The Assassins of Consequence, page 33
“And Fenmere?” Kaiana asked.
“Fenmere is dead. And so is my mother.”
“Oh, Veranix,” Kaiana said, taking his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“No one more than me,” Veranix said.
“What do you need, mate?” Delmin asked.
“This stitched up, I suppose,” Veranix said, his voice filled with defeat. “Then we might as well find our way back to campus. Most likely be expelled and arrested in the morning.”
“No, don’t talk like that,” Mila said.
“Just setting realistic expectations,” Veranix said. “But I would like to get back, sleep in my bed one last time.”
“I should make myself scarce,” Colin said, standing up. “You all can get him home.” He bent down and kissed Veranix on the top of his head. “Love you, cousin.”
Veranix looked up, and an empty smile crossed his face. “Love you, too. We’re the only family we’ve got left.”
Colin glanced at the rest of the people in the room. “We’ll see.” He went to the door, but Kaiana caught up to him.
“You don’t have to go,” she said quietly.
“I’ve got other people also counting on me,” he said. “I put him first, and I always will. But he’s safe with you all. I got him to you, that’s my job.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know if he said that to you, but thank you.”
“Thank you,” he said firmly. “He’s going to—he’s going to need you a lot in the coming days, no matter what happens. So I’m glad you’re here for him.”
She grabbed his hand before he went out the door. “And you? Do you need anything?”
He smiled softly. “I’ve got my streets, and I kept my promise to his pop. That’s all I need.”
Kaiana went back to the rest of them, now all sitting on the floor near Veranix, him leaning on Mila.
“We should probably get you out of that outfit,” Kaiana said. “There’s some spare clothes in the back rooms, like the ones Del and I got.”
“Sounds good,” Veranix said. “But when I take my cloak off, I will probably pass clean out.”
“We’ll get you home safe,” Kaiana said.
“Right to your bed,” Delmin added.
“I really am grateful to you, all of you,” Veranix said. “I’m sorry for what you went through, tonight and yesterday, and up until now. But you all stood by me in this stupid fight of mine.”
“Our fight,” Mila said quietly.
“But it’s done,” he stressed. “Even if I’m not expelled or arrested, it’s over.”
“What do you mean?” Kaiana asked.
“I mean,” he said, taking the cloak off his shoulders. “This is the end. I’m done with being the Thorn.”
He dropped the cloak, and collapsed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
VERANIX WOKE TO FIRM, RESPECTFUL knocks on the door.
He opened his eyes—his bed. His room in Almers Hall. He had no memory of getting here, and for a brief moment, he thought all the horrors had been a dream.
But, no, the pain told the truth. Everything burned into his memory of yesterday was real, and the bandages and stitches on his body were a testament to that. Written in blood, at that.
The knocks came again. Veranix pulled himself out of the bed, making everything hurt even more, and wrapping the blanket around his nearly naked body, opened the door.
No fewer than eight cadets stood in the hallway.
“Veranix Calbert?” the one in the lead asked.
“That’s me,” Veranix said.
“You’re being called to answer some questions about the events of yesterday. Will you come without incident?”
“Absolutely,” Veranix said. “If you’d give me the courtesy of going to the water closet, getting properly dressed?”
“I’ve been told to bring you straight away, Mister Calbert. It is after nine bells, you should be in proper dress already.”
“Add it to my charges,” Veranix mumbled.
“Hey, hey!” Delmin’s voice cracked through the hallway. He pushed his way through the cadets. “Ease down, fellows. I’m the prefect of this floor, he’s my responsibility.”
“I’ve been told—” the cadet started.
“Back off, cadet,” Delmin said sharply. “He is my responsibility, and I will get him washed up and dressed and delivered to—where?”
“Condolin Hall,” the cadet offered. The offices of the dean and other university administrators.
“Just so. I will have him there at ten bells. Go off and report that to whoever told you. They have issue they can come to me.”
Delmin closed the door instead of waiting for an answer.
“That’s not going to stop the inevitable,” Veranix said.
“It’s not, but I’m not going to let them drag you there in a blanket,” Delmin said. “Nor are you going to go to whatever that is without me at your side.”
“Even still?” Veranix asked.
“Even still,” Delmin confirmed. He held up a paper bag. “Five Itasa rolls. I figured you were ravenous.”
“I am,” Veranix said, even though he didn’t feel like eating. His body demanded otherwise.
“I had seven,” Delmin said. “I would have gotten you more but the women in the kitchens were glaring at me.”
“This is perfect,” Veranix said, already finishing one.
“Finish up, and then clean yourself up as best you can,” Delmin said, laying out a clean version of Veranix’s uniform on the bed. “No matter what happens when you walk out, you will walk into Condolin Hall the absolute embodiment of a University of Maradaine student.”
“Thank you, Del,” Veranix said. “I really don’t deserve you.”
“No, you don’t,” Delmin said. “But you’ve got me anyway.”
