed something shifting with the numina all around us.” One area of magic study where Delmin had a serious advantage over Veranix was in his ability to sense and track the flow of the energy that powered all magic. Veranix mostly only noticed when other mages were drawing on numina, but Delmin had a profound skill, a magical bloodhound. Veranix imagined that if Delmin wanted to, he could pinpoint every mage on campus right now.

  “Shifting how?”

  “It was subtle, I can’t quite figure it out. It didn’t feel like it was coming from anywhere or anyone in particular. Which is how it feels when you’re masking your magic use. And it did happen right after you got back.”

  “It wasn’t me, I swear,” Veranix said. He looked back at the building, where two cadets were leading Rellings and another kid out. “Even with the cloak, I couldn’t do something like this.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Delmin said. “Question is, who could?”

  Whatever was holding the haze to Almers lost its grip, and it began to drift away. The smell was still powerful, but not quite as choking as it had been.

  “That’s not the question,” Veranix said. “I want to know why they’d use that kind of power just to prank our dorm.”

  “A prank?”

  “Rellings thought so. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it,” Veranix said. He lay down on the grass. “Wake me up if it’s worth the trouble to go back in.”

  “You’re just going to sleep on the ground?”

  “I grew up in a traveling circus. I can sleep anywhere.”

  Delmin sat down next to him. “What if it wasn’t a prank?”

  Veranix lay still, eyes closed, trying not to let the obvious thought form. It was no use. “Then someone in Almers was a target.”

  Delmin started laughing. “Someone in Almers?”

  Veranix shrugged. “I’m not so egotistical as to presume it’s me.”

  “Sure,” Delmin said. “I’m sure half the dorm has powerful nemeses who want them dead.”

  “You never know, Delmin,” Veranix said wearily. “Everyone has secrets.”

  Chapter 3

  THE TURNABOUT was relatively quiet. Colin’s boys weren’t even around. There were a handful of folk about, Princes mostly. Colin took his time sipping his second beer. He’d been seen here for a long time, so he was good. All he had to do was wait for news of whatever Veranix did tonight to come through the doors, and everything would be fine. In the meantime, he kept his eye on the main action.

  The main action tonight was a table in the back corner, where Hotchins was holding court with a few street-level Princes, mostly birds. Colin didn’t really know any of these Princes too well; they were usually working corners over by Branch and Lily, where the Knights of Saint Julian were pushing a little too hard.

  Dennick’s crew.

  Dennick had been a street captain, like Colin, but last week he had gotten too anxious with the Knights, too messy. Spilled a fair amount of Knight blood, which would keep them at bay, but got far too much attention from the sticks in the process.

  The sticks had gotten Dennick, but not before Old Casey and the other basement bosses had burned the captain stars off his arm.

  It was a shame. Colin had always liked Dennick. Dennick’s pop, he had stood by Colin’s father when things went bad in ’94. But Dennick was tough. He’d make his way in Quarrygate well enough.

  Seemed clear to Colin that everyone in Dennick’s crew was vying to get the stars on their arm now, so they huddled around Hotchins, doing their best to sweeten his cream. Hotchins didn’t make the call about who got stars, but he had the ear of the men who did. None of those old men spent their nights in the Turnabout.

  Colin must have been watching a little too close, because Hotchins gave a whistle and called him over.

  “What’s on?” Colin said, coming over with his beer, but not sitting down unless explicitly invited.

  “You’re running light, ain’t ya, Tyson?”

  “Making do with my boys,” he said. Truth was, his pockets had been lighter in the past few weeks. Hetzer had always been the best at working the Uni gates; neither Tooser or Jutie were bringing in as much coin. His death had hit the crew hard in a lot of ways.

  “Making do isn’t much,” Hotchins said. “Things got to move around, and you’re the man to help with that.”

  “Whatever you need, boss,” Colin said.

  “Good, because we’re gonna trade the flop under the butcher shop on Branch to the Knights, and . . .”

  “Trade it for what?” Colin asked.

  Hotchins scowled. Colin had talked over him, and while Hotchins wasn’t that big of a man among the bosses, he still was a boss, and he wasn’t going to take any of that. “None of yours to mind. Point being, that was this crew’s main crash, and they can’t do that no more.”

  This was really not what Colin wanted to hear. “You want me to bring them to the crash over Hechie’s barbershop?”

  “No, Tyson. Your crew uses the one under Kessing’s shop, right?”

  “Well, yeah, boss. But that’s a pretty small flop.”

  “And you’ve only got a small crew,” Hotchins said. “You’re not gonna put them all up, so calm the blazes down.” He picked up his striker, which looked like it had grown cold and greasy, and took a big bite. “Two of this crew are going under you now. That’s how it’s going to be.”

