“Well, Nange apologized,” Verci said.
“For being stabbed?”
“For the reasons Asti stabbed him. It’s complicated.”
Raych sighed, a deep, exhausted sigh. “Most things are with the two of you.”
They didn’t even get into the taproom. Asti came down the stairs two at a time. “Took you long enough.”
“What’s going on?” Verci asked.
“Tarvis,” Asti said. “I found him in the alley.”
“His body?”
“No, he’s alive,” Asti said.
That was surprising. The violent little boy had launched himself into a rampage of rage and revenge that Verci was certain would end in self-destruction. “So what happened?”
“I’m not sure. He could barely talk. He was parched, half-starved. Exhausted. I got him in here and Kimber has been taking care of him.”
“You said it was an emergency.”
“He was rambling, surely out of his mind,” Asti said. “But he said something about the other kids. Stolen kids.”
“Stolen?” Raych asked. “By who?”
“He was probably delusional,” Verci said.
“Maybe,” Asti said. “But remember the Thorn asked if we had heard anything about missing children?”
Verci nodded. “You think this is connected?”
“I think I want to do right by that kid,” Asti said. Verci understood why. Asti felt an odd kinship to the boy, and guilt over the death of his brother. “And if there are other kids, and the Thorn knows something? If those kids are from our neighborhood?”
“Right,” Verci said.
“How can you do anything?” Raych asked.
“Well, we’ve got to get word to the Thorn,” Asti said. “The only way I know how to do that is through Mila.”
Verci sighed. “So, let’s pay her a visit.”
The collapsed apartment building had been a waste of time. Dayne and Jerinne, with the help of Haberneck and his cousin, searched through the parts of the basement they could get into. If there was a passage for a giant to come from, Dayne couldn’t find it, and the unstable nature of the building made him uncomfortable with pushing around too much.
“It looks like the ceiling over there collapsed recently,” Jerinne said, pointing to a section of the basement they couldn’t get to. “Maybe there’s something more there.”
“If there is, we can’t get into it,” Dayne said. “Let’s go see this Fenmere fellow.”
It was already nearly evening by the time they got out of the building, brushed themselves off, and let Elvin lead them to the house.
“What’s the plan here?” Haberneck asked.
“Not entirely sure,” Dayne said. “This man is supposedly a crime lord, but he lives in this large, well-appointed home, in the open. I need to get my own sense of him. He lives in this neighborhood, as well. Maybe his humanity can be appealed to when it involves missing children.”
“Barring that, we have swords,” Jerinne said.
“No,” Dayne pressed. “We’re not going to resort to violence here. We’ll see if we can have a civilized conversation.”
“Right,” Haberneck said. “I’m wondering if it’s better or worse for me to join you here.”
Dayne understood. “Your presence could make us seem like we’re formally representing the government here.”
Haberneck chuckled. “I was actually thinking if someone saw a new member of Parliament visiting the home of a known criminal boss, but I like how you think.”
“Perhaps we should handle it alone,” Dayne said.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Haberneck said, shaking Dayne’s hand. “And I really thank you for your time and effort.”
He went off with his cousin.
“Isn’t he a Traditionalist?” Jerinne asked once they were gone. “He doesn’t seem like one.”
“He is,” Dayne said. “But something like this goes beyond partisan opinions.”
“No, it’s just, I’m surprised to . . . from what I’ve seen, a fair amount of Dishers talk a good talk about the needs of the common man, but what they actually do . . . they stay at quite a remove. This guy, he’s really in it.”
“As are we,” Dayne said. He had to admit, he was excited to be out and about, doing something that mattered. It was far preferable to being stuck in the Parliament, with no role beyond passing official reports to the press.
He went up to the door of the house, noting that there were more than a few folks with crossbows on the roof, and other fellows with handsticks on the grounds. One of those gentlemen was at the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, holding out his hand to block them.
Dayne took that hand in a friendly shake. “Hi, I’m Dayne, this is Jerinne. We were hoping for a word with Mister Fenmere.”
“Mister Fenmere isn’t going to see you.”
“That’s surprising,” Jerinne said. “Saints, this morning we were on the palace grounds. Now some choad thinks they’re too good for us.”
“Shut that mouth, girl,” the man said.
“Make me,” Jerinne said.
“Don’t think I won’t,” the fellow said, drawing his handstick.
“Jerinne, there’s no need for a fight.”
“I agree,” Jerinne said. “How about a bet?” She pointed her finger at the man. “I’ll give you ten tries. If you land a hit, we walk away. But I say you’ll swing at air ten times, and if you do, we go in to see Fenmere.”
“It’s your teeth, girl.” The man made a show of flipping the handstick around for a moment to get it in position to punch with it like a knucklestuffer. It was a bit of silly excess, as if flamboyance could stand in for technique. He took a sharp, heavy jab at Jerinne, which she dodged easily. She took two steps back.
“That’s one.”
The guy charged at her, throwing several more punches that failed to connect.
“And six, seven, eight,” Jerinne counted. “Two more.”
“Hey, Deggie, what are you doing?” one of the other guards shouted. “Just flatten her!”
“The girl moves like a mouse!” he yelled back. He tried to feint a punch with his right before bringing in a sucker shot with his left, but Jerinne saw it coming and stepped out of its way.
“I’ll be kind and call that nine,” she said. “But really that was two punches at once.”
“Damn it!” he yelled, charging to tackle her, but she rolled out of the way.
“And that’s ten,” she said. “I win.”
“Win this!”