As presentable as he could be without glamouring his face—which Delmin told him not to do—the two of them arrived at Condolin Hall, where they were promptly escorted to a meeting room, where they were seated before a panel of several faculty and administrators, with Major Dresser in the center.
“Mister Sarren, your presence is neither requested nor required,” Dresser said.
“I’m the prefect for Veranix’s floor,” Delmin said. “Part of that role includes being liaison between student and administration in any matter of discipline. I’ll stay by his side.”
Dresser frowned. “If Mister Calbert doesn’t object, so be it.”
“I don’t at all,” Veranix said. “Let’s just get through this, I’m in no mood to draw it out.”
“Good,” Dresser said. “Then let’s start. Just to begin, some facts at hand. Yesterday afternoon, there was an incident on the south lawn where several gentlemen of delinquent nature explicitly called out your name, and threatened the student populace until you engaged in an altercation with them.”
“I fought them, sir,” Veranix said. “No need to mince words.”
“Yes, well,” Dresser said. “In said altercation, Professor Alimen also engaged with these gentlemen, and was subsequently killed.”
“Murdered.”
“I would appreciate you not continuing to interrupt me over semantics, Mister Calbert.”
“You say semantics, I say crucial distinctions.”
“Nonetheless, Mister Calbert, let me continue without further disruption. You’ll have opportunity to have your say soon enough.”
Delmin tapped Veranix’s arm. He was right, this was surely going to go badly enough, no need to further antagonize this board.
“After this altercation came to a head, both you and the delinquents were gone from campus. We are given to understand there were further attacks on your person in the Aventil neighborhood. It’s clear from looking at you that you have been through quite a bit of abuse since yesterday. Would you say that’s accurate?”
“Probably an understatement, sir,” Veranix said.
“All of this was deeply confusing for all of us here,” Dresser said. “And we were in some degree of shock over the loss of Professor Alimen. I’m certain you were as well, which is why we understand you not being immediately forthcoming after the attack.”
Veranix wasn’t sure where this was going, so he just nodded.
“We were, of course, all perplexed why you had been attacked by these men, how such an incident could possibly occur here.”
“I will take—” Veranix started, wanting to just accept whatever they were going to do without further ceremony, but Dresser held up a hand.
“Vice Provost?”
“Yes,” said the older man sitting a few seats down. “Mister Calbert, if you are not aware, I’m Vice Provost Descalin, I’m in charge of all student records and transcripts. As part of my duties, I am entrusted with materials of a sensitive nature.”
“A pleasure, sir, but—”
“Which is why I had this sealed file from Professor Alimen, with your name on it,” Descalin said. “As is sometimes the case with students accepted into the Magic Program through trust from Lord Preston’s Circle, there are sometimes extenuating circumstances of their life that must be matters of record for the University, but are kept sealed with only the recruiting professor aware of the contents. This is not uncommon in cases such as your own, where the student lacked the formal education that would normally precede acceptance into the University of Maradaine.”
“It’s considered more important for magic students to get the education they need here,” Dresser said. “Even if they otherwise would not be eligible to attend.”
“Of course, but what—”
Descalin opened the file. “So we are only now aware that your father had a previous identity, that he had open charges for his arrest, and he was involved with the criminal underworld of the city. Involvement which resulted in his death shortly after your enrollment. This is accurate?”
“It is, but—”
“It’s also clear that Professor Alimen was aware of this, which is why he took steps to protect your identity. He writes extensively here that it was his belief this criminal element would also make an attempt on your life if they learned who you were.”
Dresser held up a sheet of paper.
“Here is the last thing Gollic Alimen wrote,” Dresser said. “We found this on his desk, and Miss Nessick has already testified she observed him write this minutes before his death.”
“He what?”
“It reads, ‘Clearly I have failed to protect Mister Calbert’s identity from the enemies of his family, so now I must protect his life. Whomever holds this chair, should I falter in this, I beg that you do not hold him culpable for these sins, which are not of his making.’ ”
Veranix stood up, almost out of reflex, as his heart threatened to leap from his chest. Delmin grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his chair.
Dresser put the note down. “We have also heard from several witnesses that you acted selflessly—if perhaps foolishly—to protect your fellow students from these miscreants. But the University acknowledges its own failures in security that allowed these circumstances to occur.”
“It . . . does?” Veranix asked.
“The fact that these criminals were even able to come to campus to wage their battle against you is a great embarrassment,” Dresser said. “The Dean of Cadets will be launching a full review and investigation.”
“But on behalf of the University,” Descalin said, bowing his head, “We offer our apologies for failing to protect you and the student body, on behalf of ourselves and Professor Alimen.”
“No, it wasn’t his fault, I—”
“You, young man, should never have been in that position,” Dresser said. “As Gollic’s own words testify.”
Veranix was without words, but fortunately Delmin was there for him.
“So you’re wanting to make a formal apology on behalf of the University?” he asked. “Is that why we’re here?”