  None of Dennick’s crew looked particularly pleased with this idea, and Colin couldn’t blame them. They had lost their captain and their crash, and now they were going to be broken up.

  “Who?” one of the birds as
ked. She looked a little older than Colin, with dark hair cropped real short. Colin had seen her around plenty, usually at Dennick’s left hand, and she looked like she could scrap well enough. That said, he couldn’t for the life of him remember her name.

  “You and Theanne,” Hotchins told her. “The rest of you, go off to Hechie’s for tonight. We’ll figure out where you’re going later.” He slugged down his beer and got up from the table, clearly demonstrating that he was done holding court. The bird Colin had just inherited scowled and stood up as well. Theanne, from what Colin gathered, was the mouse of the girl whose Rose Street tattoo still looked raw and fresh on her arm, since she also got up and stood behind the older girl.

  “So,” Colin said. “I’ve forgotten your name.”

  “Deena,” she said.

  “Right.” Now that she told him, it clicked. Dennick and Deena, they had been together for a while. She really should have gotten her captain stars now, but clearly that wasn’t happening. “Let’s take my old table back, right?”

  He snapped over to Kint behind the bar to bring over three beers as they sat down.

  “So look,” he said as they sat down. “I wasn’t expecting this, and none of us are going to be too happy about this at first. We’re gonna just do our best, hear?”

  “Fine,” Deena said. “Long as we’re straight with each other. Theanne and I aren’t going to be rolling doxies for your boys. We’ll pull our share, but you best not expect that sort of thing.”

  “That’s straight,” he said. “But I wasn’t kidding about the flop we crash in being small. We’re gonna be half on top of each other as is. But every Prince in my crew respects each other.” Kint dropped three beers on the table and stepped away.

  “Fair,” Deena said. She took a swig off her beer.

  “Theanne?” Colin asked. “You fine?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, though her eyes never left the table. Girl made Jutie look old. “We got a hustle going tonight?”

  “Nothing set. But the Uni semester is done in a few days, you know? So the Uni kids are usually looking for a big blowout, and we can pump a lot from that well if we’re smart about it.”

  Suddenly Jutie came bursting through the doors of the Turnabout, grin on his face as wide as Rose Street itself. “You should have seen it!”

  “What’s on?” Colin asked, raising his voice so the whole place would notice. He already had a hunch that this was the news he was waiting for, since Jutie had been working a few Uni boys on an escort right around Cantarell.

  “The blazing Thorn, that’s what’s on,” Jutie shouted. “He was knocking down Red Rabbits, and then taking on the sticks, and smacking them all around. It was fantastic!”

  “He fought the sticks?”

  Jutie shrugged. “Not much. He was tearing on the Rabbits, though. They brought about a dozen blokes out of their club, and he’s all ‘you don’t scare me’ and smacked them around.”

  “Why was he fighting the Rabbits?” Deena asked. “Thought he hit in Dentonhill.”

  “He, uh . . . hello. Colin, who are these two ladies?”

  Colin gave Jutie a quick smack. “They are part of our crew now. Deena and Theanne. Be nice to them.”

  “I’m always nice to ladies.”

  “Don’t be stupid with them.” Colin looked back at the two of them. “This is Jutie, our crew’s pigeon.”

  “I can’t be the pigeon if these two are in now!”

  “You’re still the pigeon,” Colin said, and gave him another smack for emphasis.

  “Why was the Thorn fighting the Red Rabbits, Jutie?” Deena asked again.

  “Oh, right,” Jutie said, turning to Colin. “He wanted me to tell you.”

  “Me?” How stupid was Veranix being out there?

  “Well, he said to tell the captain, you know? The Rabbits are moving effitte for Fenmere.”

  “Can’t be,” Colin said in mock surprise. “That’s what he said?”

  “You talked to the Thorn?” Theanne asked. “For real, really talked to him?”

  “Yeah,” Jutie said, trying to play cool. “I was there for him, helped him get away from the sticks, and then he returned the favor.”

  “So that’s what he told you?” Colin said. “The Rabbits are selling effitte, working with Fenmere?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he said.”

  “All right,” Colin said. It had happened, he had heard, and he had witnesses. All good. He even had something he could bring to the bosses. Not too shabby. “That’s bad news, for sure.”

  “Real bad news,” Deena said.

  “I’ll bring this to the basement,” Colin said. “You three, sit tight for a bit. Then we’ll head over to the flop, and you birds can get settled.”

  “Joy,” Deena said flatly.

  Colin went around to the safe house down in the back alley behind the Turnabout, down steps to the basement beneath the Venter Inn. Three quick raps on the door, waited two beats, then three slow ones.

  The metal window opened up. “Who’s at it?”

  “Colin,” he said.

  “And the word?”

  “Open up.” The password was that there was no password. That way if you were being held at knifepoint by someone trying to muscle his way in to the boss, you could give the fake password and let them know to arm up.

  The door unbolted and the bruiser guarding it let him in, shutting it back behind him quickly. “They ain’t in the mood tonight,” he warned Colin.

  “I just got some news. They won’t like it, but I don’t need to make a plea or nothing.”

  The bruiser shrugged. “Your arm.”

  Colin went down the cramped hallway to the first lamp-lit chamber. It was a taproom of sorts, in that Hotchins and a couple other minor bosses were sitting around a table playing cards, while two girls—technically with roses on their arms, though Colin doubted they ever worked the streets—poured beers and served the table.

  Colin knew all the folk at the table: Giles, Bottin, Frenty, Nints. Most of them had been street captains when he first got his ink. Now they were “bosses,” in the most nominal sense. They outranked him, they got to sit in the basement and play cards, but for the most part they simply weren’t involved in running things for the Princes. Boss status was a polite retirement for these guys.

  “What’s on, Colin?” Hotchins asked. “You ain’t here to whine about dropping Dennick’s birds on you, are ya?”

  “Nah, that’s fine,” Colin said. “I ain’t got a guff with that, honest.”

  “Good,” he said. He drew a card he didn’t like and dropped his hand. “So what is it?”

  “I just heard news that the Thorn started a dustup with the Red Rabbits.”

  “Did he?” Giles asked.

  “Don’t sound like our problem,” Nints said.

  Bottin grunted. “Cards.”

  “All right, so he tussled with the Rabbits,” Hotchins said. “What of it?”

  “Well, he also talked to one of my boys.”

  Hotchins raised an eyebrow. “One of yours?”

  “One of mine was in the area.”

  “Huh.” Hotchins got up from the table. “Look, Colin, last month you went and joined in with a tussle the Thorn had in Denton. Lost your left-arm boy. Now he’s talking to another of your boys?”

  “Like I said,” Colin said. He felt like he was going to break out in a sweat. That would draw questions. “Do you wanna know what he told my boy?”

  “I’m just worried you’re getting in deep with this Thorn business. You say he’s a friend of Rose Street?”

  “I honestly think he is.”

  “All right, so what’s he say?”

  Colin took a deep breath. “Rabbits are letting Fenmere creep across Waterpath. They’re apparently taking effitte from him, gonna start se
lling. In Aventil.”

  “Saints,” Nints said. “Blazing Rabbits. I knew those bastards would crumble if Fenmere pushed them.”

  “We don’t know that’s happened,” Giles said. “We got the Thorn telling his boy. ’Sides, Rabbits aren’t that weak. They just muscled out Jellican from his brewery a couple weeks ago.”

  “Well, maybe we should look into it,” Colin said. “We don’t want the Rabbits letting anything creeping across Waterpath, do we?”

  “Probably not,” Hotchins said. “But we don’t want a hammer coming across the Path, either.”

  “What are you talking about?” Colin asked.

  “Real simple, Tyson. The Thorn tussles with Fenmere. The Thorn tussles with the Rabbits. If we join in against the Rabbits, then the idea will get out there that we’re with the Thorn.”

  “And we ain’t?” Frenty asked. He was a mousy, skinny guy and Colin was always astounded that he not only made captain, but he survived past it. “I mean, I like the guy. He’s fighting our fight, ain’t he?”

  “Maybe he is,” Hotchins said. “Tyson, look, I’ll tell Old Casey and the others about this. But maybe the best thing for us is to let it simmer a bit. The Thorn wants to dust up the Rabbits, we let him. Maybe he’ll just plain handle it.”

  “That’s how we do things now?” Colin asked, his blood heating up. “Like trading a flop to the Knights?”

  “All right, enough,” Hotchins said. “Go for a walk.”

  The bruiser by the door took one step forward. It was subtle, but enough that Colin got the signal. “Walking.”

  The bruiser didn’t touch him as he went back into the alley. That went about as well as he had expected. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he had hoped it would have gone better. The Princes were going to let Veranix do their dirty work all on his own. And Veranix would do it, whether Colin helped him or not.

  Bell had to return to the mansion after what happened. As much as he would have preferred just to go home, he knew well enough to bring the news directly to Mister Fenmere. It wasn’t yet eleven bells; the man would still be awake. Probably awaiting a report from Bell regardless of how things went.