“We cannot and will not be doing that,” Descalin said. “And the entire contents of this discussion must be considered under a seal of privacy, with expulsion or termination the penalty for breaking that seal.”
“We are going to insist, Mister Calbert, for your own safety, as well as the reputation of the University, that you keep all elements of this incident a secret. The University will, in exchange, waive further tuition costs for you for the remainder of your education, and the parts of the trust that pays your tuition will now be apportioned to your living stipend. As a method of informal apology.”
That shocked Veranix out of his silence. “So you want me to keep quiet about what happened, and you’ll pay me to do that.”
“I wouldn’t put it quite so crudely,” Dresser said. “But it’s not an incorrect assessment. Mister Sarren, you are considered under the same bond, but you will be held by your honor as a prefect.”
“Fine, sir,” Delmin said.
“Yes, I agree,” Veranix said.
“Then it is decided,” Dresser said. “I expect to see you both in class tomorrow.”
Delmin grabbed Veranix by the arm and pulled him out of the chamber, shushing every attempt Veranix made to speak until they were out of the building.
“What was that?” Veranix asked. “How am I not expelled? How am I not, I don’t know, named in every newssheet in South Maradaine right now?”
“I don’t know,” Delmin said. “Professor Alimen saved you, one last time.”
“Doesn’t quite add up,” Veranix said.
“But don’t complain. You . . . you’re still here. You get to finish your education, get circled. That’s good.”
“It is,” Veranix said. But something still gnawed at his gut.
“You’re still going to stop . . . you know . . .”
“I am,” Veranix said. “But this only means I won’t be expelled. I still have the law to contend with.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
Veranix thought on this for a moment. “I think I need to talk to my own student.”
The paperwork had covered Benvin’s desk, as well as Tripper’s, while the rest of the squad dug through the reports.
But today, it seemed, there was a breath of calm in Aventil. But only a breath, and it was sure not to last.
“So, we’ve got arrests from every part of town, and bodies as well. A lot of Knights and Orphans dead, as many ironed. Same with Princes,” Pollit said after tallying things up on his slate board.
“Looks like the Dogs and the Halloran’s Boys are the big winners after this,” Wheth said. “We have any report on the Sons?”
“We’re still not sure who are Sons, besides Colin Tyson,” Saitle said. “But we don’t know if they made out well in this, or got caught in the squeeze. There’s a lot of bodies we’re presuming were Fenmere’s folks, but we don’t have them identified yet.”
“And Dentonhill house?” Benvin asked.
“I’ve called for records,” Jace said. “And called for favors where I could, but they’re not pitching to our tetch right now.”
“Figures,” Benvin said.
On top of the gang situation, there were the arrests and deaths with the higher profiles.
Arrested: Erno Don, Magadina Kend, Kat’rick-Ra, Orthon Lemt, Carson Jendle, Rory Scanlin. All of them destined for a long stay at Quarrygate. Some of them may have earned a spot on the next caravan to Fort Olesson. Poor souls.
Arrested and immediately delivered to the Archduchy Sheriffs: Pria Mandicall and Trent Endoriff. Benvin was happy to send them, happy to have them out of his hair. From what he had heard, the Archduchy was going to show little mercy, and the Circle lawyers were not arguing for either of them with much zeal.
Arrested but escaped: Xiala Quope. A mystery, that one. Near dead when found on the ward, and the doctors there insisted on saving her life. Ethics of medicine, they said, treat everyone equal. Somehow she had slipped off when the guards presumed she was sleeping. Benvin wasn’t entirely sure how she was involved in this, save she was the one who killed Enzin Hence.
Dead: Enzin Hence and Cuse Jensett. At least, it was presumed from what little remains were found that they were Cuse.
And also dead, Willem Fenmere.
And still at large: the Thorn.
There was no evidence that the Thorn had killed Fenmere. The arrow in his chest matched the others in Enzin’s quiver, and Enzin was found dead only fifty feet away. The two nurses on the fifth-floor ward were useless as witnesses, and Benvin had no interest in pushing them. Willem Fenmere was dead, and that was all that mattered.
Benvin knew there would be consequences for that death. It was plain as a clear sky. The man controlled the effitte trade in Dentonhill, holding tight reins on a dozen block bosses, and on top of that, his fingers were tied to threads in every part of the city. Those reins were loose, those threads would snap, and Benvin couldn’t even guess how things would fall out in the coming weeks. Half the lieutenants in the Aventil stationhouse, as well as all the inspectors, they all seemed in a blind panic.
Probably wondering who was going to line their pockets now.
But whatever trouble was coming, he and his would be ready.
“Am I disturbing you, Lieutenant?”
Benvin looked up from his desk to see Jace’s brother Minox, in civilian clothes. “Never, Inspector. Though this doesn’t seem to be an official visit, is it?”
“What’s up, Minox?” Jace asked.
Minox frowned. “I’m here to deliver a message, and given its nature, it would be completely improper for me to be here in any official capacity, or even in uniform.”
Benvin stood up, more than a little concerned. “What’s the message?”
